Behind the Register

I had been watching the kid for several minutes on the security screen behind the counter.  It had caught my attention when they appeared to be checking to see if I saw them.  

What people don’t realize is that if I look like I’m busy behind my counter, paying no attention whatsoever, that’s when I am watching them on my screens and paying closest attention. 

This one wandered around, surreptitiously glancing at me behind my counter until they thought they were unobserved.  After that, they almost scurried to the back of aisle two while trying not to be seen by the big boxy cameras installed in the corners of my store.  Those are decoys, by the way, and it’s interesting how many times they have alerted me to potential theft.  If someone looks up to find the cameras and then attempts to stay out of their path there’s got to be a reason. Right? 

So, when the kid picked up that package of off brand chocolate cream filled sandwich cookies and slipped them under their coat, I was aware. 

The kid approached the door and started to walk out and just as they touched the door, I clicked the automatic door lock and stepped out from behind the counter saying, “Where do you think you are going with that?” 

I expected them to try to run and hit the door only to realize too late that it was locked.  This usually gave me a moment to assess their attitude.  This kid surprised me. 

            They just turned toward me, chin slightly up, and said, “With what?” 

            I realized by then that I wasn’t talking to the thrill seeking shoplifter who just wanted to see if they could get away with something or the casual thief who expects the world to let them off scot free because it always has before. But I couldn’t just let them go either.  This kid looked rough and worn down but they tried to meet my eye.  So, I said, “That package of cookies you picked up back there in aisle two.” 

            “I didn’t.”  This was mumbled and the kid was looking down by this time, shoulders slumped and all defiance gone.   

            “I saw you,” I said. “Now pay or hand them over and don’t ever come back in here again.” 

            The accused kid mumbles something as the package of cookies emerges from the left pocket of the winter coat.  

            “What did you say?  Speak up!” I am not shouting but have put a little ‘mom’ authority in my voice. 

            The kid barely looked up but did speak up more.  “I’m sorry.  I’m hungry.” 

            “Give me the cookies.” I demand with my hand out to receive the contraband.   

            “I’m sorry,” the kid looks totally ashamed and morose as they hand me the package of cookies.   

            Sometimes you get kids like this one.  They’re too young to be out on their own but out on their own they are.  They are decent kids but life has let them down and the people who should have cared for them, haven’t. 

“If you’re hungry, you don’t just come in here and start taking things that don’t belong to you.” I say to the top of the kid’s head.  “Now look up here at me when I talk to you.  That shows respect for the person talking to you.” 

            I pick up a bag as I talk.  “Cookies are empty calories.  Do you know what that means?” 

            The kid mumbles, “No. 

            “Think of it this way, if you are hungry your body needs real calories.”   

Changing direction, I start asking questions. “Do you have family in this vicinity?” 

            “No.” 

            “How old are you?” 

            “Eighteen.” 

            “Yeah, like I’m 21!” I snark.  “You might be 15 but that’s likely stretching it a year. Maybe two.” 

            A quiet gasp is followed by silence from the young culprit. 

            I then continue my lecture.  “Ok, real calories, real food is fruit, vegetables, and protein.”  I pick up an apple, an orange, and a banana. “These are sweet, so save them to eat at the end of a meal.  Do you have a stove where you are staying?” 

            “No.” 

            “Ok, then, carrots.  They can be eaten raw and avocados…do you have a knife?” 

            “Yes.  But I don’t like to show it.” 

            “May I see it?  Please.” 

            “Ok.”  Youngster digs into a pocket and pulls out an old two-blade pocket knife with one blade that is broken. It is quickly closed and slipped back into the pocket but not before the I had noticed it was filthy.  

            “That’ll do but you need to go in the restroom over there before you leave and wash the knife, your hands, the apple and the carrots.”   

            I pause, look the youngster over, and continue, “And while you’re at it wash as much of you as is practical.  Here’s a towel.  Why don’t you go do that now?” 

            “You won’t call the cops while I’m in there, will you?” 

            “You don’t want to be giving me any ideas, now.” 

            The youngster smiles a little uncertainly but takes the key to the restroom, the towel, the apple, and the carrots and turns away, then turns back saying, “Thanks.  Thanks a lot.  But why are you doing this?” 

            “I’ve been hungry.  Now, go on.  Take as long as you need.  Lock the door.” 

           On the way back to the register, I pick up a loaf of multigrain bread, bologna, American cheese slices, and a small jar of mayonnaise, muttering to myself, “Empty calories but filling and okay for now.” 

            Behind the counter, I ring up the items, pause, pick out an insulated blanket and after adding it to the total, I apply my employee discount, pull out my wallet and put cash in the drawer and the receipt in my wallet and put wallet away.  Then I put the bag behind the counter. 

            Another customer comes in and begins to look around. 

            “Anything I can help you find?” 

            “Wife sent me after diapers for the baby.” 

            “Back of the store next to the beer cooler.” 

            Customer laughs, “Thanks. Might need that too.”  Wanders off toward the back of the store. 

            After a few minutes, the customer comes to the counter, purchases a 12-pack of beer and a 24-count pack of infant size diapers with a credit card and leaves after we exchange a couple of pleasantries. 

            Shortly, the youngster emerges from the restroom, cleaner and smiling slightly. 

            “Are you sleeping rough?” 

            The smile disappears.  “Maybe.” 

            “I put in a blanket.  That towel goes with you.”  Then I reach behind the counter and hand the sack to the youngster. 

            “Thanks!” They smile when they see the additional items in the sack. 

            I then remembered and stepped away, returning with a small bar of soap and a box of resealable plastic bags and add them.  “Use those and you’ll be less likely to get sick.  Bags are to keep soap separate and to keep left over food clean.” 

            “Come back and see me in a few days.  Let me know how you’re doing.  Maybe I can find something for you to do so you can buy some things for yourself next time.” 

            “Like a package of cookies, maybe?” the youngster grins. 

            “Don’t get cheeky now” I say with a smile as the youngster leaves.