"Get the fuck out of my way, bozo," I said cheerfully to the security guard standing at the entrance of Wal-Mart as I took off. The dude surprised the hell out of me by actually getting out of the way. Thus I made off with the three watches I snagged from the jewelry section. I cut a mad dash through the parking lot, and caught the OC Transpo bus. Once inside, I hastily showed my transfer to the driver, a stocky middle-aged white woman with a dopey smile. The last thing I wanted to do was hold up the bus, in case someone was after me.
I'm the picture of innocence, at least in the eyes of western society, and quite often it works to my advantage when fooling bozos. I'm five-foot-seven, slender and alabaster-skinned, with short blonde hair streaked with bright pink ( bad dye job that I am going to change soon ) and people say I look a bit like that blonde gal from Battlestar Galactica. The feisty, constantly fighting one, not the seductive female robot. The name is Amy Guillaume and my hobbies include hockey, soccer, kayaking, and relieving the unwary of their excess goods.
"Don't worry about it, sweetie, I don't like to drive off when I see someone running towards me," said the driver, and she smiled pleasantly. I returned her smile, and then the bus made its way through the busy streets of Nepean, on its way to Baseline Station. I simply love the town of Nepean. It's a rather affluent part of the Canadian Capital, and the people are moneyed and usually easy to scam. Got to love them for it, am I right or am I right?
"Thank you ma'am, have a good day," I said to the bus driver as I exited. I got off, then switched buses, catching the 95 bus heading to the east end of Ottawa, where I live. Having switched buses, I sat down and put on my headphones, listening to Pink's classic Cuz I Can. I've been a fan of Pink ever since my high school days and the classics can't be beat. Hell, I even dye my hair pink because I like to emulate her, you know?
"Saw what you did back there," said a rather loud feminine voice, startling me out of my thoughts. I lowered the volume on my head phones, then turned around to see a rather tall, slender young woman casually leaning against the chair behind me. Clad in a brown leather jacket, white blouse, black jeans and boots, this gal looked pretty good. The Hijab on her head framed her lovely brown face beautifully. I blinked, and for a brief moment I thought I was busted, then remembered I was on the bus and whoever she is, this bitch couldn't do shit to me.
"Um, I don't know what you're talking about," I said, and I looked the woman up and down. A look of amusement crept into her lovely face, and I saw mischief in her brown eyes. Whoever this broad was, she had me dead to rights. I'm by no means a newcomer to the game of item acquisition ( it's nicer than saying stealing ) but this gal had me dead to rights and I didn't even sense her. Damn.
"Come on, now, I saw you," Miss Nosy said, and she casually plopped down on the seat right next to mine. I flashed her my most innocent smile, and wondered who this chick was and where she was going with this. I know of every loss prevention officer working at the various stores that I usually hit. Those guys and gals usually go about in casual clothes, pretending to shop while spying on "suspicious" customers. Translation? They follow minorities around the stores, while I make off with all kinds of goodies. They're so stupid it's not even funny.
"Lady, I don't know what you are talking or what you think you saw, and I don't much care," I said, and I turned the volume back up and resumed listening to my music. Miss Nosy apparently didn't seem to be getting the hint because she took out her wallet and flashed me something that looked like a badge, only it was orange, and read Ontario Private Security And Investigative Services, with a picture of the same Hijab-wearing chick, and a name, Salma Al-Buleihi.
"I'm a loss prevention officer," Salma said, and then she flashed me a wicked grin. I swallowed hard, and wondered whether in-store security guards and loss prevention officers had the right to make arrests away from their work sites. My smile vanished, replaced by a sense of dread. Salma was several inches taller than me and kind of, well, hefty, or, rather curvy, though in a good way. Could I take her on? Not without weapons.
"Look, lady, I honestly don't want any trouble," I said, and Salma smiled and shrugged, then leaned real close, like we were two close friends chatting the day away on the bus. Nothing could be further from the truth, but whatever. I braced myself for what was to come, and visions of handcuffs and prison time flashed through my brain. Instead, Salma laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Sweetie, I'm not trying to bust you, I went for a job interview as an L.P. officer with that store and the racist bitch who runs it looked at me in such a way that I knew she wouldn't hire me," Salma said, and I froze, not knowing how to answer. Seriously, as a semi-professional in the item-acquisition field, I've run into my share of weird situations but this one definitely takes the cake. Seriously.
