Of suits and missing pieces.

Underneath all of the bad wiring, past the challenges within my brother’s unrealized potential there is still the good person at heart who dreams about becoming a “wise business man”. Smart choices. Successful. Strong. Still in there on a good day, in a sober state, wanting to look good. Wanting to have fought the good fight and actually won it.

Jobless and seemingly aimless at times, he actually has a few suits in his wardrobe. And wears them. But when you see him you know something is not quite right because they lack those extra measures that make or break the pretentious fist-bumps and water cooler conversations… they aren’t tailored. A button is unbuttoned. He may have facial stubble. The story you’d assume just isn’t there and you catch yourself looking, unclear of what you see. You see the teeter totter of ego and actuality. You see my brother without the business. You see someone I love very much who wishes that he had the missing pieces.

Today at work I was told that someone at the rear of the building would be toting around a large shopping/looting bag, because that’s what we gave the customer instead of handling matters according to our policies. I hate it when they announce something, like that makes it okay. So I followed the product, like it was a little sailboat on a big adventure, and followed it through various conditions and opportunities for theft until I couldn’t see straight. How were we all so accepting of such a huge MISS? And WHERE WERE THE PROPER MATERIALS?

I ended up abandoning my CCTV station for just under a minute in order to confirm that we had run out of the various tools put in place so that product is more easily tracked and protected. It’s typically not a big deal, for me to do other things – they don’t sew my eyes open to solely watch people. Real life happens. And we really needed to order some shit weeks ago.

When I got right back to it, I instantly spotted one of those suits.

Sleeves a little too long. Material worn, loose, ill-fitted to the grown man’s figure. Even if he had just gotten out of the office, surely he’d have more awareness of his appearance than that. And his face lacked that luster, that special attention to detail. Like there were no business cards in those pockets. No precise font. This guy was just messy. And pushing a cart without anything in it besides a DVD.

Christopher, I thought, when I first spotted him. I saw the disorder. I knew it.

I proceeded to watch more closely. He grabbed something from the shelf and added it to his cart, but had barely looked at it. Did this guy really want some random Wii Dance Party accessory? For real?

When he neared the front of the building he paused and spent a moment on his phone. Distant. Uncertain. He brought the few items over to a cashier and told her that he had forgotten his wallet and would have to run out to his car.

Run out he did, into the passenger side of a waiting sedan that promptly took off.

An associate walked over an empty box to me later on. Of course. Of course.

“He was in the suit.”

This caused strange reactions from the staff. How could I just look at a package and know who it was? Or when?

I rewound the footage with them, and the empty box beside me. You could see the cameras all follow around a large bag, obsessed with the break in policy, until everything settled. I’d moved away from my desk and the suited man with a box in his cart came on screen into the gaming aisle and fussed with something in his hands. I returned and the cameras zoomed in, seconds too late.

The motion had been compromise and concealment. He buttoned a few buttons. Dressed the darkness and came out on the other side where I knew I was watching faux shopping and a peculiar suit but didn’t understand why. Because it had been Time. Time to catch a thief. The time of day in the month for the adrenaline rush that wouldn’t happen…

In a good fight fought, but not actually won.

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