Supermarket Sweep

I was Krogering on an ordinary Saturday afternoon when a slightly panicked voice interrupted Michael Bolton on the supermarket PA system.

“Security, code blue! Security code blue!”

I didn’t know what ‘code blue’ meant, but I hadn’t heard that much anxiety in a Kroger employee’s voice since the time a Spider Man backpack had been left in one of the kiddie carts. Eagerly, I pushed my Lean Cuisine-laden buggy to the front of the store, where cashiers and bag boys were craning their necks at each register in order to see what was going on over by the exit. Hubs had come to the grocery with me, and as he joined me in the checkout line, I filled him in on what was going down.

“Did you hear the announcement?” I whispered excitedly.

“What announcement?”

“Security code blue!” I said. “Some guy just said ‘Security code blue’ over the PA! How could you not have heard?”

“Security code blue? What was that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving until we find out!”

We got to the front of the line and Hubs asked the cashier what was going on.

“We nabbed a guy trying to steal a cart full of groceries,” she said importantly.

“Good job,” Hubs said. “You had to get him before he got out the door, didn’t you?” He looked over at me. “Otherwise, he’d have gotten off scot-free.” The woman nodded.

“Why’s that?” I asked him.

“Store policy,” he replied.

“Huh?”

“Herman told me,” he said. I nodded, satisfied by his answer. Herman was the guy in produce and, like a potato, he had a lot of eyes. In the back of his head. Or something. Anyway, I looked over at where the commotion had been going on and that’s when I spotted it.

“I bet I know which cart it was,” I said. The cashier followed my glance and laughed wryly. Beside the exit was a buggy loaded down with cases of Miller Light and diapers. That was it. Beer and diapers. It was kind of sad, really, because that meant the thief was someone’s daddy.

“This kind of thing happens every Saturday,” the cashier said, shaking her head. “There’s always some weird shit going down.”

“Oh, really?” I laughed. This particular Kroger was the most stereotypical suburban neighborhood see-everyone-you-know supermarket I’d ever seen. I was here almost every day sometimes, and the only thing of interest that I had ever seen was Cinderella.  Until now, anyway.

After we’d gotten home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the attempted crime. (I know what you’re thinking and I won’t dispute it. Lately, I don’t get out much.)