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November 24, 2003
The indignity
The big electronics stores, Best Buy, CompUSA, etc., have all instituted the loss-prevention policy of having stooges waiting at the exits to check departing customers' receipts. I don't enjoy being treated like a shoplifter, so I have instituted a policy of my own: I walk right by their dumb asses.
I mostly shop at Best Buy, and the extent to which they've enforced their policy has been a hoarse, guttural yell as they eat my dust and the door closes behind me: "Sir! Sir! SIR!" One time, I didn't even buy anything at Best Buy, but I was holding a Barnes & Noble bag. The woman at the door asked me to hold my bag open for her. I said, in an incredulous tone, "No." Do I want Judy Minimumwage to see that I've just purchased the latest issue of "Big, Busty, & Beautiful?" Well, maybe I do. But what indignities must we suffer for the privilege of entering a store? I choose to suffer none. And no mindless corporate drones have challenged me on that count. Not until today.
I was leaving CompUSA, holding my newly-purchased 256 MB Sandisk SD memory card, and breezed past the "guard" as usual. "Sir, may I see your receipt?" he asked. I continued by him in silence.
And it was then, as the cool night air hit my face, that I felt a sharp tug on the hood of my coat!
The insolence!
He had breached the invisible bubble that separates me from every other pathetic human on the planet, and dared to make physical contact with my being. What an insult.
I wheeled around to confront this troglodyte, who had followed me into the street.
"Sir, please step back into the store."
"Are you accusing me of shoplifting?" I asked. You see, they're legally entitled to use "due force" to retain suspected shoplifters until the police arrive. Otherwise, they're not legally entitled to shit.
"No."
"Then good night." I turned away.
"Sir!" His hand on my arm. "Please step back into the store."
Well, we were now in public, and he was physically attempting to restrain me, which I can guarantee is not something you want to be doing to The Toninator. (That's me.)
I briefly considered punching him in his greasy face, but that would have been unfortunate, for then I would have committed a crime.
So I did the next best thing: I squealed like Macauley Culkin in Michael Jackson's secret lovechamber.
"Don't touch me!" I shouted. And then, when he reached out again, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
The New York passersby turned their heads ever so slightly, just enough to witness the event but not enough to demonstrate any interest or human emotion. New Yorkers are good at that.
And then Frank Ninetofive decided that it wasn't worth his while to get in a shouting-and-wrestling match on the Manhattan sidewalk with someone who looked like an extra from "Revenge of the Nerds." I continued on my merry way, and was unmolested for the rest of the night.
A nice way to spend a Friday evening.
Posted by tony at November 24, 2003 12:00 AM
