Picture this: Instead of dutifully delivering packages to longing recipients, a Memphis FedEx employee, Antwone Tate, decided to play treasure hunter in the great warehouse of mail. But unlike the noble pursuits of explorers past, Tate’s ventures involved more cloak and dagger, wrapped in brown tape, than gold and glory.
Our tale begins innocently enough – or as innocent as a mail-room misadventure can get. Within the labyrinthine aisles of FedEx’s Memphis hub, loss prevention officers noticed a troubling trend. Packages began to vanish into thin air, marked “out for delivery” but never quite reaching their eager destinations. Holding a magnifying glass to the dates of disappearing cargo, they were eventually led to the piece de theft: an $8,500 diamond ring and nearly $14,000 worth of gold bars. Where did these glinting beauties end up? A pawn shop, of course, with the indelible trail of paperwork signed bright as a Nugget-Dieu bon mot, penned by none other than Tate himself.
A master of subtlety, this cunning rogue reportedly thought it clever enough to waltz in with his own driver’s license. Perhaps he thought the pawn receipt itself was exempt from honesty. Alas, the plan had more holes than Swiss cheese, and Tate’s name soon tripped alarms with all the grace of a clumsy cat burglar.
And as the antique glitter of jewels wasn’t quite enough, Tate’s tastes also extended to vintage baseball cards. One particular package conscripted into the void of his escapades contained nostalgic gems for any collector worth their mint-condition Mantle. Among the iconic cardboard faces missing was a 1915 Cracker Jack Chief Bender and a sought-after 1933 Goudey Sport Kings Ty Cobb, priced together at about $6,800.
Armed with this sporting intelligence, officers did the digital equivalent of fingerprint dusting, tracing sales posts to eBay under the username antta_57. In a plot twist as predictable as the ending of a Scooby-Doo episode, the account led them back to Tate. Despite its rather inelegant moniker—perhaps “iamguilty_100” would have been more fitting—the seller profile served as candy sweet for law enforcement’s case.
With all proverbial fingerprints marked and treasures recovered, authorities charged Tate with theft of property, sending his amateur-hour crime spree to the penalty box. The legal mark left Tate not only looking for new treasure troves but also fresh employment. In the understated lingo of corporate decorum, FedEx informed the world that their rogue employee was “no longer with the company.” When translated, this might as well have been a “finders keepers” policy gone wrong anthem: Take our word, filching special deliveries isn’t part of any job description.
This cautionary tale rings a bell for anyone eyeing a sudden career change into the world of illicit alley commerce. So, when you realize that unicorn soap dispenser you ordered hasn’t arrived, and your tracking app is stuck in package purgatory, word to the wise: maybe search listings under “random eBay seller.” Just be wary of anything offered by anttas_59.
As post-script, if you’re left wondering what drove a FedEx employee to devolve into a bandit of deliverables, consider the timeless allure that treasure—whether in diamonds, coin, or cards—holds on humankind. Even today, where our mysteries are less hidden cities and more mail-route capers, the pull of finding something exceptional remains ever-present. Maybe Tate misheard and thought his role included “taking delivery job outside boxes.” Next time, perhaps a detour to Nervous Novice courses in “How Not to Get Caught” might have been a wiser investment.
