Not that I would do it myself. But if someone was opportunistic and a multi-million-dollar supermarket didn’t have effective loss prevention measures, I shrug my shoulders.
Lately, though, it doesn’t feel petty. There’s barely a day when I pop into the shops for bread and milk without seeing someone leave with unpaid-for items.
Recently, my daughter and I were knocked aside by someone running with three loaded bags of groceries they hadn’t paid for.
Yesterday, I saw it again. As the person walked past me, I acted: “Are you planning to pay for what’s in your bag?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied.
I also reported it to the front desk. The young man explained it was the second time that day the same person had come in, filling up a backpack. He was a regular.
The person did several more laps of the aisles before eventually paying for a single chocolate bar.
Stupidity took over. I asked him a second time to pay for the rest. This time, he took offence, insisted his bag was empty, even opened it to prove his point. He demanded an apology.
I gave him one, conditionally. That’s when he called me a name that, politely translated, implied I was an unintelligent, slovenly woman.
My daughter was beside me, and we were on our way out. But there was no way I was letting it end like that.
I marched back into the store and told him his manners were appalling. While I had apologised, I still believed his intent had not been good.
I told him there was no excuse for swearing and he should have more self-respect than to speak to a woman that way.
Then our eyes met and something shifted. For a brief moment, we connected as people. “I’m embarrassed,” he admitted.
I felt for him. Even now, I can’t stop worrying about him – wondering about his story, what led him here, what choices he had or didn’t have.
This isn’t about shoplifting. It’s about something bigger. It’s about people slipping through the cracks.
With an election coming, I hope our politicians will step up, not to punish but to truly help those most vulnerable in our community.
