My criminal career

Bryan's Childhood

One day, when I was around seven years old, my mother took my brother and me shopping at Market Basket (a Southern California grocery store that operated from 1930 into the 1980s). My brother, who is five years older than I, wandered off to the pharmacy next door, probably to browse the books and magazines, as he usually did. I accompanied Mom into the market.

Market Basket

Eventually, I became bored and slipped away from Mom long enough to find the candy aisle, to stare in awe at all of the different forms of sugar. For some reason, the U-NO bar caught my fancy and I decided that I must have it. Having no money, I slipped it into my jeans pocket and, sauntering casually, strolled past the registers and outside to freedom. Sensing no pursuit, I nevertheless hurriedly unwrapped and began eating. I seemed to be in the clear.

It was just at this moment, of course, that my brother chose to exit the pharmacy. He came over to me and asked where I had gotten the candy bar, and I, being new to the ways of criminal behavior and not having worked out a cover story beforehand, blurted out that Mom had bought it for me. Equity between us being paramount, he naturally went into the store to find said Mom and claim a candy bar of his own.

U-NO candy bar

And so it was that I was caught red-handed the very first time I shoplifted. Our mother dragged us back into the store and made me confess my pilfering to the cashier. I paid for the candy with a dime Mom gave me (ironically making my earlier declaration true), and the cashier let me off with a stern warning about the evils of a life of crime.

It was a humiliating and painful lesson, and the experience effectively and efficiently ended my budding criminal career.

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