Ruined for Life

If I wanted to steal a scanner, I don’t think I could get away with it. I could try and plan how to get the checker-person distracted enough so that I could furtively sneak the hand-held scanner into my purse but could you get out of the store? Wouldn’t the alarms go off screaming that you had stolen not just merchandise but the implement of purchasing the merchandise?

And yet, when I got home on Saturday after getting some gardening supplies, I found in the bottom of one of the bags, the scanner used at the checkout station. And now I’m faced with the dilemma of whether I’m really an honest person or not. I don’t already have my own scanner. It could come in handy. I could use it for — scanning things. Do they have any way of tracking who has it based on the last items purchased with it? Do I care? Couldn’t I just feign innocence by claiming I thought it was a toy gun for one of the boys?

Alright! Rest easy, mom. I’ll be giving it back. You’ve ruined me for life. I can’t even keep one penny more than I am due when they give me change, let alone a scanner.

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