Shoplifter: Backpacker

One day, as is usual, I start working and I find a shoplifter hard at work filling a bag with our clothes. Of course, no one is around and no one even sees them. Seriously, they act a certain way, and sadly, they look a certain way, it is kind of lame. These women before me are dressed like sloppy sluts, but weighing about a hundred pounds more–their string camisole is two sizes too small, allowing you to see the bra-strap underneath, with their stomach and sides showing; they wear tight, tight denim shorts and flip-flops (slippers) and even walk kind of like a duck and kind of like an orangutan. They seriously look like they’ve had too much to eat and too much to drink for several years in a row. To me,they stand out as much as a gothic trying to hide in the snow. Either way, while the shoplifter has her large, bulky, yet extra-small tank-topped body turned away from me, I sneak behind her. Yes, I can be a ninja, too! Beware as I glide silently wearing my Italian heeled-boots! Whoosh! I duck behind the whale-sized ninja.

I find her bag in a corner, which is actually one of our backpacks. She has almost completely filled it with pants and shirts. She’s folded them quite nicely, and has a pile of hangars nearby. She’s quite a packer, she must travel a lot, eh? Obviously, she’s been filling the bag for a while, and yet again, I sigh in disappointment with my coworkers–she must have been doing this for several minutes already. Can they at least look around? Look up from the cash-registers, come out, and walk around a little; don’t hide behind the wall of protection! Anyhow, I grab the bag and hide behind a pillar as she walks back to her hot spot. I glide away in a cloud of smoke. Poof, I am gone.

I leave the backpack at the counter, quickly walking back to her, to see how much the thief enjoys being stolen from. I ask how she’s doing. She mumbles something, and starts to leave. I tell her, “I have your bag at the counter if you need it.” When she doesn’t reply, and keeps walking, I say, “I’ll keep it on hold for you. I’ll remember you. Don’t you worry!”

One point for sales-ninja! Zero for the gaijin mochi-ball in a tank-top. *Sad face for you*

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Shoplifter: Welcome to the Jungle

We have a group of shoplifters, they are basically drag-queens–at least one of them is, and we think they others are. They could be ugly, fat women or ugly, fat guys with boobs and bad make-up. I’ve seen the drag-queen as a man, and he’s better off as a woman, believe me it’s scary. The man, though, is over six-feet two-inches tall and weighs well over two-hundred thirty pounds. He also wears high-heels.

The one thing I am blown away with is that, as huge as this man-woman is, whenever they walk through the store, no one, at all, ever sees them. It can be ten seconds later, and I ask, “Did you see a giant, giant fat drag-queen just walk by with two other giant fat women?” “No.” It is utter insanity that these shoplifters are such masters of illusion that they are totally invisible to the naked eye, because to me, they stand out like a beached whale at a sushi-bar. Or, perhaps my coworkers are chosen for the fact they see about as well in bright-daylight as bats, whom only use sonar and would consider these shoplifters just gigantic stalagmites in their way, similar to pillars. Since they are such skillful ninjas, they often just steal entire tables worth of clothing, and then disappear, without a single person seeing them–other than I. Seriously?

One day, we had a major project, and nearly the entire staff was working. I’m talking about one person every ten-feet. The shoplifters chose a really bad day to come in. I greet them as usual, and they, as usual, decide to split up and walk away from me–I can’t follow them all, right? I laugh, pulling out my walkie-talkie. Each and every one of my blind-as-moles coworkers received a very loud, “Hey, turn to the left!” I call out their name. They look up and find a giant drag-queen or a fat woman, whom jumps in surprise, and starts to bounce away like a pinball. I continue doing this for a little while more, then call out to them, “Bad day to come in, the entire staff is here and they all know what you look like now. Congratulations!” I went on to announce the presence of our most infamous shoplifters, whom have stolen hundreds of work-hours worth of clothing from my coworkers bank-accounts to pay for rent, food, and survive. They all turn to look at the drag-queen and his cohorts as they quickly leave, scowling at me.

“Thanks for coming, please come again!” I tell them as they leave. “At least they know what you look like now.”