Shopping centres and supermarkets seem to attract crooks.
I’ve worked in retail so I’ve seen my fair share of it, from drive offs at the pump to the five finger discounts on sweets and drinks.
So when this guy in the bread aisle seemed to take a serious interest in the contents of my shopping trolley I knew just how to handle it.
“Umm….,” I grinned uncertainly when he walked up and started staring into my trolley, “…ummm…can I help you with anything?”
I hoped maybe he’d spotted a tin of something and wanted to know whereabouts in the supermarket it was hidden, but this theory shriveled up like a Nordic streaker’s willy when this bloke actually put his hand into my trolley and moved a couple of things. Well, I wasn’t having any of that.
“Ummm?” I said in falsetto, continuing to smile. “What are you after, buddy?”
He moved a few things and pulled out some sort of cheese. He was taking stuff out of my trolley! It occurred to me that while brazen, he wasn’t the smartest crook in the penhouse – no Fagin or Kayser Söze. I mean, it’s no good flogging stuff this side of the counter because it wasn’t paid for.
“I’m looking for my groceries,” he said pleasantly. Pleasantly! That’s my angle.
I glanced down into mix of milk and biscuits and bacon and vegetables and condoms.
Condoms?
This may not come as a complete surprise to anyone with any sort of knowledge of our family size, but we haven’t used condoms in….ever. And speaking of which, where were the nappies and baby wipes?
Then it hit me. Apart from five bottles of milk and some sour cream, this wasn’t my trolley.
“I think,” he said, “you made the switch back in the freezer section.”
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”
