Avast! Patrolling for pandemic porch pirates

Craig Silliphant recently had some food stolen from his front step. Read a news story about it here. 

Silliphant has since written about his experience. Read that below.

When Mr. Rogers was a boy, his mother told him that in times of trouble, he should look for the people rushing toward danger. These people are the helpers. They make the world a better place. 

A lot of good folks have stepped up during the COVID-19 crisis, from health care workers to grocery store staff.

However, there's another group rushing toward danger and they aren't helpers. They are opportunists. 

These are the snake oil doctors selling powdered COVID cures, or shock doctrine political leaders slipping their dirty agendas past the goalie while we're otherwise occupied. 

I encountered the neighbourhood version of the opportunist this week. I was paid a visit by the dreaded porch pirate. 

"Ahoy!  I see thars a package fer ye! I think I'll plunder it for meself!"

Porch pirates are those criminals who stalk your neighbourhood waiting for someone to drop a package on your stoop so they can steal it. I bring you a warning like a skull and crossbones flag: be vigilant lest they pirate from your porch too.

Hijacked hummus

I've been trying to support as many local businesses as I can while maintaining social distancing.  When I had a hankering for some homemade hummus, I put in a delivery order to Hanes Hummus, made locally by my friend Yohannes Petros. Like many local businesses affected by COVID-19, he's working hard to stay afloat while serving his customers. 

I won't bore you with the story of how a miscommunication meant I didn't grab the hummus off the doorstep right away (the irony of my well-known stance on answering the door isn't lost on me). But when I did go to fetch it a little while later, it was long gone, liberated from my clutches by that nasty mailbox marauder.  

I was angry. And a little bit hungry too. Hangry.

I'm not naive. I know the front step five-finger discount is a thing, but it's never happened to me before and I do order things frequently. I can understand that a big, shiny box full of electronics or clothing or whatever would be tempting booty for the dastardly buccaneer of boxes. But this wasn't exactly a new TV or a priceless Faberge Egg. It was a few containers of hummus in a Giant Tiger bag.

What this grand theft hummus tells me is that the criminals have stepped up their game because of all the contactless deliveries happening during this crisis. This is purely anecdotal, but hey, I never claimed to be some kind of crime scientist, just a loudmouth deprived of his hummus. 

The trap is set

I was suddenly paranoid. I wanted to set up a sting operation. I got an empty box for bait. I made a thermos of coffee, got the kids' binocular and leered out the curtains like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window.

An older woman shuffled by a little too slowly for my liking and I yelled, "Hey lady, you sniffing out my hummus? Keep moving!"  

That's when my wife interceded. She didn't want me "yelling out the window at people." I tried to tell her you have to yell at a few people to catch a porch pirate. This didn't change her mind. 

I thought about all those YouTube porch pirate revenge videos. What if I put live cobras in the box? Or what if I do like the banks and get dye bombs that explode upon opening? 

Heck, I have a baby over here that produces dirty diapers at an alarming rate. Imagine when they rip that bag open expecting something awesome and instead get a faceful of exploding poopy diaper! 

Not surprisingly, my wife wasn't really supportive of these ideas either. She likes to criticize rather than contribute. To paraphrase Darth Vader, I find her lack of faith disturbing. She just doesn't care about hummus.  

Lesson learned

I'm sure that right now there's a hummus raider laughing at me and chowing down. Thankfully, Yohannes was understanding and brought me some more. This time I waited for him at the window like an excited puppy. 

I've learned a lesson; the best way to combat porch pirates and opportunists in these tough times is for us to all work together. To pay attention and not give them an opening. 

In fact, this applies universally right now, not just in package delivery. Rather than being the opportunists, we need to be the helpers. Even if we're forced to do it at a distance. 

Sure, that might mean keeping an eye on weird strangers on your neighbour's porch. But it also means checking on that elderly widow that lives down the street, shovelling your neighbour's walk, donating to The Food Bank, calling a friend to be the voice they needed to hear that day or supporting local business.

And of course, staying home as much as possible. 

Netflix and hummus, baby.

This column is part of CBC's Opinion section. For more information about this section, please read this editor's blog and our FAQ.

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