Friday 27 September 2019

The Accidental Thief

I accidentally stole a Twix today.

There’s a Tesco just up the road from where I work. I have mentioned it many times before. Usually in the context that accessing it using a wheelchair is on a par with trying to get into Mordor to destroy The Precious. The shop floor is below street level so if you are not a stairs person - and I most definitely am not a stairs person in the same way that Boris Johnson is most definitely not an integrity person - you have to use the small lift by the door. The problem is it frequently fails to work. I think the current record for its uselessness stands at around six months. Six months in which ‘it’s been reported’ was there go to mantra. For a long time I gave up and resorted to Bargain Booze a little further on. Dark times.

Currently, however, the lift at Tesco works. We are in the midst of a golden age in which it has been possible for a wheelchair user to access Tesco on Tithebarn Street every day for ooh….at least the last three months. What a time to be alive. I go there to buy my lunch, principally because I am too lazy to either make a sandwich the night before or to get up a little bit earlier to do it in the morning. And also because we don’t always have packets of Mini Cheddars in the house whereas Tesco seems to have an endless supply. I must be the only person buying them.

Today I needed to buy some drinks. We haven’t got any in the house until we get the shopping delivery. We are well past the point where either myself or Emma actually goes into a supermarket to do a proper shop. Smaller supermarkets are fine if you are just going in to buy your Mini Cheddars and accidentally steal the odd Twix, but the larger stores are infested with Other People and those awful self-service machines. And that after you have spent half your life looking for a disabled parking bay that is not occupied by a boy-racer who has stopped off before he goes dogging in Sherdley Park or a rich person who considers themselves too important to adhere to parking regulations. There are a disproportionate number of Jaguars, Mercedes and other types of what are known locally as ‘posh cars’ in disabled bays in my experience. Oh, by the way, those of you who read my last entry will be relieved to know that I have stopped haemorrhaging cash at parking meters with the long-awaited arrival of my blue badge! Hurrah, and all that. Except that officially and according to the blue badge admin bods I am only disabled until the end of January 2020 which is as long as they have proof of my receipt of Personal Independence Payment. PIP PIP. Presumably at the end of January the miracle will be on and I will have no business claiming disability benefit. Looking forward to that.

Since I needed drinks I thought I would buy a handy six-pack of Coke. Knowing that they are quite bulky I knew I would have problems carrying them along with my sandwich (standard smoked ham and cheddar), the mandatory Mini Cheddars and the soon-to-be-accidentally stolen Twix. I put the latter in my coat pocket. It has been raining pretty much all day in Liverpool so the big coat is a must, especially with tonight’s almost important playoff between Saints and Wigan to consider also.

The problem is that when I picked up all of the other items on my modest list I completely forgot to take the Twix out of my pocket. It was an extra large one too. The Twix, that is, not the pocket. None of your standard fare. It wasn’t until I got back to work and reached into my coat pocket for my staff badge which operates the security doors that lead towards the office, that I felt the Twix and remembered that I hadn’t paid for it. I was mortified. I felt like some latter day Oliver Twist. Had I noticed earlier I would have gone back into the store and apologised and paid for it. But I had made it all the way back to the office by then. The journey to Tesco from the office is not long but it involves the ascent of a ramp that is about as much fun as my job. Taking into account my level of knackered-ness (I will be having that kidney transplant within the next few months) and the woeful state of the weather I decided against going back. They have made it even more difficult anyway because during the process of demolishing the flyovers in the city centre that has caused all manner of disruption around the building they have installed what they think are accessible drop-downs to the pavements. What they are in reality is ramps leading up to the lip of the kerb, so you have to push up the little ramp and then have enough momentum to get over the lip. I would rather just bump up a kerb from a flat surface. Someone with lesser chair skills than I, and I believe such people exist, will end up on their arse on Primrose Hill. Which sounds like a Coming Of Age movie starring Tom Hanks. On Their Arse On Primrose Hill. Emma Thompson would definitely take a role.

So I didn’t go back. I ate the Twix with my lunch and it tasted all the sweeter for the fact that I had stuck it to the corporate Man. My guilt is real but is tempered by all the times I have been unable to access the store because of the broken lift. In addition I've heard it said that disabled people need to be watched carefully in shops because they steal things. Apparently we are buggers for putting items for which we have not paid under the cushions of our seats and casually floating out of the door. I have never, ever done this, but I feel like I am tarred with this brush anyway. And now, accidentally, I have contributed to the stereotype. Confirmed the lazy prejudice.

It was only a Twix, but I am slightly surprised that a corporate bully like Tesco can allow this to happen. I would have expected some sort of alarm to go off, possibly one that speaks in the style of other modern technology in lifts and so forth. It might say something like ‘staff member to main entrance, a biff has stolen a Twix’ which it could just repeat until the filthy cushion-hider has been apprehended. They are surely missing a trick but then again, given that they have only just figured out a way of getting wheelchair users into their store on a consistent basis it is expecting a bit much for them to have developed a security system which prevents us stealing extra large Twixes.

No comments: