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Where are you Batman?

Saturday night I found myself wishing there really were masked heroes cruising the streets to protect us. My boyfriend and I went to Wal-Mart on Saturday night about 10 PM to get groceries. We normally go on Sunday, but I wanted to get it over with, so we went after going to watch Meet the Spartans (which was pretty funny, by the way). We went to the self checkout because I like to bag my own groceries. As we were checking out, I realized we forgot marinara sauce, so I sent my boyfriend back to get it. We had agreed to split the groceries, so I proceeded with my portion. I finished with the stuff I was going to buy, and he still wasn't back. A man was waiting in line behind me, and I noticed he only had a few items, so I let him go, and I waited. I called my boyfriend, and he was still looking. When he finally got back (still with no marinara--just like a man), the man in front of me was still checking out. That's when it hit me. He was buying an item that cost less than a dollar--a cookie, a candy bar, etc--and getting $100 cash back, which is the max. He had at least a half dozen items in his hand. His friend was at another self checkout doing the same thing. Now, I may be deliriously paranoid, but I just can't fathom doing that if that is your debit card. If you needed money, you'd go to an ATM. And who needs a grand at 10 PM on Saturday night anyway? Drug dealers, maybe? So, I went to find a manager. The guy I got was not a manager, and he told me there was nothing they could do. I asked if they could at least ID the guys and make sure the cards they were using were theirs, and he said that, because it was at the self checkout, no, they couldn't. I was appalled. We left to go outside, and I started to cry. I know it sounds stupid, but I felt so damn worthless. If that were your debit card, wouldn't you want someone to do something?! I saw a security guard outside, and I approached him. He, too, said there was nothing he could do. I saw the two men leaving the store, so I basically trotted away from the security guard so as not to bring attention to the fact that I was reckless eyeballing as my beau would say. And then they started coming toward us. I almost shit my pants. I pulled out my gun and tried to nonchalantly put my groceries in the truck. I almost had a stroke when they walked past us and got in their car. Well, I say it was their car, but I highly doubt it was. It was a new car, and, no, I can't recall exactly what. It may have been a Corolla or a Passat, but it was definitely new--brand new, and it was not a black man's car. It was more like a grandma's car. I don't mean to sound racist at all, but I've never seen a black man in a car like that. Not to mention the fact that the tag was from Michigan. That shit was SO stolen! All of it! The debit cards, the car, everything. The clothes they had on were probably bought with stolen money! I was so mad I called 911 and gave them the tag number. They said they'd put out a lookout for the car, but I doubt anything ever came of it. I just sat there feeling so worthless and helpless. If that were my money, I'd want someone to do something. I know it sounds so stupid, but I just had this feeling. My mom says I have a great intuition about those things--that I should trust my gut. And, I just KNEW something was awry. Maybe I was wrong, and I probably didn't help anything, but I just knew I'd want someone to do it for me.

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