Glittery Crap

Dear Store Owners and Kiosk Keepers,

I have endured brightly wrapped candy, promising explosions of sugary goodness, awaiting me and my two tykes at every grocery checkout. After exiting the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, I have suffered dragging my kids through the Pirates of the Caribbean store overstocked with overly priced and cheaply made swords, hooks and buccaneer hats. I've even pulled my children screaming from displays of Fruit Roll-Ups, Chips Ahoy and Lays Potato Chips after gymnastics and swimming. (BTW, gymnastics and swimming, why at a place of fitness do you insist on hawking sugar and empty calories to kids? Paging Michelle Obama!)

Now, this by no means, is an old practice. When I was eight my family vacationed in Hawaii, and we were in some store and I was seduced by foil-wrapped glimmer and the promise of minty goodness in the form of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. I begged my father to buy me a pack. Because for some reason, it was very important at that particular moment, that I get what I wanted. But no matter how much I cajoled, he resolutely said no. This struck me as entirely unfair, because I clearly remember that I hardly ever asked for anything. (In retrospect, and now with kids of my own, I'm pretty sure I asked for crap all the time, but my memory is insistent and I will allow it to speak for itself.)

So, I stole the gum. And I got away with it. Or at least I thought I did. About a month after we returned home, my dad got a letter informing him that his eight year old son had stolen a pack of gum, and would we kindly remit ten cents at our earliest possible convenience.

Some back story...

I was born in Honolulu. Most folks assume my father must have been in the military because of my Hawaiian birth. But, no. Dad is part of that other prominent American institution of destruction and economic gain, real estate. My family is responsible for constructing one of the first hotels along Waikiki. I used to harvest a kernel of pride at the opening credits of Hawaii 5-0 as they quick-panned towards Diamond Head. If you have a discerning eye and don't blink you can just make out the silhouette of the Foster Tower Hotel. And that was home for the first nine months of my life, in the Foster Tower's penthouse.

Before you put me in the same category as Paris Hilton (although I do sometimes like running around without my knickers) know that this was a singular hotel, not a hotel chain. The Foster Tower is now condos and our family's connection to it long gone.

Anyway, on Oahu, my dad was (and I write this loosely) somewhat of a celebrity. His company had various holdings around the island. And our family picture would appear in the Honolulu newspaper whenever we would vacation there. So, when he got the letter in the mail about the lifted Wrigley's gum, I'm sure this wasn't regular procedure. Someone didn't want to embarrass my father publicly, and decided to use the long arm of the US Postal system to cushion the blow.

I remember running upstairs to my room and extracting a dime from my kiddie bank. But mostly I remember how shamed I felt when I handed the coin to my father. I'm sure it was that incident that kept me from entering the lucrative field of cat burglary.

But Store Owners and Kiosk Keepers, let me get back to you. I'd like to call a couple of you out by name...

How dare you Staples for having a tantalizing lollipop display! You sell office supplies! Lollipops should not be part of your purview. After returning home with printer cartridges and a ream of paper, you could have knocked me over with a staple remover when I deduced by the bulges from my kids' pockets that they had both committed lolly larceny.

Seasoned criminals! And they're only seven and four.

You probably want to point your toner-stained fingers with blame at my parenting skills. But I say, "Get thee behind me Staples!" It is you who are luring my little ones with luscious lickables, putting a lollipop display where a CD-ROM rack should be. Shame on you!

And before you start snickering Crocs Kiosk, know that I'm on your case as well. My children were immediately drawn to those drawers of plastic studs which one can buy to adorn your product. This prompted me to say, "No, we are not going to purchase overly priced doohickeys to decorate your already overly priced shoes." I have since found out that doohickey is not the technical term for a Croc stud. No, they have been given the unfortunate moniker jibbitz. But whether doohickey or jibbitz, three dollars for the face of Marge Simpson, really?

But even my threat, with a heavy innuendo of doomsday, could not stop my daughter from pocketing this gem:

What little girl wouldn't want to steal it? Hell, I want to steal it. It's brightly colored. It's heart shaped. And it's faceted like the Hope Diamond.

So, I did my job. I reprimanded them, returned the stolen booty with the kids in tow, and even said the obligatory, "I sure hope they don't call the police."

But now, Store Owners and Kiosk Keepers it's time for you to do your job and remove the glittery crap from their eye level.

Because kids are hardwired to steal. That's what they do. They are all, me, me...want, want, want...must have, must have, must have...with no sense of consequence. I realize you strategically place those items because soft parents often give in and buy this shit. But your practices have gotten so much more insidious. Products are shinier and more brightly colored. There are a thousand and one flavors and movie tie-ins. So, when there's a hard ass parent like me, who isn't inclined to indulge with geegaws and snicky-snacks, well, what recourse do my kids have but to steal.

Your stock holders might not appreciate moving the booty to an upper shelf, but parents all over this country would out and out praise you.

And I'm letting you know now, Staples, and Crocs and wicked grocery store chains, at some point one of my rugrats will steal something, and I'll take it from them, of course, but instead of wasting the gas and the time to return the bauble, Papa might just end up with a new jibbitz for his Crocs.

Put that in your lolly and suck it!


quiltygal said…
Amen to that Sir !! My eldest daughter worked as a checkout chick & if kids took lollies from the checkout display she told the parents to let them have them 'cos it was the shops fault for putting them there !!
LegalMist said…
And then it's complicated by the fact that banks and hair salons often have baskets or bins of lollipops sitting out, and they *let* the kids take one (or more), free! So then we get to a store where they're trying to sell them, and my kids totally don't get why they can't just *have* one.

So unfair.
Vodka Mom said…
oh my God I needed a laugh.

And you always come through.

you and your little gem stealing criminals.
Vodka Mom said…
and my word verif was gravi. a synonym for MONEY.
Vodka Logic said…
great post and although serious it gave me a chuckle.

You are so right about the glittery crap in stores and really why does Staples sell lollies???

Now my kids are practically grown ups it is still hard to get by shit...

I say you start a campaign.. I'll sign up.

PS apparently the theif gene doesn't fall far from the tree...just sayin ;)

Popular posts from this blog

Is Facebook Racist?

Coming out of the Shade

We've All Encountered Trayvon