Now standing in the security office in front of several stern-faced adults, I was shaking. I’m sure my face read like a book because I knew what this was about — it was about the system.
And this was the reckoning.
Even though I knew about and had seen the system in action first-hand, I was too afraid and prudish to have tried it myself. I hadn’t stolen a single dollar. Even if I had thought about trying it, fear and guilt kept me on the sidelines.
I hadn’t done anything wrong other than not squealing (yet), but here I was.
Mirrored sunglasses, staring directly at me since I walked into this chasm of hell, cuts right to the chase, “We know you’ve been stealing from the cash register. Now’s the time to come clean. If you do, we’ll go easy.”
Somehow, I choke out a feeble, “Um, no, I haven’t…”
“Bullshit! We’re way past that. We know you have.”
At this point, the dude-perm starts waving his finger at me, “Every dollar you put in your pocket comes right out of my pocket!”
This, coming from the guy who’s currently wearing 80’s style athletic short shorts that not only didn’t have a pocket but weren’t exactly concealing much else.
I just blinked and stammered. I wasn’t being smart, or coy, or playing any sort of game. I couldn’t even think. Had I peed myself?
