The Thief

The other day, while working at the store that is not called The Great White North (I’m inclined to call this location The Dirty South, but am afraid of what other connotations that may bring), we were almost robbed.

Yeah, I’ve said this before. I’ll probably say it again somewhere down the road. But robbery is no joke and therefore merits a blog post.

Anywho, I was helping a customer sell her gold to us, which we always do sitting down at the diamond counter; it’s more comfortable for the customer and easier for us to get an idea of what they’ve got — sitting down that is. The diamonds actually make it more distracting, but that’s another post for another day.

We were sitting there discussing her gold when a guy comes in. He’s my age and looking terribly nervous. If you remember, nervous people in a jewelry store do not put me at ease. This guy is not only “nervous”, he’s visibly freaking out.

“oh…… you have an emerald-cut diamond?  ………..oh….this is so nerve-wracking….”

He must have said this 5 times to my coworker who was trying to figure out what in the world this guy was asking. Unable to form complete sentences, he also couldn’t stand in the same place or look at the same thing for more than two seconds. I was still sitting at the diamond counter with my customer who is now as visibly uncomfortable as I felt.

What does one do when you’re working at the diamond counter and a creeper wants a peek at it?

Tell me, please. What does one do?

I stayed right where I was. And I’ve thought about that decision a few times since the episode; should I have just moved right away? Should I have refused to move even when asked? What was the lesser of two evils? Giving this guy a full-view of the diamonds or making my customer so uncomfortable that we lose her?

Like I said, I stayed right where I was, determined not to move until asked. Finally, after a minute or two of unbroken sentences and this guy bouncing around like a pinball, my boss asked me kindly to move. I knew his goal was to get this guy out of the store as quickly as possible so maybe showing him that we didn’t have what he was looking for would move things along quicker.

We never opened the diamond case. I figured that rule out a long time ago: never open the diamond case for a man who’s so nervous he can’t even say the word “diamond”. Finally, this guy was frustrated with our (and by “our”, I mean my boss’) questions and inability to pull something out of the case that he left. The mayhem was over and all we were left with were questions.

And my customer didn’t sell her gold. She may have wanted to shop around for prices, but I fear it was the situation she was placed in. Hopefully she watched the news that night, realized it wasn’t just our store that attracts creepers  and has since come back to us.

Later on in the day, we got a call from my coworker who had gone home to hang out with her kids. “Christina…you.will.not.believe.what I just saw on the news.”

I had a hunch and replied, “no way.”

“yes, way.”

Our creeper was on the news! Not because he saved a kitty, either. His mug shot was plastered all over the television because he had robbed another jewelry store and attempted robbery at almost every other store in our county (it wasn’t until much later that I found he actually made it up to The Great White North as well).

Ever-a-fan of the way current media plays into our judicial system, I hopped online to check out the “breaking news story of a twentysomething serial-robbing jewelry stores”. After I found the story, I sat back in my chair a wee bit overwhelmed. Memories. Waves of nostalgia. So many thoughts of my past had instantly rush over me. Why?

Because I graduated from high school with this kid.

2 thoughts on “The Thief

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