Supermarket sweep
An unanticipated side-effect of parenting has turned out to be a money-saver, says Sophie White, who realises the downside is the potential cost to her reputation
When you have kids, you know that life will change. There are enough books and random well-meaning but irritating strangers lined up to tell you as much.
“Sleep now,” they hiss upon seeing your burgeoning bump, “because after that baby comes, you’ll never sleep again” they finish with obvious, lip-smacking relish.
Most of the expected unpleasant side-effects of children are pretty well documented: tantrums, nappies, Peppa Pig — must Daddy Pig be quite so scrotum-like? However, in the early days of new motherhood I discovered a slightly more positive one: free stuff.
OK, ‘free stuff ’ might be putting too generous a spin on things here. The stuff was not free as such, but rather it was stuff that I’d put in the pram while shopping, then forget — legitimately forget — to pay for.
I blame the sleep-deprivation, it compromises one’s faculties. Last week, I was answering security questions on the phone to the bank, and I gave my own birthday incorrectly. Twice. It’s not surprising that I get to the supermarket checkout and neglect to remember the pineapple stored under the pram.
Sadly, over time, the ‘legitimately forgetting’ began a subtle transformation, until last month I found myself, well, legit shoplifting. In my defence, it was not premeditated. It was born out of an act of desperation.
I was navigating the supermarket with two belligerent children whose tolerance for the
“If I can’t remember my birthday, what chance do I have of remembering my wallet?”
expedition was only conditional on a multi-pack of mini bags of jelly sweets, which would be dispensed once the shopping was completed.
When I got to the till, I realised I’d forgotten my wallet. Of course I had. If I can’t remember my birthday, what chance do I have of remembering my wallet? I pleaded with the manager to let me pay with my card number, but to no avail.
My kids were starting to lose their shit, as it became clear the jellies would not be coming with us. What’s more, given that I had just done a shop with two kids in tow, embarrassingly, much of the shopping that I was now unable to pay for, was half devoured.
Shame-faced and with my kids providing a wall of screaming as a soundtrack, I started to hand over the various items. Desperation growing, I attempted to tip some of the mini jellies into my bag, knowing I’d need something to buy the kids off with. It was a low moment. Full-blown shoplifting in full view of the manager. I would be back to pay, I reasoned, as he glared at me. We left the shop, I paid the children to shut up with my ill-gotten jelly sweets and went home to this lovely chilli. Heist hunger is real.