Something was off. He had the uniform on, but he was not doing the normal “scanny” thing they normally do. I’d seen dozens of these contracted shoppers using their company’s app on their phone to complete shopping orders customers had placed, but this guy was not doing it right. It was always frustrating when I’d get suspicious of a contracted shopper because I didn’t have the full playbook in front of me. I was always using the conclusions I’d drawn from what I’d observed of them in the past, I’d never been given a full rundown on what they should and shouldn’t do while performing a shopping trip. It was like watching soccer when you only knew the rules for baseball.
Anywho. This guy had a full size cart, with reusable bags lining the entire inside. Sometimes this alone is a bad sign, however in conjunction with the “not scanning”, it was a worse sign. “Can you come down to my office?” I barked into my phone’s receiver. “On my way,” Ben responded. Ben was one of my store managers, and to say that he was enthusiastic when I’d call, was an understatement. He was extremely supportive and very competent, two qualities that always made apprehending shoplifters easier; and because apprehensions were always such crap shoots, easier was always a consideration for every step of the process.
My door swung open. “What do we got?” Ben asked. I pointed to one of my two monitors, “this guy has the lanyard, so I know he’s a contracted shopper, but he’s not scanning any of the stuff he’s selecting. I mean, he’s supposed to be scanning it, right?” I asked. “Absolutely. That is strange,” Ben replied. “He’s also been shopping into those reusable bags, and whenever one gets full, he zips it shut. I don’t like that,” I grimaced. “I mean, no, that’s not good, but what’s he got?” Ben inquired. “I mean,” I started. Sometimes it’s helpful to mirror someone’s words or actions in a conversation to help get them to the same conclusion as you quicker, and I needed Ben to get with me because this guy was moving quickly.
The situation grew dicier, as we watched the shopper whiz through aisles, selecting and concealing various merchandise. I called my boss, told them the situation, and sat with fingers crossed that they’d understand why I needed to call the police. “There’s at least $200 worth of merchandise in his bags, and I know I’m underestimating,” I pleaded. “I understand,” they said, and I knew that was the closest to permission I was going to get. I ended the call and quickly punched in the local dispatchers extension to the phone keypad. The call was brief, but the dispatcher assured me she’d send an officer my way. I took a deep breath, this guy was finishing up and I had to get ready for his exit plan.
“Hold up,” I said, “is he headed towards a register?” “Oh shit, it kinda looks like it,” Ben returned, a look of surprise hitting both our faces. Nope. Right for the emergency exit, right next to my office. “Well, it looks like we won’t have to go far,” Ben joked. “Nope, but we do have to go,” I jumped up and took 3 big leaps towards my door, keeping my eyes trained to my monitors so I didn’t miss a thing. The man was just through a closed register and at the top of the hall to the exit, right next to the door I was anxiously perched against.
“He’s hit blacktop,” Ben called. I popped open my door and jogged through the emergency exit. I kept my steps quiet as I approached the shopper, cautious not to startle him. I sauntered around to the front of his cart and placed my hands on the cool metal. “Hi Sir, I’m with the store, we need to talk about the merchandise that was not paid for,” I told him. “Umm, I’m a contracted shopper,” he said matter-of-factly. I stared quietly at him and waited. “I’m shopping for an order for a customer,” he continued, “I need to deliver it.” “Well, it hasn’t been paid for and we’re gonna go figure out why that happened,” I told him gently and smiling, “follow Ben, I’ll be right behind you with the cart.” I motioned to Ben and then for the shopper to start walking. He hesitated momentarily, but I assured him we would get it all sorted out, and he sort of dragged his feet all the way to my office.
Ben opened the door and pointed to a plastic chair at a round processing table. The man took a seat, and with my foot propping my door open, I grabbed an employee to start ringing up the merchandise in the reusable bags. I never wanted to leave anyone alone with a shoplifter, not always because I was worried about what a shoplifter might try to pull, but because I never wanted myself or anyone else to get caught in a bad situation with no witness.
Once fully back in the office, I requested the shoppers license and began jotting down pertinent identifying information. “Listen, this is ridiculous. I was shopping for an order for a customer and I was going to come inside and pay,” he said, clearly getting frustrated, “I just wanted to put the bags in my car.” I continued notetaking and began burning the footage of the theft onto a DVD for the police, never looking up from my work. “Did you hear me?” the man barked. I glanced at him, “yes,” I replied calmly and walked to grab the merchandise receipt slid under my door. I did not want to re-explain the situation when the police arrived, so I was holding my tongue for a few and he would just have to be patient.
Then came a familiar knock at my door, followed by a friendly face. “Hi Officer,” I said. The man sat up in his chair, immediately softening and becoming more amenable. “Sir,” he nodded to the officer. I was used to this change in demeanor in the presence of the police. Much to my chagrin, and clear protest, I am not always as intimidating as I picture myself, so often I would get the back talk and sass from shoplifters, who immediately became sweet angels when a uniform strolled through the door. Knowing that they underestimated me was always the fuel I needed to make it through their bullshit, though sometimes they made it pretty tough.
“So what is going on today,” the officer asked me. “Well, Mr. Hughes selected and concealed approximately $440 in merchandise, then he passed all points of sale without rendering payment, and I approached him on the blacktop of the parking lot en route to his car,” I stated, handing him the information form I’d filled out on Mr. Hughes. “Thank you kindly,” he replied, taking the form and relaying the information into the walkie on his shoulder. “Everything checks out,” the officer informed me.
“So Sir, what’s going on today?” he asked Mr. Hughes. “Well, you see Sir, as I was trying to tell the young lady, I’m a contracted shopper,” Hughes began, “I’d finished selecting all the merchandise for the shop and I was just placing it in my car before I came back in to pay.” “And how did you plan to pay without the merchandise?” asked the officer. “Well, umm, umm, I thought the customer had paid for it already,” Hughes stammered. “How long have you been doing this job?” the officer followed up. “A few months,” Hughes answered. “Then you know that you have to scan all the items into the phone to be approved by the app? I asked. “Well, yes, but …” Hughes began. “And you were going to leave to deliver the groceries because you thought the customer paid for them already?” I continued. “Well, yes. I was going to make the delivery because I was done with the shop,” Hughes surmised. “So you didn’t scan any of the merchandise, you didn’t pay at the register with the company card the way you are supposed to, and then you left the store with the intention to leave the property, is that what you’re saying?” I questioned. Hughes resigned, “yes that’s what I’m saying.” “Okay then, officer?” I trailed off, collecting the evidence and handing it to the officer. “Yep, I got it from here,” he replied, motioning for Hughes to stand and put his hands behind his back.
With the squad car on its way to the station, Ben and I retreated back to my office. “I wonder how many times he’s done that,” Ben offered. “I honestly don’t want to think about it,” I retorted, “but judging from the dollar amount, quite a few. This has got to be happening all over the place.” “Yeah, it’s definitely a good one to share with the other stores,” Ben replied. “I’m going to have to be much more attentive to these contracted shoppers,” I shook my head, “I think I need to learn more about their processes, can’t just trust their uniforms. This system could really become a problem.”
Catie Zimmerman 