I don’t do it on purpose. Really. I don’t.
When I go grocery shopping, I am in the habit of finding something to snack on while I trudge through the aisles of the store. It’s usually a bag of delicious peanut M&Ms or a bottle of juice or tea. Often, the bag or bottle or box makes its way into my pocket so that I can carry an armful of oranges or cereal or assorted deodorant products back to the cart. Herein lies the problem. I always tell myself to take the snack back out of my pocket and put it into the cart when I get there, but invariably, I forget. And this is the truth. I really do forget that it’s in there. It’s like I lose all the feeling in the nerve endings of my leg. I can have a huge glass bottle in my pocket and not even realize it. You could stab me in the leg with a broken Tabasco bottle and I’d just start thinking about how delicious my sandwiches would be with a tough of tarragon or how if peanuts are good enough for elephants, goshdarnit, they’re good enough for me. But anyway, the item never makes it into the cart. And if it’s not in the cart when I get to the checkout, it doesn’t make it on the conveyor belt. And if it doesn’t make it on to the conveyor belt, it isn’t rung up with everything else and I don’t pay for it. Then I gather up all the bags, walk out to the car, toss them in the trunk, turn the ignition, and remember that I’m a no-good, dirty, insufferable thief. And I drive away.
When I go grocery shopping, I am in the habit of finding something to snack on while I trudge through the aisles of the store. It’s usually a bag of delicious peanut M&Ms or a bottle of juice or tea. Often, the bag or bottle or box makes its way into my pocket so that I can carry an armful of oranges or cereal or assorted deodorant products back to the cart. Herein lies the problem. I always tell myself to take the snack back out of my pocket and put it into the cart when I get there, but invariably, I forget. And this is the truth. I really do forget that it’s in there. It’s like I lose all the feeling in the nerve endings of my leg. I can have a huge glass bottle in my pocket and not even realize it. You could stab me in the leg with a broken Tabasco bottle and I’d just start thinking about how delicious my sandwiches would be with a tough of tarragon or how if peanuts are good enough for elephants, goshdarnit, they’re good enough for me. But anyway, the item never makes it into the cart. And if it’s not in the cart when I get to the checkout, it doesn’t make it on the conveyor belt. And if it doesn’t make it on to the conveyor belt, it isn’t rung up with everything else and I don’t pay for it. Then I gather up all the bags, walk out to the car, toss them in the trunk, turn the ignition, and remember that I’m a no-good, dirty, insufferable thief. And I drive away.
Yes, yes, just drive away...
Great post.
and then i feel guilty all day because my husband is a thief and i didn't stop him from stealing
erik, it was lipstick.. you should feel bad.
It is not too far to go back into the store and show the cashier the item and pay for it. In fact, that is the right thing to do...
Remember, these bad habits are progressive. You will soon find yourself booking trips to sites of anticipated natural disasters so that you can participate in the post-disaster looting.
I had a friend in college with the same problem. Only he had special grocery shopping pants that were two sizes too big so that he would have sufficient room for his snacks, which usually turned out to be 10 or 20 pounds of tenderloin, t-bones, or porterhouse or some other inexpensive beef-based "snack". He then enlisted friends to shop with him. Two or three guys could absent-mindedly wipe out the entire meat counter. He now shops in a pick-up truck at the loading dock of grocery stores. That's what a bad memory will do to you.
Hahaha... I love it. "Two or three guys could absent-mindedly wipe out the entire meat counter." Ha.