breakfast: ECA home brew stack with open faced tuna and granola bar
This is somewhere around the second week of taking an ECA stack since damn near 2003. Anyone who knows me well is aware of my stimulant fondness; I abhor sedatives as I seem to be naturally daywalking most of the time. Basic things like mornings and responsibilities had gotten to be fairly burdensome lately so I took matters into my own hands and researched some loopholes for getting the sort of boost that the boys at work think they’re getting when they buy little vials and tall cans of sugar water: Energy.
Side effects: appetite is suppressed, so you’ll lose your love for gorging on food. Also, your bronchial tubes are opened more so breathing will be easier. I hope these sorts of things are okay with you. Finally: act like a dumb shit and take way too much and you could kill yourself, just like with everything else under the sun.
So far I’ve noticed a change in the hours I keep: I can stay up later and get up earlier. Time no longer drags. My eyes are in the open position. People tell me I have acquired a ‘glow’. And apparently, I can spot a shoplifter from across the building.
“We need to make a shit-ton of money today, guys. If any of you aren’t familiar with my units of measurement, a shit-ton is several shit loads.” — one of my favorite managers at work
We had a chick come in wearing a boobie dress and tall heeled shoes. She was pretty young and had one of those supple faces with doe eyes and fat lips. My orientation confuses a lot of people as I am always looking at humans objectively and noting the ones I like. I watched her come in and I thought: I wish I could be walking into a place right now, as free as she looks, and balance myself in that sort of complicated footware, and carry my fancy shopping bag around like tra la lalalalalala….wait a minute….
Girly didn’t seem stable on top of those bright orange heels and it made me wonder why it was so important to her then, to look like that. She had just told someone nearby that she didn’t know what sort of gift she was going to buy (pretty girls, always on their way to parties, you know) but she seemed like she knew where she wanted to go after looking at a few movies: straight back into the empty gaming department.
Let’s not hate her just yet.
I showed one of our cashiers via CCTV, how Girly seemed to be shopping and putting specific games all in one spot on the rear wall.
“That’s called staging. It could be nothing, but thieves do it so they can get everything ready to take. They decide what they’re going to steal, position it and conduct research around them until they think they have that safe second to boost it.”
She pretended to shop a little while conveniently faced in other directions. She was trying to see if anyone was around. Trying to see if anyone noticed her. She tugged a little at the fabric keeping her breasts from popping out. She was Just A Girl In the World and certainly any boy who wandered over into gaming would assume the same?
Maybe they’d be thrown off by her shape. Or look the other way entirely because of it.
Then the fashionable bag was suddenly open, her fingers were around the merchandise and it disappeared behind an aisle. The cashier watching with me was stunned and a little excited.
“Alright. Someone just put a shit-ton of games into her bag. [Manager’s Name] I need you to get over here NOW.”
“On my way.”
“Put your hands out like me and smile huge like I am and act like we’re joking around and not paying attention. She’s going to start watching us now to see if we’re on to her,” I said, extending my arms and turning my head from the public view monitor at the front doors. The cashier was confused, unsure, but smiling regardless.
How long had she been getting away with this? Was she waiting for us to contact her and make it obvious that we knew so she could dump and bail? I am so tired of that routine.
The suspect kept shopping away, ducking into the XBOX corner and stuffing another few hundred dollars into her bag.
“Do you want us to, uh-“
“NO. Leave her alone.” And on camera you could see salespeople casually walking by her, giving the impression of being completely fucking oblivious. It delighted me to no end. Meanwhile the manager had the police on the phone, en route.
She had to pass me at the front doors, so I grabbed a circular and held it out like I didn’t know how to do my job. We were both pretending not to see each other as she put her cell phone to her ear and passed the last point of purchase.
I looked up at the very last second as if I’d forgotten about the pretty girl in bright orange heels. “Oh! Have a good day [walking into your fate]!”
She, along with her accomplice waiting behind the wheel, ended up in the back seat of a police car. Over $500. Felony.
“Hey! You used my word, didn’t you?! HIGH FIVE!” I reached up and slapped the manager’s hand.
Tra, la laaaaaaaaaa!