As I entered the store, list in hand, an older man walked towards the door carrying a small but fully-loaded red plastic shopping basket. It was the kind you use when a cart is too big but your arms are too small. I probably wouldn't have noticed him at all but as he headed towards the door, the clear plastic lid of a generous deli tray of chicken tenders popped off and he stooped to retrieve and put it back on.
Also within the basket, I could see a shrimp cocktail ring and a few cans of things. He should have been heading for the "15-items-or-fewer" line, but he wasn't. He was heading for the door.
All this happened so quickly, but in that slightly slo-mo fashion, where I knew full well what was going on but my mind almost couldn't fathom that he would do it.
Though it is possible that he simply "forgot" to pay, like that time my father walked out of a Southern California store following my mom and a cart full of groceries she had just paid for, only to realize that he was holding a bottle of Tums - that he hadn't paid for. (Yes, he went back to the store.)
I thought about the luxury I have of just popping into a shop, whipping out a plastic card and buying just about anything I want. I thought about all those who came to the store, counting their change to make sure they'd have enough. I thought about the excruciating experience of getting your total and realizing you didn't have that much and had to put something back. Then, there was this guy.
No one at the store saw him but me. No one at the store knew his own particular situation. We couldn't know whether the impulse (or well-planned maneuver) that resulted in him shoplifting food that day was motivated by greed or by need...
I walked over to customer service, waited to get the attention of the middle-aged clerk behind the counter, and said "someone just walked out of the store with a basket of food they didn't pay for." The clerk looked at me and smiled then went about her business as if I'd just told her that someone left their shopping cart in the parking lot.
Maybe this was a common occurrence. Maybe it simply wasn't worth chasing the man down for chicken tenders, shrimp and some cans. Maybe it wasn't my business anyway.
But that day made me sensitive to the hidden needs (and wants) of others who just can't pull out a card or cash and buy what they need (or want). Now, every time I walk into that store, I will remember that man, and what needs (or wants) drove him to take things that weren't his but that he felt he needed to take.
