The Art Of The Steal

My neighborhood grocery store is part of a chain. In any of the stores, you sometimes find something out of place that someone changed their mind about — often something like a package of cookies left among the bread.

The one nearest me has this to insane levels: cooked deli items in with the bread, ice cream with the flour, and on my most recent visit, a package of batteries in the fridge unit with single sodas. I keep hoping to catch one of these nitwits doing this, and I came close with the fridge.

Just as I was noticing the batteries, a twenty-something woman walked past me and set a big convenience store soda cup on top. I had seen her crossing back and forth near the checkout without adding anything to the collection of things in her other arm.

As I watched her retreat in the other direction, I contemplated saying something, but I wasn’t sure what. Then, I saw her reverse and come back my way again. As she was just about to pass, I said:

Me: “Excuse me! I think you forgot your drink.”

She gave me a blank look, grabbed the drink without a word, and then kept walking. Then, she suddenly turned into one of the cashier aisles that was, momentarily, without staff. She was there boldly shoplifting. Apparently, she had it down to an art.

Thanks, “lady,” for being one of the reasons we pay more for our things.