Ramsey saw the woman pull a bankcard from her purse. There was no way to tell at her present distance if it was credit or debit. Whatever it was, it did not have a chip because the customer ran it through the slider, paused, stared at the screen, and slid it again. There was another pause, a frown, and the woman made a third attempt at getting the machine to recognize her card or her fund balance. Something was successful because Ramsey saw her finally stop tapping her foot in frustration and nod with evident satisfaction. The woman started to push her cart away when something caught her eye. She stopped, pulled out a five-pound bag of potatoes from under the cart and held them up for scanning. When the machine beeped, she ran her card again, this time managing to get the machine to accept it on the first try. She tossed the potatoes under the cart and started out.
Ramsey tossed her mostly empty coffee cup in the trash and stepped forward to halt the customer’s progress. “May I see your receipt?” The woman made no response, simply stared at her blankly. Ramsey pulled her store identification out of her back pocket and held it up for the woman to read.
“Why?” the woman asked.
Ramsey couldn’t decide if the woman should get points for not posing the question belligerently. How a customer responded to a request to see a receipt was not indicative of innocence or guilt. Innocent customers sometimes snapped and snarled, taking real offense to what they perceived as an accusation. Shoplifters had a variety of responses. Some were aggressive in their language and their posture. Others bluffed, producing a story that was so convoluted as to be unbelievable. Still others managed the confrontation with disarming equanimity. Ramsey put this woman into that final category.
Ramsey said, “I suspect the self-scanner was not working properly. You could help me confirm that, but I need to see your receipt.”
The customer reached into her purse and after a little digging, she produced the potato receipt. She handed it over.
“This is fine, but it’s only for the bag under your cart. What about everything else?”
“Well, you’re right about the scanner. Something’s wrong with it. It didn’t produce a receipt.”
“Really? That’s odd. When that happens, a light goes off to alert a cashier to the problem. Let’s give it a look. You’ll want a receipt for your records. What if you have to return something?”
“Oh, but that’s no problem,” the woman said as she accompanied Ramsey to the scanner. “Southridge has a generous return policy. You don’t always need a receipt.”
“True.” Ramsey apologized to another customer who was getting ready to use the self-scanner and told her they had to resolve a problem. The customer thanked her and moved on. “Then you’ve shopped here before,” she said to the bottle blonde.
“Sure. It’s a nice store. Everyone’s friendly.”
Ramsey nodded, pressed her code into the machine, tapped a few more keys, and brought up the machine’s recent purchase history. “See here,” Ramsey said, pointing to the screen. “There are your potatoes. The SKU, the price, date, and time. All there. Now…” She punched the keys again. “See here? Those are the purchases made by the person before you. Looks like they bought mostly food items. Canned goods. Pasta. Some cheese. You don’t have those items.”
“I think I do.”
Ramsey shook her head. “Fresh fruits and vegetables. Meat. Deli items. Chips. Dip. Milk.” She accepted the woman’s astonished stare as her due for tracking the purchases in her head. “What you did was pretend to run your card. You made a nice job of showing frustration and then success. Was that for me? Did you make me?”
The woman said nothing.
“We can try your card, this timeinthe slider, not beside it. If the machine takes it, you’re good.”
“Good?”
“I’ll have to talk to Paul. He’s the manager, but generally he’s easy going. He has the authority to let you walk. No call to the cops.”
The woman took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I don’t have enough to pay for all of this in my bank account.”
“Ah. It was debit card.”
“Yes.” Then, with a perfectly straight face, she said, “But I have cash in my car. I can pay for everything. I just need to run out to get it. I’ll leave everything here.”
“Well,” said Ramsey, similarly poker faced. “You can take the potatoes. They’re already paid for.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” She bent, picked them up, and pushed the cart out of her way so she could exit.
Ramsey circled and blocked her. She badly wanted to set her arms akimbo but resisted the urge as over-the-top posturing. “Really, lady?Really? Do I impress you as being that gullible?” Ramsey threw up an arm to block the five pounds of potatoes coming at her head. What was it with these tiny women swinging bags of food? Jeez.
Ramsey’s forearm took the full force of the blow. She cradled it as she ducked to avoid the second time it came around, and she was out of the bag’s reach when the woman launched it. The bag thudded hard against the wall behind her. It was hard not to imagine what that would have felt like upside her head. She winced.
“Whoa. Lady. Give it a rest.” Ramsey released her throbbing forearm and thrust her uninjured arm forward, palm out. “Don’t,” she said as the woman reached for another bag. There was a certain amount of transparency in the yellow Ridge bags, and Ramsey could see her reaching for the one that held two cans of Scrubbing Bubbles. Ouch. She didn’t wait for this bag to be used as a missile. She grabbed the end of the cart and pulled it out of the woman’s reach. In her peripheral vision, she saw the commotion had attracted bystanders.
Where was her on-shift partner? Where was Paul? Had anyone called the police?
One of the nearby cashiers had turned on the light at her station. It was blinking furiously. She made the universally accepted sign of a phone call, holding her thumb to an ear and her pinkie close to her mouth, and nodded to Ramsey.
Ramsey pushed the cart behind her so there was nothing between her and the bottle blonde. The woman missed her opportunity to back out of the aisle a few moments earlier. Sharon from customer service had come around with a cart full of items for returning to the shelves and used it to block the woman’s retreat.
