Cleanup in aisle 12. Cleanup in aisle 5. Cleanup in every damn aisle. I swear they hired some kid to just walk round the store dropping shit left right and all over. One day I was gonna catch him and do clean up on HIM. So I bought cameras. I used my store discount, I’m not dumb. Government pension and minimum wage don’t stretch far, so I waited til 20% Friday and swooped. Five at first, then one or two more as my budget allowed. Told the sales clerk I didn’t feel safe at home, they don’t give a shit, wouldn’t care if I was killed, just ring em up and “have a nice day” The first five I took a while getting placed. I have my cleaning trolley so duct tape and scissors weren’t hard to hide, it was getting it right. Watching on my phone that first day I realised I couldn’t see jack. I had to think again. I watched crime drama, CSI, NCIS, NYP whatever the fuck, got ideas, got good. Now I had surveillance. In grocery I was in the eggs, in toiletries in an empty shampoo bottle, the messy cleanup zones. I just had to wait. That first Friday I’m working late. The store is busy and I catch a little toe rag filling his boots with fancy coffee. He tells me to fuck off, and I’m not allowed to hit the customers, so I gotta call security. Mack’s a big guy, serious, reads in the break room, you know, silent type. He’s dubious, when I come up to his desk, I guess he sees some old granny catching kid criminals, but he goes and gets him and I’m right. He looks impressed. Saturday round lunch some guy slipping packaged ham under his waistband, his fat gut is the same colour as the meat. Mack brings him in. And the woman trying lipstick then popping it up her wizards sleeve, if you get me. He couldn’t quite believe that one, and had to get confirmation from the police before he can thank me. I laugh. He blushes. Wants to buy me a coffee. I can’t drink caffeine, not at my age, I’m in the bathroom enough as it is. He says him neither, not since the heart op at 65. We go for decaf.