It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes ... "When we stepped outside, I couldn't help stopping a moment to take in the sunset, which painted the sky behind the distant hills in rusts and pinks as striking as the loveliest kimono -- even more so, because no matter how magnificent a kimono is, your hands will never glow orange in its light. But in that sunset my hands seemed to have been dipped in some sort of iridescence. I raised them up and gazed at them for a long moment" (Memoirs of a Geisha, 221).
A customer tried to steal a VCR yesterday. She came through my line, and she had the VCR on the little "shelf" thing below the main body of the cart, if you know what I mean. The cart itself blocked my view, as did my counter, so I had no clue that something was even there. Being busy as all hell and having a longer line than I would have liked, and also being more trusting than I probably should be in this environment, there was no way I would have seen it unless she had put it up on my counter (which, I always assume, a customer would be honest enough to do). She handed me a large box which further blocked my view and distracted me, and I scanned that ... I scanned her other items that she put up on the counter, and she paid her "total" ... she went off, and I didn't think a thing about it. I moved on to the next customer. Mr. Backbrace, a fellow employee, was looking out for me, however. He came over and asked me if I had scanned that VCR ... my response was classic. "Huh? What VCR?"
Mr. Backbrace went over and stopped the "lady," who came back and was quite upset and tried to shift the blame onto me, basically accusing me of setting her up ("I thought she scanned it," she said among other things ... yeah right! My scanner doesn't go that far down! And I usually climb UP onto the counter if there is something in the cart that the customer doesn't want to lift.).
I hate this job a little more every day.