As I briefly stated on Twitter (does anyone read Twitter these days? Hehehe) - I went "beep" at the supermarket again.
For some reason it is my destiny in life to go "beep" (see previous post
"I am not a shoplifter I just go "beep") whenever there are security devices or metal detectors. I once travelled from Melbourne to Los Angeles, California to Mexico, from LAX to Seattle, from Seattle to Hawaii, all going beep at every available opportunity. If I didn't look so clueless I probably would have got myself into trouble along the way. Strangely on my way back from Mexico to California, the jolly looking man at the border checkpoint smiled broadly and ushered me AROUND the metal detectors so I didn't have to get checked in any way. It was very nice of him and it's lucky for California that I'm not some kind of arms smuggler.
On returning from this trip I discovered the source of my troubles - a security sticker with a Terminator-style chip on the inside. This security disturber was stuck to the back of my liquid makeup.
Well, you would think that I would have learned by now but no. I bought Revlon New Complexion Makeup (sorry Musq!) and unbeknownst to me, it carried one of these strange stickers on the back of the bottle.
So I nonchalantly walk into the supermarket and hear a deafening beep. People looked at me suspiciously, like I was some kind of criminal. The fact that I was walking IN to the supermarket was lost on them. That had I been apprehended, I would have been found guilty of "shopputting" rather than "shoplifting".
This is an interesting concept. In London a company named TalkTalk hired a bunch of former pickpockets to become "
putpockets", distributing anything from 5 - 20 pounds to random strangers without their knowledge. I love this idea. It's nice. It's just that if I catch some dude with his hand in my bag I'm more likely to go Ninja on him rather than ask him whether he is dropping off or picking up. But I digress.
So I've just gone beep. I retreat to a quiet aisle where I can painstakingly remove the offending sticker. The sadists who made these stickers ensured that it was impossible to remove the dang thing without getting your fingernails clogged with brittle silver goo. Finally I found a loose thread and "wound" the whole sticker off. By this time I was sweating slightly and starting to panic at the thought of having to go beep on my way out. I had almost removed all traces of the crap when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker.
"Security check Aisle 5"
Oh yeah, whatever I thought. I remember some friends in retail telling me that people just say that over the speaker randomly to keep people on their toes. So I relaxed a bit.
Then I looked up - I was in Aisle 5.
Then I looked around - there was no-one else in Aisle 5.
My shopping expedition turned into a cloak and dagger game of evasion as I wound my way through aisles, scratching annoying bits of residual silvery sticky crap off the accursed bottle of makeup. And trying to clean my fingernails for fear that they might set off the alarm again.
I grabbed the few items I needed and escaped quite slowly through the checkout.
Receipt in hand, out into the arms of freedom, the fugitive lives to fight another day.
