Thieves Are Full Of Haterade

I’m working the register at the grocery store. Two guys come up with some assorted snacks; they’re a little scruffy-looking but otherwise unremarkable. I start scanning their stuff, exchanging platitudes with one of them. The other one, however, walks off toward the store entrance.

At the entrance, there’s a big palette of Gatorade. I’m watching the guy out of the corner of the eye just in case. He picks up a bottle and walks back toward the register. I assume he’s going to give it to me to scan, but instead of that, he just stands at the end of the till and makes a very forced attempt at looking “inconspicuous.” He’s glancing around, tapping the bottle on the till, and scratching his head. It is painfully obvious that he’s trying to steal the Gatorade.

Me: “Did you want to buy that?”

He looks at me, surprised.

Customer: “Uh, what?”

Me: “The Gatorade. Did you want to buy that?”

He stutters a bit, eyes darting around.

Customer: “Uh… no?”

Me: “If you don’t want it, could you give it to me?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “If you don’t want to buy it, I need to put it in my return box. Please hand it over.”

He grumbles and passes it over to me, and I deposit it in the return box under the till.

Customer: “I wasn’t gonna steal it.”

Me: “Didn’t say you were.”

He pouted while his friend paid for their shopping and they left. I watched him carefully on their way out to make sure he didn’t grab anything from the Gatorade display, though I have a feeling even if he did, he probably would’ve started juggling or something with it. I don’t think that guy knew the definition of the word “inconspicuous.”