Water bottle thief

My unemployment marathon had ended. In sheer desperation, I had set my credentials and preferences aside and called security companies out of the phone book. You know, those companies who hire unarmed security guards to patrol properties all night so owners can get an insurance premium break? Those guys are always hiring, right?
My phone book search mission landed on a private security company that didn't force me to wade through a lengthy online application that tells me I've made an error if I don't fill in the exact month and date of my high school degree, despite the fact I have your college degree information intact. (Seriously, who considers a "high school course of study" relevant to a 40something with 20something years of work experience?)
The small time private security company guy personally answers the phone. He wants to meet me that same day. A man of action, to the point. My kinda guy.
I go in, and he sits at the back of his shop near a file cabinet bearing four different business names. He's got a pizza place, a tobacco shop, an insurance company, and, of course, a private security company. Not bad for a guy moving here only five years ago. (Red flag, anyone?)
But, he likes me, and I'm desperate. As I fill out the app in front of him, he dismisses the formalities, such as reference phone numbers, etc.
"I liked you on the phone," he says, firing up a cigarette.

"Do you want any coffee?"
I decline, admitting I'm caffeine free. "More for me," he says, chuckling. "Can you start tonight?"
Thank you, Lord!
Let me check my calendar... "Uh, tonight? Sure, um, that would be fine."
"Don't worry about a uniform. Just bring a photocopy of your drivers' license and social security card sometime in the next few days and I'll set that up. You'll be training with an older guy named Leroy. I pay every Monday, but I can only pay 8 bucks an hour."
He gives the time and location and I eagerly await my new tour of night duty. Fortunately, I can ease into overnight work at two hours a pop. I train with Leroy at a car lot tonight and tomorrow for two hours per night, then with Moses at a rundown apartment complex for the next two nights. The eight and 12 hour shifts start later.

I find Leroy, a dedicated retired contractor in a modest pickup truck. He's easy to spot in his blue uniform and badge.Plus, he's the only one in the parking lot at this hour. Leroy shows me the ins and outs of securing property and equipment on the site. We're working under the glaring lights of a large car dealership. He walks the premises, checking building and car doors. Any unlocked car door gets written down in Leroy's notepad. Each car has a special number in the windshield. If the car is locked, lock it. But first, check for keys. If any is found, turn the keys in to the night car lot supervisor. Got it.
"The boss wants me to learn the computer," white-haired Leroy admits. "But I just drop off my written report on the way home every morning."
Nothing like the older generation making the younger one do double the work.
The second night, I check the doors as Leroy watches. So far, so good. My new career seems to be budding nicely. I'll have a steady hour of work each shift, then seven more trying to stay awake watching a parking lot and trying not to freeze in the night air. Leroy has encouraged me to get a small flashlight to see the Vehicle Inspecition Numbers in case I need to. I proudly show him my new light attached to my key chain. I even have my own notebook.
It's time to get to work. I check the new cars and RVs, writing down unlocked vehicles in my notebook and finding a set or two of keys to turn in. I make my way to the service area. One of the new cars being serviced has an almost empty water bottle sitting in it. Instinctively, being a dad, I retrieve the bottle to toss in the trash and lock the door.
Louie doesn't see me do this, so I tell him I'm throwing away a bottle I found. He says, "That's considered stealing if we take anything from a vehicle."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know. I'll remember that," I say, but the door is already locked and Leroy instructs me to toss the plastic bottle in the trash.
"How did I do?" I ask, rounds complete.
"You should be fine," Leroy says. "Here's my number if you need anything. I'm going on vacation in a week, but don't hesitate to call if you have questions."
He wishes me well, and before long, I'm off the clock.
The next day, I call my new boss, who was so impressed after my first shift he assigned me to Leroy's 12 hour shift at a craft festival coming up the same time the old man will be on vacation. I want to see when I should bring in copies of my drivers' license and social security card.
"Yeah, I wanna talk to you about that," the boss man says, gruffly.
"OK," I say, a nagging sense of impending calamity rising within.
"What's up with the water bottle?"

(Is this a trick question?) "I threw away an item of trash, sorry. Didn't know."
"If you'd steal a water bottle, you'd steal a laptop," he says curtly. "I'll cut you a check, but don't bother coming back in."
And so, after four long hours of training at an undisclosed security company, my unemployment marathon continues. But so does peace of mind, knowing I'm NOT working for a man who can't distinguish theft from tidiness.