My
Life of Criminal Intent
Sometimes life triggers anti-social tendencies in me and
I just feel like not playing by the rules. Unfortunately,
because I'm a nice person, I never actually do anything
illegal. But I still keep getting these urges.
The first time it happened was last summer when I was at
Toronto's St-Lawrence Market downtown. I had meeting downtown
and had decided to pop by the Market to kill some time.
The Market is a series of kiosques in a big room. It looks
more like an industrial loft filled with luxury goods vendors
than an actual market. I figured I would pop by the
kitchenware kiosque to pick up a kitchen timer and a potato
peeler. The kitchenware kiosque is in the middle of the
Market and consists of a whole bunch of shelves crammed
with stuff. There's only one cash and each time I'm there
I think, "There's no real entrance or exit. I bet you could
walk out with stuff and no one would notice."
You might think that you can get kitchen timers and peelers
anywhere, but you can't. My kitchen timer was obviously
badly-made since it died a terrible, terrible death after
one fall. However, that's the only model I've been
able to find anywhere. As for the potato peeler, I used
my mom's 20-year-old peeler for two years after I moved
to Toronto, but it was eventually eaten by rust. I went
on a quixotic quest to find a new peeler and ended up buying
a billion peelers that barely peeled anything. After two
years of using crappy-ass peelers, my Conjugal Life Partner
(CLP) decided to buy a fancy Henkel peeler. It cost a fortune
and for six months it was the best damn peeler in the world.
Then my CLP decided to core an apple with it, and it bent
out of shape. I kept looking for a new peeler, but all I
could find were peelers that I had already tried. I was
frustrated.
So there I was, in the kitchenware kiosque, hoping that
I could find something of quality since I was in
St-Lawrence Market. I found a cheesy, cheap kitchen timer
that looked like a chef and then I went to look at peelers.
I found a bunch of peelers, but I didn't recognize any brands
and they ranged in price from a few bucks to almost twenty
dollars. Next to me, crouched on the floor, is a guy stocking
things. He's the only employee I've seen the whole time
I've been there, and at this point I've been there a good
fifteen minutes. I get his attention and ask him which peeler
he recommends. He looks up at me, annoyed that I'm interrupting
him. "Obviously the more expensive ones will be better,"
he says, and hands me the most expensive peeler. I explain
to him that I'm hesitant to buy another expensive peeler
and tell him my Henkel peeler story. The guy just looks
at me. I ask him if any customers have given them feedback
on this particular peeler. The guy gives me a "why have
you come to my planet" look and says, "Take that one if
you want it." I put the peeler back because I'm not into
being treated like a nuissance when I'm about to purchase
an expensive product.
I leave the peeler area of the kiosque and go to the cash
to pay for my cheesy kitchen timer, but there's no one there.
In fact, beside my friend from the peeler section (who,
incidentally, has his back to the cash), there's no one
else. I go back to my pal in the peeler section and tell
him I want to pay. He tells me to go to the cash. I tell
that I did, but no one was there. He seems disinterested
in the whole discussion. I go back to the cash (and the
exit) and start to wonder if I should just put back the
timer and go elsewhere. And then I think, "What if I just
left with the timer? These guys obviously don't care about
my business, so why should I care about theirs?" The peeler
guy still had his back to me and didn't care and no one
else was around. No one really seemed to care about me,
the customer, or the inventory. I figured, if they cared
so little about their business, they deserved to
have their inventory stolen. Just then, another guy showed
up and rang up my purchase. Fortunately, I had cash, so
I didn't pay taxes.
Since that day at St-Lawrence Market, I've thought of shoplifting
at other places, too. I thought about leaving Ikea without
paying when I was buying only one item (a $15 set of halogen
lights) and I had waited ten minutes for the lady in front
of me to choose the right card and then the cashier left
to do...something. I've thought about leaving grocery stores
with homemaker magazines or gum, just because they didn't
have navy beans for three weeks in a row. And I've considered
leaving restaurants before the bill has arrived because
the service has been so bad.
But I never do anything illegal. I'm too honest for a life
of civil disobediance crime. I know that any unpaid bill
will be passed on to some low-level employee. So for now,
I'll just be happy fantasizing about sticking it to the
man and instead will just take my business elsewhere and
complain to management.
he