Shoplifters Scare Me

When I first started working at a store on Newbury Street, we had two amazing security guards who were not only nice guys and good at their jobs, but they made me feel safe. How safe, I wouldn’t know until the Recession hit and Corporate eliminated their contract with the security company.

And then it became incumbent on us, the salespeople, to prevent shoplifting. I thought this would be a no-brainer. After all, we were an upscale store in an upscale neighborhood. No one would come in and shoplift there.

So you could imagine my surprise to discover that shoplifters infested the store like rodents. They came in waves: as singles, as couples, as teams. We would intercept and prevent one incident, only to have another pop up again.

Maybe word got out among the underbelly that we were without security staff. Or with the recession, maybe people were just more desperate. They weren’t stealing a belt or a pair of socks here and there; it was more like, they would enter the store and with a full swoop of their arm, they would brush all of the folded shirts on the table near the door into their shopping bag and then run out. Talk about a hit and run.

Then one day, a young girl I worked with, articulated the naiveté I felt. She told me a guy came in wearing a t-shirt picturing an attitude-y Tweety Bird holding fistfuls of cash. She said, “Yet I was surprised when he stole from us.”

My own experience was with the shoplifter with the lazy left eye, severe acne and trio of stars tattooed on the back of his neck. After stopping him from stealing a ski jacket (in a Victoria’s Secret bag) one winter, he returned in the spring with a female accomplice trying on cashmere sweaters. I recognized him and we stayed on them, closely following and repeatedly asking “Anything I can help you with?” until they eventually realized we were on to them, gave up and left.

They then went up the block to another store and tried to hit them up there.