Tuesday, April 7, 2009

PSA If You Steal...You Suck

Got a phone call Tuesday, (not long after the earthquake that shook us up in Chino Hills) it was my husband telling me that our son's house had been broken into, he was fine but his television and Playstation, (his first ever video game that we had just sent him for his 19th birthday) were gone. Our son is attending the University of Louisville and just gotten both his first house, (rented of course) and first job away from home, (he had worked for The Wine Country for years but this was his own gig). He came home from his first day at work to find that his back door had been kicked in and the television and Playstation were gone. He told us that he thought it had to be kids because both his and his roommate's laptops were out along with DVD's, and other things of value. "They didn't even take the controllers" he told us.

The good news was his roommate's Father had taken out renters insurance so there was a chance that we would recoup some of the cost. Bad news was knowing that a) we were too far away to be of any real comfort and b) our son had to move thousands of miles away, (from super scary Los Angeles mind you) for college just to learn that sometimes people really suck. I felt helpless and heart broken and there was nothing I could really say to make him feel any better, "It is a horrible lesson kid. I wish there were someway to sugar coat it but sadly these things just happen. The trick is to not let those people make you as ugly as they are"....sigh.

So Saturday, right as the Italian White Wine tasting was coming to an end I got another call from my husband Carl, "Jeremy was broken into again" "No Way!" I yelled and slammed my hand down on the desk. "What the f*%# is going on?" Carl said he had just spoken to Jeremy and he was still with the police going over everything so give him about a half and hour and then give him a call. If I felt helpless before I felt handicapped now, I just kept walking around the store, cleaning the trays and glasses from the tasting and all I could do was think of my gentle giant of a son...I wanted to hug him, give him my, "Mom" kisses on his forehead and find some way to soften this second blow.

I finally got Jeremy on the phone, the second he said, "hello" I could tell that he was crushed. "What did they take this time?" I asked. His reply, "Everything Mom, they took everything I had". I stood outside The Wine Country, my cell phone as tight to my face as I could get it, aching to put my arms around him with tears streaming down my face. "I almost want to say forget it, get off the lease and come home" he told me. "You can come home whenever you want, but lets get through this first" I told him.

Both boys are pretty sure they know who did it, a neighbor...very comforting right? Carl got a hold of the roommate's Father, (a lawyer thank goodness) who within two hours got the boys off the lease without penalty and they are looking for a new place to live....problem solved right? Wrong. A kid that is full of hope, promise and belief in people has been changed by some shithead that thought they deserved his stuff more than he did.

If you steal, you suck. If you can find some way to rationalize your crimes you not only suck you are a liar. If you didn't earn it, buy it, win it or were gifted it and you took it, you are a bad person and no better than any other thief....period. If you think it isn't really hurting anyone you're also an idiot...you are hurting people.

We have had people steal from the store and I hate them just as much as I do the people that stole from my son and those that have stolen from me. You think you are not affecting the cost of everything when you steal?! When you take something like a bottle of wine, (because all scum need to drink Silver Oak Cabernet) the store suffers loss, and just what will a store have to do to make up for that loss...yea that is right jerk wad, they have to raise prices to make up for it.
I hate this feeling, I hate that people do this to each other and if you steal...I hate you.

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