SHOPLIFTING STORIES #2
I don't remember shoplifting anything again until I was 17. I told my story of shoplifting video games to all sorts of people for years, but it was just a story designed to prove to people that I was, in fact, capable of breaking a law or two. I was still convinced that the consequences of stealing outweighed the benefits. That changed, however, one day in the drug store.
As a teen in a small town, there's not a lot of cool spaces to hang out. My friends and I gravitated towards a drug store near the center of town and a little path behind it that overlooked a river. After school we would take the bus or drive into town, walk to the drug store, eat junk food, and just talk about stupid teenager shit for hours.
We would walk around the drug store, buying soda, packs of miniature candy bars, jerky, leftover discounted holiday candy, potato chips, and snack cakes. Afterwards we would cram as much as we could into our faces as fast as possible. In those days, I ate so much shit, most times I was surprised I didn't weigh even more than I already did. I knew that there were people out there who were bigger, but I wasn't quite convinced it was possible. Were they drinking more than two liters of soda a day? My fat felt like an insulator to the rest of the world, something to keep me hidden and protected.
One day, as we were walking out of the drug store with our bags of treasures, my friend Simon let out a puzzled noise. I asked him what it was and he tore off what we thought was an alarm sticker stuck to my back. He had put it on me as a joke before I walked out the store, but nothing happened. I let this revelation sink in and the next day decided to test it out myself.
We did our usual routine of loading up on snacks at the drug store after school, only this time after we walked out with our shopping bags, I gestured for all my friends to go back inside again. Not quite sure why, we milled around aimlessly. When no one was looking, I took a can of chocolate covered cashews and dropped it into my bag. My heart raced for a moment when we walked out the door, but then that was it. I was a successful thief!
For the next six months, I would repeat the exact same ritual. Walk into the store with a group of friends. Buy a few items and get shopping bags. Hang out in front of the store for five minutes. Walk back into the store and stuff other items into the shopping bag. Walk out of the store and eat said items. I was a goddamn criminal mastermind.
I told all sorts of people at school about my thievery. Hoping to cling on to anything remotely subversive or dangerous, I thought shoplifting might be the best I could do. I would bring in fancy drugstore snacks and give them out to anyone I ran into at lunch.
"Hey how do you like those macadamia nuts...I STOLE THEM! THAT'S RIGHT I STOLE THEM! I'M A PERSON THAT STEALS THINGS FROM STORES, I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE LAW AT ALL."
Sadly, there's only so many times you can steal an extra blister pack of jerkey before it starts to feel a little empty. I never really tried to migrate my newfound skills to other stores or lust after bigger scores. I never quite got over how awful I felt whenever I had to walk out the door with a bag full of pilfered treats. The adrenalin rush didn't feel as exciting or addicting as it felt stressful and something I didn't want to experience.
