eS ou're walking through a local store, cruising past the
. shampoos and hairsprays. This stuff’s getting expensive, you think, and
_ you've noticed that the bottles get smaller all the time — as a matter of fact,
they would easily fit in your coat pocket or backpack.
You glance around. Behind you, an elderly woman selects a hairbrush.
A young man examines the gels at the end of the aisle. Nobody is looking
at you. You quickly slip the bottle into your pocket and walk away.
_ "You wander down the next aisle, picking up a few more items. As you
carry them to the check-out, you feel odd. The weight of the shampoo bottle
pulls at your pocket, but who's going to suspect, since you're paying for the
other items? You collect your change and head for the door. Just after you
step out the door, a voice addresses you from behind. "Excuse me, store
security. You’ve neglected to pay for something. You'll have to come back
‘inside with me." . | |
- Shoplifting. It's a crime. Whether you reach into a till to snatch a few
twenties, or pocket a bottle of shampoo, the charge is theft.
- But how did you get caught? Nobody saw you, youre sure of that.
Nobody except for the store detective, who looked just like any other
shopper. :

Like the shampoo, store detectives come in various. sizes and shapes.
From the 19-year-old man in a leather jacket to ‘an elderly woman with a
cane, detectives make a point of blending in with the crowd. Most of us shop
oblivious to these "extra eyes" on the store. But Chris*, a local store
detective, says that the "regulars" know who he is and exactly what he does.

‘Terrace Review — March 20, 1992