Stop! In the name of the law!

Saturday, my mom and I had plans to spend the day together in quintessential girly fashion: shopping, lunch, some more shopping, hit the wine store. Any shopping expedition that involves us includes a mandatory trip to the bookstore so after new purses (both), dresses (me), shorts and tops (her) at Dillard's we headed for Borders. We'd been browsing for a while when this guy strode briskly between my mom and the shelf at which she was looking. He wasn't running or even walking that fast, just striding importantly - you could almost hear him thinking, "Things to do! Places to go!" - that sort of energetic gait.

I thought this was very rude, even though he didn't shove or bump her or anything. Most people would walk behind the person and not in front of the shelf they were facing - so I gave him a dirty look. He saw this, then turned his head to mutter, "Excuse me," at Mom but didn't break his stride. When he was almost to the door, this lady clerk (I've known her for a while) called loudly, as she hurried toward him, "Excuse me, sir, may I look inside your bag?" He had a very large backpack - not like a camping backpack, an everyday one, but one with compartment atop compartment atop compartment. The clerk kept calling, as she increased her speed, "Sir! Sir! I'm going to have to look inside that bag! Sir, I'm talking to you! Your backpack, sir - I'll need to inspect that bag!" Dude kept walking, behaving as though he didn't hear her, but once he cleared the door, he made a run for it! She started running then, too, and was hauling ass through the parking lot after him.

I was a bit worried about her. I don't call her up and we don't hang out or anything, but I've known her for at least 10 years, maybe more; before the giant mall bookstore was built, she worked at a small Chapter 11 which I patronized frequently. We chat and have a friendly sort of retail relationship. I spied through the window and saw her running through the parking lot but couldn't glimpse Dude. The girl in question is little - barely, if at all, over 5' tall, and petite. Dude was tall and athletic in a basketball-playing sort of way (as opposed to a beefy football-playing physique). I told Mom, "I'm worried - she's so little! What if he tries to hurt her? Should I go outside? Should I go help her?"

Mom snapped, "Of course you are not to go outside!"

"But what if he hurts her? I'm bigger than she is."

"Yes, and probably meaner, too. Stay put! Or next thing I know, you'll hurt that man and he'll sue us!"

We kept looking out the window a bit longer but had lost sight of any activity, so after a while we took our purchases up to the register. As we were checking out, the clerk came back in and went over to the service desk. Since I kinda/sorta knew her, I felt sure she'd know my concern was genuine and not just nosiness, so I went to ask if she was all right.

"Oh, I'm fine!" she said, laughing a little. "I didn't tackle him, the cops did! Got my excitement in for today, though." It seems that she paused for a moment before she started chasing him through the parking lot to wave down Mall Security, who was fortuitously parked just outside the bookstore between rounds. Mall Security fired up his little pickup, gave chase and simultaneously called police. Shoplifting Dude couldn't catch a break because county police were also quite nearby (they hang out a lot at the bank across the street from the mall). The mall security truck blocked Dude in until The Law arrived to tackle him moments later.

From the bookstore, we went to Yankee Candle, made a quick purchase and were off again. We left through the bookstore since that was where we'd parked, and the police cruiser was still sitting just outside Borders with the would-be thief inside, getting an earful from the police officer. I stopped long enough to make a face at him and say loudly to Mom, "There's that RUDE man!" to which Mom replied, equally loudly, "I'm not surprised he was stealing! So ill-mannered! I'm glad I raised my children better than that." (So, y'know, it wasn't bad enough that he got caught shoplifting and was being arrested; he had to listen to snotty suburban shoppers talk badly about him.)

I'm very glad that he was caught. I mean, theft loss (for which the technical term is "shrinkage", as I learned from my sister-in-law) and having to pay for security patrols to minimize shrinkage is a big part of why I can't buy a decent paperback for less than $15. As a devout book lover, too, I was affronted by the nature of his crime and was griping about this after we told our adventure to Alan.

"What kind of low-rent a-hole steals books? If you want to read them that badly and just can't afford it, you can do that for free. There's a little place we like to call 'the library'," I fumed.

"I mean, hell-oh!" Mom agreed, toasting me with her glass of wine.

Alan was looking back and forth between us, a little taken aback at the rampant naivete but finally managed, "Um...see, he wasn't stealing them to read. He was stealing them to sell." Well, that just made me even madder. I'm glad he got nabbed, and I hope he gets beaten up once all his homies in Cell Block 6 find out that he's in for book theft. I'm planning to start a rumour that it was all Harlequin romances, too.