Stealing sucks

I've been a retailer/small business owner for eleven years now, and still haven't figured out how to deal with the deep pain that comes with finding out we've been shoplifted. I just don't understand it. I don't get how anyone could do that and sleep at night. I don't get how it's sort of a game for some people, or a challenge, or a sickness. Yeah, I saw that Oprah segment on the klepto women who stole just for a thrill. Then stuffed all their ill-gotten loot into the trunks of their BMWs, never to look at it (or wear it or use it) again, because the thrill was already gone. Or something. Get some help. Get a job. Stay outta my store!

It's not Les Miserables, folks. It's not a case of people stealing bread for their starving children. They're just stealing stuff they want, that they don't want to pay for. Jewelry, ribbon, candles. Aprons. How about that Newport Market thief, stealing expensive bottles of balsamic vinegar? [Hopefully they've solved that one.] I bet these thieves would scream bloody murder if someone just walked into their house and helped themselves to whatever they felt like.

It's especially heinous in a mom and pop store. There are no corporate pockets to dig from to cover the losses. There's no big tax write-off. Or profit margin increases to pay for more security. There's just us, sad because we need to reorder (and pay for) those necklaces that got stolen that we already ordered (and paid for).

On the other hand, I have to say that overall we've been pretty lucky in this regard over the years. We have a very trusting, low-key atmosphere, and a wonderful group of customers. So when shoplifting happens, it's a shock.

Consider for a moment the apron pictured (and the empty hanger behind it). Just got them in a few days ago. It took almost a month for the order to arrive, and we paid for them before they shipped. I put two up on this little stand in the back room, and sometime between 5pm on Friday and 11am on Saturday, someone just helped themselves to the cuter of the two, the chocolate brown one. Discerning taste, our little thief. I walked into the room and saw the empty hanger swinging in the wind, and my heart fell. Who would do that to us? What are they going to do with it? Give it as a gift? "Here: I picked this out just for you! I didn't pay for it; all I did was pull it off the hanger and stuff it into my giant handbag. Ha ha! Hope you enjoy wearing it."

So that did it (that, and a few other incidents this week). We're getting cameras. We've resisted surveillance all these years, because we feel like our little homestead has such a sweet and welcoming atmosphere. Cameras are just so... big brother. A little creepy. But we must. Note to that seemingly sweet and friendly person who stuffed entire bolts of expensive ribbon into her purse (along with a lot of other things): I come from a long family line of gentle and kind people. It takes a lot to get me mad. But when I get mad, I get REALLY mad. And I never forget. That's a little side effect of my Sicilian heritage.

As an antidote to this rant, I have to mention that one of our dear customers ran in the other day and plunked $3.50 down on the counter for a soap that we had forgotten to charge her for. I thought that was just the sweetest thing, that she realized it (we didn't) and made a special trip back to pay us for it. So dear! Cindy, if you're reading this, you're an angel, and I'm going to give you a free soap next time you're in, just because you did that!