The other week I went to a certain tech store– you know the one where they like to call themselves Geniuses, which, the nerve of that place. The only person who should be allowed to announce themselves a Genius is Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, as far as I am concerned. Anyway, I went in there to pick up a case for my tablet that I had ordered ahead of time. As per usual in Geniusland, it was packed like a goddamn beehive. I found someone who could help me, told them I was there to pick something up, they went in the back, and I waited. I stood off to the side, looking around at nothing in particular. Almost immediately, I noticed this man who was walking around, and the way he was doing it seemed weird to me. It was subtle, but the thing that I noticed about him was that he wasn’t really being mesmerized by any of the displays of shiny things to play with on the tables. Rather, he was strolling around, his eyes scanning the room. Back and forth, he looked. Not like he had lost track of his honey. Like he was making note of people. Scan, scan, scan, back and forth. Hmmm, I thought. I wonder if that dude is up to something. So I said, to some rando standing next to me, who happened to be a Genius: “Hmmm, I wonder if that dude is up to something.” And the Genius said “what dude?” and I said “the dude in the orange shirt.” And as I was saying the dude in the orange shirt, I shit you not, the dude in the orange shirt walked to the back of the store near where the Genius and I were standing, took a box of something (fancy headphones, maybe?) and started to make his way to the front, quickly but not frantically. “I think he’s stealing that.” The Genius says “where?” and I say “the dude in the orange shirt walking toward the door” and the Genius says “I don’t see him.” And boom, Orange Shirt walked right out the door. No sooner had he done this, but about 10 seconds later, another dude who I am guessing was a plainclothes security person, had followed him out and caught Orange Shirt by the scruff of his shirt and steered his rumpus back into the store. This scruff-grabber kept a hold of this guy from the sidewalk outside, through the length of the store and into the back staff area. From the moment I said “hmmm, I wonder if that dude is up to something” to him taking the item out to him getting dragged back in and into the back, not one other person crammed into that store seemed to notice a thing, even the Genius next to me. It was like some shit out of the Matrix happened and I felt like I was the only one who saw it.
I think this means one or more of the following things:
- I am Sherlock Holmes
- I dreamed the whole thing because my regular life is too damn boring*
- Crimes are going down two feet away from us at all times but we are all a bunch of distracted bing bongs too busy looking at shiny objects
- The dude next to me was clearly not a Genius (or maybe just colorblind) because he could not see that bright orange shirt
- I feel like wearing a bright orange shirt while committing theft in the middle of 200 sardines is a bad idea
This song is too romantic for this story, but it’s called Orange Shirt and it’s a jam, so deal with it.