Apr. 7th, 2008 05:05 pm
Draminicks
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muckefuckThe other night, I found myself at the local grocery around 11 p.m. picking up milk and cereal for Sunday breakfast. There was only one checkout line open and near the head of it was a little Ruth Gordon with a disreputable dog blanket wrap and a blonde wig that looked salvaged from the trash, so I settled in for a nice, long wait. I was not disappointed, but there were extenuating circumstances.
My attention was drawn by an argument near the front of the store. A large, burly man had a skinny teenager by the front of his shirt, and the kid was threatening to kill him if he let him go. They were using quite familiar terms of address (such as "cousin") with each other, so it wasn't until the dispute had escalated that I realised the larger man was actually a plainclothes security guard. This was after the manager, who had just opened a second register, left his post in order to come to his assistance.
In short, the boy had been nicked leaving with a bottle of unpaid-for wine. He offered to make good, but the guard called it "too late for that" and tried to hustle him towards the office to wait for the police, who my cashier had just been instructed to call. The kid was having none of it, though, and eventually the guard wrestled him to the ground and pinned him while he waited for the manager to cuff him. "Don't injure him or he'll sue you!" pointed out the old lady, and I didn't want to ask how she knew this.
This was all taking place only a few feet from registers, so pretty much the entire crowd was transfixed by the free show, including the young cashier. I'm afraid my callousness born of years of urban living came to the fore because I got her attention and asked, "Are you still open?" Flustered, she did her best to complete the old biddy's transaction, but it would've been a trial under even the best of conditions. With both of them distracted by the shouting only a short leap away, it was a complete fiasco.
Meanwhile, the tableau continued to unfold. The two store employees finally frogmarched the young man into the office, and the guard was trying to get rid of his buddy, who had been keeping a safe distance while urging the men to let his homie go and offering to pay for the wine as well. The guard repeatedly threatened him with arrest as well, but it was taking a while to sink in.
Then a distraught young woman showed up and started kicking the office door and screaming. The guard warned her that he'd take her in, too, and she replied, "I DON'T CARE IF I GO TO JAIL! OPEN THIS DOOR!" They obliged, and she disappeared inside. Then a young man who had been right behind me in line until the manager open a new aisle and he moved over asked, "Could we have our receipt?" which caused a wave of nervous laughter to break as another employee walked up, tore off the slip, and handed it to them.
Around this time, three more chavs wandered in, went up to the office door, and tried to negotiate with the employees; I kept my eyes warily on them in the unlikely event that one of them was dumbass enough to pull a weapon. After what seemed like a dozen attempts to explain to the old woman how much she owed over and above what her Link card had covered, she paid up and shuffled on and the young Ethiopian at the register moved on to the customer directly in front of me.
This is more or less when the police came in. "Anyone not involved in this, STEP OFF!" they announced and the boys vanished like smoke. "She goin' in for assault and he goin' for assault and retail!" instructed our Tysonesque security guard as the cops took over. When my turn came, I spoke to distressed checkout woman in the calmest and cheeriest manner possible, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I thanked the bagger and wished him "a less eventful evening" from now on. "Sometimes they solve these things without so much conflict by just letting them pay for it," he informed me. As I was crossing the parking lot, I saw six or eight hoodlums in hoodies--including the four I'd seen arguing inside--plotting their next move.
My attention was drawn by an argument near the front of the store. A large, burly man had a skinny teenager by the front of his shirt, and the kid was threatening to kill him if he let him go. They were using quite familiar terms of address (such as "cousin") with each other, so it wasn't until the dispute had escalated that I realised the larger man was actually a plainclothes security guard. This was after the manager, who had just opened a second register, left his post in order to come to his assistance.
In short, the boy had been nicked leaving with a bottle of unpaid-for wine. He offered to make good, but the guard called it "too late for that" and tried to hustle him towards the office to wait for the police, who my cashier had just been instructed to call. The kid was having none of it, though, and eventually the guard wrestled him to the ground and pinned him while he waited for the manager to cuff him. "Don't injure him or he'll sue you!" pointed out the old lady, and I didn't want to ask how she knew this.
This was all taking place only a few feet from registers, so pretty much the entire crowd was transfixed by the free show, including the young cashier. I'm afraid my callousness born of years of urban living came to the fore because I got her attention and asked, "Are you still open?" Flustered, she did her best to complete the old biddy's transaction, but it would've been a trial under even the best of conditions. With both of them distracted by the shouting only a short leap away, it was a complete fiasco.
Meanwhile, the tableau continued to unfold. The two store employees finally frogmarched the young man into the office, and the guard was trying to get rid of his buddy, who had been keeping a safe distance while urging the men to let his homie go and offering to pay for the wine as well. The guard repeatedly threatened him with arrest as well, but it was taking a while to sink in.
Then a distraught young woman showed up and started kicking the office door and screaming. The guard warned her that he'd take her in, too, and she replied, "I DON'T CARE IF I GO TO JAIL! OPEN THIS DOOR!" They obliged, and she disappeared inside. Then a young man who had been right behind me in line until the manager open a new aisle and he moved over asked, "Could we have our receipt?" which caused a wave of nervous laughter to break as another employee walked up, tore off the slip, and handed it to them.
Around this time, three more chavs wandered in, went up to the office door, and tried to negotiate with the employees; I kept my eyes warily on them in the unlikely event that one of them was dumbass enough to pull a weapon. After what seemed like a dozen attempts to explain to the old woman how much she owed over and above what her Link card had covered, she paid up and shuffled on and the young Ethiopian at the register moved on to the customer directly in front of me.
This is more or less when the police came in. "Anyone not involved in this, STEP OFF!" they announced and the boys vanished like smoke. "She goin' in for assault and he goin' for assault and retail!" instructed our Tysonesque security guard as the cops took over. When my turn came, I spoke to distressed checkout woman in the calmest and cheeriest manner possible, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I thanked the bagger and wished him "a less eventful evening" from now on. "Sometimes they solve these things without so much conflict by just letting them pay for it," he informed me. As I was crossing the parking lot, I saw six or eight hoodlums in hoodies--including the four I'd seen arguing inside--plotting their next move.
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"Assault and retail?"
Re: "Assault and retail?"
Interestingly, if only to
(I'm also not sure whether our library has the statutorily mandated copy of the act posted at the entrance. I should look into that.)
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(Conversely, the illegality of handguns in Chicago for the last quarter century doesn't seem to correlate super-well with their absence from the city-- I wouldn't want to put too much money on no one in the store having had one on them.)
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Nah. He's just showing off :-)
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