The world's worst shoplifter
I spent about six months of my youth working at a small branch of Jon Menzies. A little way up the road from the shop was a home for the...ah...reality challenged. Every Wednesday was open-door day, where the 'guests' of said establishment were allowed a few hours to wander, unaccompanied, around the town. This made for some amusing encounters now and again, but one in particular relates to this QOTW.

This old chap would come into the shop, regular as clockwork, every Wednesday afternoon just after lunch. Regardless of the weather he'd be wearing a full-length mac, done up to the neck. He'd look around shiftily, then head for the books section. Once there, he'd begin artlessly shoving whatever books he could grab quickest into his pockets -- pockets which had had the lining removed, so that the books fell into the lining of the coat itself (somewhat reminiscent of my own cunning ruse, mentioned earlier).

The dumbest part of this whole routine -- dumber even than the fact that within seconds of entering the shop he would always have been spotted and would be followed closely by at least one staff member until he left -- was that he didn't know when to stop. So he'd carry on stuffing his pockets until the coat was literally bulging with swag and he could barely navigate the aisles to make his escape. We'd let him get on with it because watching this straggly little man waddle unsteadily about the place as the overburdened coat knocked into shelving, standees and random bystanders was simply hilarious and brightened up an otherwise dull weekday afternoon no end.

Of course he'd always be accosted before he was able to leave the place with any merchandise, and asked politely to return it. He'd kick up a stink (he had an impressively foul mouth for an old fella) but the suggestion that the police be called was always enough to calm him down. Then he'd go on his way. Until next week, of course...
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 10 Jan 2008, 13:41, Reply)