This Was The Way... Or, Fun With Shoplifters

 This morning on the national news, there was a segment reporting on the soaring levels of shoplifting in the U.K (the secret is to make the shops out of heavier materials of course) and I had a flashback to my time running (later owning) Dungeons & Starships in the 90s.

We had very tight stock control, and so I can be pretty certain that we had two - yes two - instances of shoplifting. In both cases, the goods were recovered - but in different ways as I shall relate here.

A few weeks after the store opened a young lad decided, one Tuesday morning to try and make off with a few packets of the new (this was the start of that particular scourge that is CCGs) Magic: The Gathering cards, but was caught, given the fright of his life and let go.

'Let go?' I hear you say. 'By YOU?' you rightly cry out.

Well you see, I'd seen the lad passing by a couple of times with his grandfather, a very stately and proud Indian gentleman of the old school, in I'd say his 70s. So, the next time I saw him passing I hailed him - to his surprise - and with an earnest and winning smile, related his grandson's antics.

I made it clear that it 'was nothing- a boyish prank - no real harm done to me'. And then I let nature take it's course. I can onnly imagine the sharrocking that lad got from his Daada.

Mission accomplished.

The second incident came about 12 months later. It was a nice quiet Thursday afternoon. The shop was buzzing along, making money, the gaming tables - not something you commonly saw back then - (more of this when I start to tell the story of D&S in future posts) had by now become an extension of the Student Union bar and some of the sharpest minds ever to wangle a discount in a game store were plying their trade.

Two American students were dutifully writing home, telling Mom that they were busy undertaking research on probabilty - we called it playing D&D - and the world was good.

One particular student  named Brian, who had made academia a full time job, was a de facto fixer and shop steward for the crowd. A great guy despite coming from the wrong side of the Pennines, who could write a book on how to milk every penny of discount out of whichever store he decided to set in his sights - and he did (more of this at a future date, too), Brian was trading MTG cards  and whupping the arse of anyone who cared to challenge him to a game and keeping up a rolling banter which, anyone who remembers these halcyon days will recall fondly.

I was at the counter speaking to Dave, a regular who would pop into the store after his shift as postman in his overalls and 3 foot long hair. He was a compact, powerful rugby player with a surprising turn of speed - over the years when he's owed me money, I've had to get him to put it on a flat service and step well away lest he snatch it back with a grin.

I can't remember who noticed, but a shifty, lanky kid in his 20s was slipping smaller boxed games into his jacket. Brian caught my eye and came over as the guy made his way out, and I suggested that Dave join me in going out the back door as there was a ginnel (alley way) adjacent to the store, we could cut down, Brian saying he'd mind the store and another custmer whose identity I forget went out the front. Dave followed, then popped back into the store emerging a few seconds later, and sure enough at the end of the ginnel our would-be Fagin was crouching over his booty, leaping to his feet when I uttered a dulcet 'Nah then!'

He stoof up in a measured way saying, 'OK, I'm leaving these here' and then ran off towards and along the dual carriageway which was uncrossable for about a half mile. We shouted to the guy who'd gone the front way to grab the stuff and shot off through the back streets, knowing we could make time on the guy and hopefully cut him off at the underpass near the Bramhall Lane stadium

We were making good time and the guy had stopped to catch his breath, but on seeing us, did a great rendition of the animated sequence from the song 'Bright Eyes' by Art Garfunkel, actually shouting 'I gave your stuff back' in a sort of worried falsetto as he ran.

I was slightly ahead of Dave, which given his fitness, was odd. But no matter - head fown and plough on. After 3 quarters of a mile of literally being on the guy's heels like Gabriel's Ratchets we gave up and collapsed laughing from a mix of fun and adrenaline.

As we walked back (running was out by this time) giggling like little girls, I asked Dave why A. He'd popped back into the shop? and B. How come he was a bit slower than expected?

At this Dave raised his eyebrow - never done less than dramatically - grinned, and slipped from his sweatshirt sleeve a hatchet we had hanging around in the back of the store that we'd used during the shopfit and which, had never taken home as it had both blade and hammerhead and had become useful over the last few months when we hat to do the odd repair or break down unwanted pallets after deliveries.

'What the fuck did you need that for?' I asked, eyes widening.

Dave just smiled and made a scalping gesture.

Anyway, word got around the local Thieve's Guild and we never had a shoplifting proble.

From then on, that hatchet was hung high on the wall in the store with 'Stealth Axe' written on it in magic marker. I still have it somewhere and the epithet is, I believe still clearly visible.

TTFN