Not the lesson the nuns had in mind

Quick trip to the supermarket at lunch time to buy some staples.

When I reached the car and unloaded my cart I disovered the birthday card I'd picked out for my niece at the bottom of the cart.  A glance at the receipt confirmed what I was afraid of.  The clerk hadn't rung it up.

I'd shoplifted the card.

For a second or two I was tempted to let myself off with a stern warning and a half-hearted promise to pay up next time.  But I knew I'd feel crummy, not to mention cheap, driving away with a stolen $2.69 birthday card.  Nevermind the bad karma I might pass along to my niece.

Damn.

I headed back inside to do the right thing, knowing the whole way that doing it would not make me feel good.  I wouldn't feel honest.  I wouldn't feel righteous.  I wouldn't even feel at ease with my conscience since I was already feeling guilty for having even considered not paying for it.

I was pretty sure, too, that in the time I'd been outside the store, the place had gotten so busy that I wouldn't find a clear path to a register, I'd be stuck standing in line behind twelve women buying a week's worth of groceries each, all of them planning to pay with a check.

I lucked out.   There was only one person in line at the express checkout and, amazingly, she was several items under the twelve items limit.  I was in and out in no time, the card truly and legally mine.

But I'd been right.  Doing the honest thing hadn't made me feel good.  All I felt was annoyed with myself.

I was annoyed with myself for not having put the card up for the first clerk to see it to begin with.

I was annoyed with myself for not giving in to the temptation to leave without paying for it.

I was annoyed with myself for being tempted to leave without paying for it.

And I was annoyed with myself for feeling grumpy about doing the right thing.

I don't go to confession, haven't since I was a kid, but I wonder, if I did, what would I tell the priest?  What part of the above was a sin?  Would he absolve me of any of it since I don't feel remorse just annoyance?  What would be my penance?  Five Hail Marys and an Our Father, probably.

This is not what the nuns promised would happen when they taught us to listen to our consciences.

My niece better love her card.

Comments

[Rasselas]

Doing the right, moral and/or ethical thing sucks. It's often hard work. It's occasionally boring. It's very often humiliating and embarrassing.

[mac magillicuddy]

I remember reading this somewhere: "It's never the right thing to do unless you feel miserable."

[alex]

If it's any consolation, it's quite apparent you're an altruist as opposed to an idealist, and if there were such a thing as karma, by rights you just bought yourself protection against E coli from the meat department. Expires 04/30/05.

[Kevin Hayden]

Sin? Whatever happened to moral relativity? Didn't you get the memo?

Personally, I would have noted the price or made a copy of the back of the card and paid for it at the next shopping trip to that store. As you did nothing wrong intentionally, and you weighed alternative options in a logical way, there's no sin committed that I can see, though I have a 'guilt' default wired into my system, too, so I understand.

[Michael G]

"Mannion" sounds Irish. The Irish were born guilt ridden. It's just the way you're wired. Don't worry about it.

[pareader]

Lance: This is offered as the flip side of your coin.

I found myself in generally similar circumstances this past Saturday, with the added moral kicker of having my nearly 3-year old son in tow. After completing a harrowing grocery visit, during which a cornucopia of consumer products was dropped into the basket by the boy and removed by his increasingly impatient father, my son and I reached our car. I placed him in the car seat, loaded the bags into the trunk and there it was - 1/2 a pound of sliced cheddar, wanting only to be united with the 1 1/2 pound of growth hormone free ground beef already in the trunk and ready for grilling, staring up at me from the shopping cart.

The conflict was sharply drawn, even more so than it ever had been for me in the past, since it was the first time that I was confronted so starkly with "what I should do v. what I can justify doing" while in the company of my progeny. I had an example to set, after all.

Sorry to say, I weaseled my way out of going back into the store. Having toiled for a few years in the deli business and having a sense of pricing and margins, I calculated the loss to the retailer for the inadvertent failure to place that last deli item on the belt. And I promised myself next time to purchase something that I otherwise would not, an item priced, I am certain, so scandalously high that the loss of the cheddar would be more than offset.

Guided by the pleas of the boy made just ten minutes before, I determined that my penance would take the form of the "Clifford the Big Red Dog" melamine dinner plate and cereal bowl that had entered, and quickly exited, our cart several times back in the store.

Was I saddened by not having gone back in to pay for the cheese?. You bet I was. Did it feel worse that it occurred when my son was with me? Immeasurably so.

A cautionary tale? Perhaps. I don't mean to frighten you from over here on the dark side. But don't lose sight of the fact that you're in the light. There are those of us who wish we would have an easier time finding the strength to join you from time to time.

And in my case, the nuns had it right.

[Linkmeister]

Another flip side for you: last night out of sheer sloth and a lack of appealing items in the larder, I drove down the hill to a Carl's Jr. to get a couple of burgers for dinner. Paid my $8.20 for two sandwiches, medium fries and fried zucchini, drove a mile back up the hill, put the sack on the hot tray, and opened it half-an-hour later. Aha! Only one sandwich in the bag! So I cut it in half and Mom and I split it; it was just too much trouble to go back down the hill to grumble.

I wonder how (or if) they balanced the register.