Parenting sometimes gets me down, rather the details do. School lines, boxtops, peanut butter sandwiches that need the right size bags, incessant school fees, homework that just has to be done.
Every night.
Especially now that my husband’s in Iraq, the minutiae of life is pushed back to the part of my brain only activated by a phone call from school that goes something like this: “Mrs. French, did you forget your daughter’s piano lesson?”
One day, I was hurrying to get out of Wal-Mart, so I could get back to school for pick up. It was a day that I hadn’t heard from my husband and was worried about his safety when a lady at the door stopped me.
“Receipt?”
Now, I’d never been asked for a receipt in all my shopping excursions and I certainly didn’t want to start now.
Had I been profiled? Had there been a rash of shoplifters who hadn’t showered or brushed their hair?
I took a deep breath and stuck my hand down into the abyss that is my purse.
Empty Tic Tac box. Tweezers. One chop stick. Melted crayons that turned into a blob of wax that got stuck under my fingernails.
“Why do I have to show you the receipt? Do I look like I’m trying to steal something?” I was angry, which – in spite of my southern nature – actually showed.
“It’s just my job,” she said, calmly.
“I’m just trying to get out the door! Why don’t you ask that guy? Or that one?”
Two admittedly suspicious good ole boys walked by and didn’t appreciate being pointed out. I was making a scene.
“I’m late to get my kids!” I added, feeling the desperation of a person who’s always the last mom through the pick-up line.
What I didn’t know is that one of my items was oversized and they have to check the receipts for items not in bags. Shockingly, after my tirade, the elderly lady didn’t explain all that.
In a moment I’ve thought of several times since, the greeter simply put her hand on my arm.
“Honey, I love you. And everything’s gonna be okay.”
Then, quite surprisingly, she gave me my receipt and a hug, and I buried my nose into the shoulder of her polyester blue vest. We stood there, as if I’d found my long lost grandmother, in a sweet embrace and I reluctantly left her to go back into the harsh world represented by the Wal-Mart parking lot.
But the crayons weren’t the only things which melted that day.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
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2 comments:
Great story, Nancy. Isn't it great when we get what we need instead of what we deserve?
God bless,
-bill
Bill Williams
Retail receipt and bag checks are voluntary. If you don't wish to participate, you can politely decline the greeter's request and continue on your merry way.
Once you've paid for your merchandise, it becomes your personal property, and stores don't have the right to inspect that property unless they are prepared to offer proof that you have stolen. It may be store policy for greeters to ask for your receipt, but they can't make you participate in this security farce by blocking the exits. Merchants must have enough evidence to meet the established legal standard of "probable cause" or "reasonable suspicion" (depending on your state) in order to detain someone suspected of shoplifting. Refusing a receipt check meets neither standard.
If you decline the door checker and are prevented from leaving in any way (someone obstructs you or tells you to wait while a manager or security guard is summonned) the store is guilty of false imprisonment and, in some states, kidnapping.
Confrontations will rarely escalate to this point, but if the store employees forcibly block your path and insist that you show your receipt, you should call the police and press charges, because your rights are being violated.
Corey Friedman
Gastonia, N.C.
www.indieregister.com
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