When I was a kid working at the grocery store I caught a guy stuffing packaged ham slices down his pants.
I worked in a lumber yard at 16.
My manager asked me to watch this suspicious truck and tell me if he tried to take off.
They did take off, back out the in gate.
My vantage point were shadows back in the garage.
Guy turned round, jumped out hit the gate switch and split.
Peeling out.
Ran to the counter.
“Son of a bitch!” my boss yelled and called the police.
Then told me to go back out in the yard and watch.
Guy came back through the entrance gate again minutes later with half the load he’d drove out with.
Cops were at the counter the second time.
Cops told me to sit in the back of the scrap barn across from the registers.
Guy pulled up to the pay stop.
Cops took him into custody.
Next BoyScout Road:
Boss told me to get in the back of the cop car and take a ride to the residence of the suspect WHO by the way was the brother of the guy who owned My Brother’s Bar.
...not kidding.
We get to the one story ranch and the cops are in the Front Yard.
We walk though a familiar looking front door and stare at a kitchen table with a 60 yr oldish wife sobbing while her house is being ransacked, her husband in cuffs.
Interesting day? Almost as interesting as a ‘70’s Zappa album.
We were led past the sobstress and into the basement, which had a great deal of merchandise our store sold.
I’m still 16.
We hauled out everything from drywall, screws, nails, 1x2 strips, paneling, foam board, glue, tools, you name it...
Hauled it all out.
Then, on the way out my boss handed us screwdrivers and told us to take the front door.
The “Forever Door” as was its brand.
...and we did.
Nothing really changed after that. Total shrug moment.
Until now maybe.
One of our boys watched a fellow for some days, stealing and eating ice cream, in the store. The fellow had broken open a package of 6 small servings, and each day would come in and take from the broken package. He brought his own spoon.