All in a days work ..

I clocked him as he staggered through the side entrance. Usual suspect. Thin with translucent, shiny skin. Brown, rotting teeth with gappy spaces. Expensive clothes and nice smelling, just sprayed aftershave.

First thing's first, and l ring our security guard. (You have to, as they wouldn't see a shop lifter unless they had a neon, flashing sign on them.) Then go over and fiddle about sorting something as if you're real busy.

"Need any help there ??"

It usually takes a good few seconds for these guys to come out of their fog, and look up from where he's tried to negotiate how to get that tag off !!

"Nah. Am just lookin' fur a pairo barrie jeans, like. Ma bairn's burfday ramora"

(Should he not be in the children's department, stealing a nice baby Burrburry!)

"Ok. Give's a shout if you need anything"

"Wha's tha' fuckin cun' lookin at ?? Every time a come in this doss hoose, they bastards folly mi'. Am no a fuckin' chory. Av got mare cash than AW you ugly cun's."

Oh boy. Here we go ..

The thing is, he's taking up my precious time. Time that could be used elsewhere. That old guy needs my attention, for example, and the security who are swamping him, rightly so, have five floors to cover.

"Right. Listen. First of all, don't swear in my workplace. It sounds vile. And second. We don't stock your size, so we won't waste each others time, ok ? Best just leave"

"Aw, aye, sorry pal. It's jist the way a talk, ken ?? Sorry doll"

(They always stick a hand out to shake, make up)

"Ok. No bother. Got a sore wrist, so can't do that, sorry, " l lie !

Walking over to exit with him, he resumes the shouting. There's a reason for that ..

This 'man' wakes up each day, and after doing whatever it is that junkies do to themselves, they set out to take anything they can.

Purses, bags, wallets, clothes, food ..

His anger is because he'd been prevented from completing HIS job.
And that's a scary thought. The other terrifying thought is of the kids these types of people create then get dragged up with them.

Our guys have decided to escort fella off the premises, and on the way out, he kicks over a table full of cashmere sweaters, but that's cool, as we just want rid of him now.

If only they could keep their trousers AND their potty mouths both zipped ..