Steal

Out with the small. In with the big. To make it happen, I head to a rectangular shaped store with goods ranging from bras to laptops. "That one," I say, pointing to the biggest television I can manage out the door without assistance. The sales clerk searches in the back and returns with box on cart. He takes and swipes my credit card. He pauses and looks at me. He swipes a second time. Rejected. Excuse me? Yes, the card was not accepted. Impossible. It's a new POWER card. It earns rewards that empower me to buy more stuff. More important big stuff. Well, right now it's not. I step aside and call my card company. They put me on hold. They refer me to another number. They put me on hold. Then a stranger asks everything about me. Place of birth? Second email address? Father's middle name? Lost childhood toy? Underwire size? (Not really the last two) What's going on? I demand to know. Your card works now. All fine. Maybe to you, but not to me. "You're at a high risk store." I freeze. High risk for what? Should I take cover? Run? Get down! No, no, no, it's high risk for people making electronic purchases with stolen cards. And we see in your file that you never shop at box mart. I know, please don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm ashamed. What would people in Santa Cruz I aspire to be like think if they knew of this falter? I go back to the salesclerk with card company on the line. They talk through the purchase. Your receipt. Thank you. Our apologies. No problem. Need help? Yes. A take-out man appears. He has few minutes. His shift ends soon. No time to buy three-pack underwear. Not a moment to waste. As we exit, eyes ogle a box leaving a box.