We meet Mauro T. at a conference of the private security sector. He is in his forties, about 6 feet tall, slightly balding, he looks fit but he is certainly not a gymnast. The connection that triggers mutual sympathy is a fairly trivial comment in Roman dialect that escapes me. Comment immediately decoded by Mauro who thus betrays a long period of frequentation of the capital. Today he is a manager of a large security company, but before that he was on the road for a long time, carrying out practically every operational task possible, from area surveillance to security guards.
After the last speech of the conference, a very boring dissertation on the European jurisprudence of the sector, we move to the hotel bar and over a couple of beers he agrees to give this interview. He only sets two conditions: 1) his real name must not be disclosed, given that many of the assignments he has carried out were performed under contracts that included at least a dozen pages of confidentiality clauses; 2) the bar bill will be at my expense. As it is in the style of the character, let's get straight to the point.
AdL: How did you start doing this job?
Mauro: After finishing my stint in the Navy I was an unemployed first-class sub-chief. There were few things I knew how to do that someone could have paid me for. The security guard was the most promising prospect.
AdL: When you were in the Navy, what positions were you in?
Mauro: I was in the San Marco battalion, I was stationed in Brindisi and for a period I was in Kosovo with operational assignments.
AdL: So as a former elite soldier it was no problem to find a job in the security sector.
Mauro: Well, I was back in Catania, to my parents. I sent out about ten resumes before the summer, then I left for a couple of months. I took a tour of France, Spain and Portugal. When I returned there were three responses from interested companies and after a month of interviews I was working in Rome. Just enough time to take the gun license and swear in the Prefecture.
AdL: Tell us some experiences of that period in Rome.
Mauro: We worked a lot, even 12 hours a day. It was a good team, very practical people. I was earning well, but life in Rome cost a lot and at the end of the month I had almost nothing left in my pocket. In addition, it is not that I led a monastic life, let's say. I started working in front of the supermarkets in the hottest neighborhoods, then I was put in front of the banks ... a good time ... and then to do the night surveillance at the polyclinic. The only slightly bad episode happened there.
AdL: Tells…
Mauro: One night while we were patrolling with a colleague we caught two junkies who had made a refuge in a semi-abandoned basement. We had to get them out, but they didn't really agree, a somewhat heated discussion arose and suddenly one of them turns around and throws a syringe at me. Sticking straight into the bulletproof vest, low, three fingers from the crotch. I had a moment of black out ... I automatically extracted the Beretta, scarrellato and fired a shot ...
AdL: What happened then?
Mauro: Nothing, I was lucky, the bullet entered the wall 5 centimeters higher than where that c ...
AdL: Have you had to shoot other times in your career?
Mauro: Just one more time, during an attempted robbery in a jewelry store, but it was two Romanian wretches half drunk. While running away, one tripped on the sidewalk and even broke his arm. I had to call him an ambulance ...
AdL: Have you ever felt in danger during your working days?
Mauro: Yes, sure, many times. You know, on average every year there is a security guard killed on the job. Almost all of them are in southern Italy, especially in the Neapolitan area. Every now and then you think about it that this year could be your turn, then you make yourself a coffee and you don't think about it anymore.
AdL: What are you doing today?
Mauro: I manage the operations center of a Sicilian supervisory institution. I came back home. Now I earn like in Rome, but here life costs half. Now I have a family, I can no longer afford to remain uncovered in the last week of the month.
Mauro takes out his cell phone and shows me the photos of his son and wife. The empty beer mugs have piled up on the table, it's 10pm and it's time to go back to the hotel. We say goodbye with a handshake, sure that sooner or later we will catch ourselves around somewhere, this world is not as big as it is believed.
