That first night, Fletcher and I were the last ones up in the dining hall. He grew up in a cabin on a tiny island in New Zealand and is named for Fletcher Christian, the mutiny leader on the HMS Bounty (this story is crazy enough on its own—you can read about it here). He’s taking a gap year to walk the full length of New Zealand, traversing unknown terrain, allegedly passed a dead body while making the trek. He was so off the grid he had no way of communicating or telling where exactly he was, so the body is still there. Fletcher made it halfway across the north island before he rolled his ankle and had to quit. This ‘easy’ hike is his way of scratching that itch.
Back home, he works at a grocery store. We were swapping retail horror stories when he told me about an event that transpired a few months prior. A man walked into the grocery store, walked ten feet, had a massive heart attack, and died right on the spot. The paramedics and fire department came but were unable to revive him. This is terribly sad and tragic but not the end of the story.
After the paramedics decided their job there was done, they left, leaving the body where it was on the floor of the store. When asked why they were leaving without the body, they essentially gave a ‘that’s not our job’ answer.
When the fire department left, they were asked to take the body, and they apologized sincerely and said that the police would have to come and take it – that was their department.
At this point I should note, the store is not closed. It’s been open this entire time, with a dead man cordoned off by safety cones in the produce section.
Fletcher’s manager calls the local police, but they are tied up at the moment. “Put him on ice and we’ll come get him as soon as we can”.
So, Fletcher and his manager carry the body into the backroom refrigerated room (which has to be breaking so many health codes) where he sat for seven hours before the police came with a gurney to take him away.
And that has to be the most New Zealand story I’ve ever heard.