Crime Spree
It’s over now so I can write about it. My life of crime was short lived but a terrifying, mind numbing experience. I am rehabilitated now - thanks to Costco (a.k.a. Sam’s Club).
It started out simple enough, an extra ketchup packet here, a relish packet there. Always taking one or two more than needed because “I might use them”. You can rationalize anything you want. It progressed to utensils. Not the standard run of the mill plastic knifes, forks, and spoons; no these were the good ones - individually wrapped. Again, always taking an extra one or so, just in case they break. There’s that rationalization thing again.
When I started cooking and taking meals to my father in law, Vic, I stepped it up big time. Vic’s meals were never a problem but the condiments like mustard, BBQ sauce, tartar sauce, and ranch dressing were driving me up the wall. I didn’t have any containers to transport them. One day at a fast food restaurant, I spotted a plastic one and half-ounce sauce cup complete with lid. They were setting there, out in the open, free for customers to take and put the appropriate sauce in. I order something off the menu so as not to draw attention to myself when near the sauce cups. Casually, ever so casually, I slipped an extra three into the bag “just to see if they worked”. As I said, you can rationalize anything you want.
That night at home, I tried them and they worked great. I knew I would be on the lamb and running from the law the rest of my life all because of those darn little condiment cups. Little did I know I would soon be overwhelmed with guilt by my recent crime spree. So, I tried another approach. The next day at the fast food restaurant (yeah, same one with the cute little cups) I asked the kid at the counter if I could take any extra five or so. He gave me a funny looked but said, “Yeah, sure.” I took eight. Rationalizing that the extra three cups fell into the “or so” category. I was hardened now, even with permission from a kid who really didn’t care or wasn’t paying for them; I had taken more than I should have.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be ducking into doorways at the sight of a police car and breaking into a cold sweat every time I heard a siren. But, some how, some way, I had to get those condiments to Vic. He can’t eat pork roast without horseradish.
One day, shortly after ordering the standard fifty-nine cent taco and lifting six or seven extra condiment cups my cell phone rang. The sudden shock of hearing the ring almost foiled my getaway; I dropped the extra cups on the counter. Every eye in the place had to be on me. In my heart, I had known it would only be a matter of time before I was busted. I grabbed my taco, threw the cups in the bag and ran outside to answer the cell phone. It was my wife and she was at Costco. She said they had two-ounce condiment cups with lids and asked if she should pick some up. I thought that was a bad choice of words on her part. “Absolutely. Buy some”, I replied, thinking to myself - I can’t keep living like this.
My advice to you is simple, don’t live the life I did, and don’t follow me down the road of crime. If you need two ounce condiment cups call me. I’ll ship them to you. There are 1,200 in the basement.
It started out simple enough, an extra ketchup packet here, a relish packet there. Always taking one or two more than needed because “I might use them”. You can rationalize anything you want. It progressed to utensils. Not the standard run of the mill plastic knifes, forks, and spoons; no these were the good ones - individually wrapped. Again, always taking an extra one or so, just in case they break. There’s that rationalization thing again.
When I started cooking and taking meals to my father in law, Vic, I stepped it up big time. Vic’s meals were never a problem but the condiments like mustard, BBQ sauce, tartar sauce, and ranch dressing were driving me up the wall. I didn’t have any containers to transport them. One day at a fast food restaurant, I spotted a plastic one and half-ounce sauce cup complete with lid. They were setting there, out in the open, free for customers to take and put the appropriate sauce in. I order something off the menu so as not to draw attention to myself when near the sauce cups. Casually, ever so casually, I slipped an extra three into the bag “just to see if they worked”. As I said, you can rationalize anything you want.
That night at home, I tried them and they worked great. I knew I would be on the lamb and running from the law the rest of my life all because of those darn little condiment cups. Little did I know I would soon be overwhelmed with guilt by my recent crime spree. So, I tried another approach. The next day at the fast food restaurant (yeah, same one with the cute little cups) I asked the kid at the counter if I could take any extra five or so. He gave me a funny looked but said, “Yeah, sure.” I took eight. Rationalizing that the extra three cups fell into the “or so” category. I was hardened now, even with permission from a kid who really didn’t care or wasn’t paying for them; I had taken more than I should have.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be ducking into doorways at the sight of a police car and breaking into a cold sweat every time I heard a siren. But, some how, some way, I had to get those condiments to Vic. He can’t eat pork roast without horseradish.
One day, shortly after ordering the standard fifty-nine cent taco and lifting six or seven extra condiment cups my cell phone rang. The sudden shock of hearing the ring almost foiled my getaway; I dropped the extra cups on the counter. Every eye in the place had to be on me. In my heart, I had known it would only be a matter of time before I was busted. I grabbed my taco, threw the cups in the bag and ran outside to answer the cell phone. It was my wife and she was at Costco. She said they had two-ounce condiment cups with lids and asked if she should pick some up. I thought that was a bad choice of words on her part. “Absolutely. Buy some”, I replied, thinking to myself - I can’t keep living like this.
My advice to you is simple, don’t live the life I did, and don’t follow me down the road of crime. If you need two ounce condiment cups call me. I’ll ship them to you. There are 1,200 in the basement.
posted by Ralph at 5:06 AM
7 Comments:
I'm glad you're reformed. If you went to jail you wouldn't have had Martha to cook for you. She was 'sprung' yesterday. As Carson used to say,"Funny stuff".
Gee- I thought I posted here the other night. Google must have eaten it with *relish.*
Well-written! VERY entertaining. I smiled through your entire account.
I sure remember when I was a wee one and wondering if those things were REALLY free. I also remember seeing people stuff them (especially sugar packets) in their pocketbooks or pockets and thinking "thief!" But wanting that sugar...
I was only 4 or 5 yrs old then. Still, I have a hard time w/ those "buffet style" items. WHen my kids were very young, it was easier to justify the pile of napkins needed. (I am not a ketchup kleptomaniac ;). However, now I need those napkins, because I'm a klutz. LOL. No kids or grandkids for an excuse. I'll pass on your basement stock. HAHAH, you're a scream. :)
Too funny! Thanks for the laugh. :0)
Great post! You CAN get (buy) condiment packets in bulk at Costco and Sams if you are still so inclined to use them. ;o)
Ralph, at taco bell they have salsa packets with funny sayings. One says something like "sure, throw me in the glove box"! or someting better then that. Wish I could remember it now. I think some fast food joints wright those packets off as advertising 8->
Haha .. okay, check, and don't worry my lips are sealed, your secret is safe with me! Umz ... and yes, do send me some mustard, I might be able to get that in through my nose or something, or maybe my ears. Oh, I'll find a creative solution! Hehe .. Miles of smiles, Astrid.
Wow! What an Awesome Basement, I remember one year you were harboring baby trees down there. I think you have potential as an excellent criminal. Personally, I love the adrenalyn!
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