Life in a Liquor Shop

My retail experience has finally come full circle.

Aside from learning much about wine, beers and spirits (and of course, selling them), I have rapped sales talk, swayed customers into preferring our own brand, suggested which wine can go with which cuisine, recommended grape variety/region/vintage over other types, faked personal knowledge about the product to get them convinced to buy it or not (Well, I'm no drinker to begin with.), given wine tastings complete with memorised tasting notes, snubbed off drunkards who try their luck getting more, built rapport with regulars... and today had my share of shoplifters.

There were three of them boys, all dressed in baggy jumpers and trackies. One was even sporting a sling over his shoulder, purporting an injury but actually was the bag in which to put in his picks.

While one kid was obviously trying to upset me with his sloppy chickenburger consumption by intentionally making drippings onto the floor, the other two busied themselves in the ref aisle. It seemed they hadn't only done this a few times and pretty much knew well how to distract their victim. Of course, in this case, that's me. :( Every one of them kept me busy, asking prices of different beers and spirits. Alicia, our bookkeeper, was well-hidden at the back but was also watching the chook dancer pacing near the till. Unfortunately, everything under two minutes transpired pretty smooth for the two at the ref area, which required a giraffe's neck to view from where I was.

When later I asked them for proof of age, one said he was already 23. The guy with supposedly an arm fracture produced a dilapidated passport and took out his "broken arm" to show he was tucking under his jumper a Smirnoff bottle, which we don't sell. He was trying to convince me that it was actually him in the old photo, but I was more interested in his birth date, which I noticed didn't make him at least 18 yet. He closed his passport and reiterated with annoyance that he was born in 1986. With a tight upper lip, I told him that what I read was 1989 and that even if he was born in 1986 as he claimed, he'd actually be 19 because he was born on a May. The chook them joined them and said the sealing statement for the trio, "Well, let's go. She doesn't trust you, mate."

I sure didn't.

I was sure something fishy went on, but neither Alicia nor I was brave enough to confront them on our suspicion. It left me fuming and Alicia shocked to find a drastic change in the stocktake, which we painstakingly covered in days. (Just imagine counting thousands of bottles!) When Angie, the shop owner, arrived, we reviewed the playback at the surveillance monitor. I was completely stupefied, shocked, outraged, disgusted, and basically traumatised with what we found. To be in the midst of something like that is temper-challenging and control-wracking, but the scene of it all is nauseating. How these kids commit such petty crimes and knowing they're actually aware of what they're doing, is most disturbing.

Hmmm. Let me find consolation in the fact that it wasn't a hold-up and neither of us was hurt. I know being held up or robbed will outdo this and probably truly complete my so-called life in retailing, but God, I hope that will never ever happen.