I’m Never Going To Stop Stealing From The Self-Checkout

Swiper The God

The first time I shoplifted, I almost got away with it. I attempted to slide a Reese’s peanut butter cup in my pocket.

Unbeknownst to me was a clerk who was watching me on camera the entire time. Which was kind of racist. I just happened to be stealing that day. It was completely coincidental. Before I could make it out the store, the clerk removed her klan hood and made me put the Reese’s back.

She had burning crosses for eyes. Though I was terrified, there was a soft vibration that ran through my body. Blood rushed through my veins like a ravishing current. My heart was pumping dopamine. My pupils were dilated. I felt alive.

But regardless of her stance on racial superiority, I was wrong.

I made myself a promise that day: I was never going to steal again. 
 I kept that promise up until a few years ago when I discovered the never-ending sale at the self-check-out line. While taking my groceries to my car, I noticed there was a pack of bottled waters that I had mistakenly forgotten to scan. “Honest mistake. I’ll just run in and scan the water.”, I thought to myself.

I made it about half-way in before I felt that soft vibration take over me.

Then, a tiny voice in my head that sounded a lot like Don Cheadle told me,

“What’s a pack of water to a corporation?”

Don was right. I looked from my left to my right. There was no one coming to stop me because no one knew. What I didn’t know was that this was an initiation to a life of petty but necessary crime.
 Since then I have stolen hundreds… no thousands.. no… millions of dollars worth of goods from the self-checkout line. You name it, I stole it.

Organic honey crisp apples?
 Been there. Done that. Got a t-shirt. 13, actually.

Household cleaning items?
Fucking right.

Frozen Pizzas?
Does a duck quack?

Pregnancy Tests?
Well, not yet. But only because they keep those locked up. 
 I’m not a complete monster, I have a code. 
 1. I never steal from small businesses. 
2. And I always pay for some of my items.
Other than that, I have no moral dilemma when it comes to stealing from the self-checkout. I’m a goddamn pirate. I don’t even flinch when the machine says “Remove the un-scanned item. Help is on the way.”

A few months ago, my favorite store to steal from installed cameras on each of the self-checkout stations. I guess they think this will deter people from stealing. Not me. I came to do crime. And there’s not a cashier in this city who can stop me. That’s not a declaration, that’s an invitation. 
 I mean sure, it is possible that my impulsive inability to resist the urge to steal is an undiagnosed case of kleptomania, but that’s probably just a coincidence. 
 A concerned friend once asked me if all of this thievery was worth it. I paused for a minute and thought about the exploitive practices of mass food production, capitalism, slavery, and those 10 god-awful seasons of ‘Friends’ 
 “Absolutely!”, I replied.