Caught Shoplifting at the Wal-Mart

Of all the places to practice my sleight-of-hand movements, Wal-Mart would not be on the top of my list. I’ve resisted the temptation at the Apple Store, Toys-R-Us, and Old Navy. Don’t misunderstand me: I’m good enough to steal if I really wanted to. Card tricks and larceny are close cousins because they both involve misdirection (I’ll leave out the details of the time my brother David and I were caught stealing Star Wars guys at Zayre, the offense that had my mother forcing us on our knees reciting Hail Marys and Our Fathers to avoid eternal damnation). No criminal behavior for me, and I limited my powers to actions that end with the phrase, “Is this your card?” So to be accused of a crime I didn’t commit chaps me.

Kristie and I have been riding around on our bikes. Wiesbaden is a great biking city, and we are learning our way around. However, we do not have a bike lock here because our house shipment still has not arrived. We decided to go to the German Wal-Mart to buy one. Kristie stayed outside with the bikes and I went in. While in the bike aisle, I bought a front light for Kristie’s bike, as it is the law here to have a light on both sides of the bike. The very unhappy cashier checked me out and handed me my goods (I remember the clerks in the stateside Wal-Marts to be a bit more chipper). I asked her if she had scissors to cut the binding on the lock so we can use it. She looked at me strangely, and said no. I said goodbye in german (one of the ten phrases I know), and put them in my backpack and left. Outside, we locked the bikes and went back inside so Kristie could see what it looks like in the store. She bought a few things, and we checked out again, this time to a different clerk. As we left the checkstand, Kristie set off the alarm. Our clerk made Kristie remove the bag and go through again, and realized it was something in the bag. We removed the light and receipt, and showed her. She looked skeptical. She called the first clerk on the phone (her name was on the receipt) and asked, what I can assume to be something like:

“Did you sell this guy a bike light?”
“Who?”
“Him. This guy in tight bike shorts and helmet hair.” (At this point, I waved to her sitting three aisles away. Surely my cheesy grin would resurrect her memory.)
“No!”
“OK, thanks for your help. He is a filthy American thief.”

Our clerk turns to me, takes the light and receipt, and calls the manager. She has us wait to the side. The manager comes and those two get in a rapid discussion of my crime. I am helpless. He says that he doesn’t speak much english, so we go to another person. They talk and decide that we are free to go. I was angry, and wanted to lodge a complaint about the rudeness of that woman. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the german word for 1.) Rudeness 2.) Complaint 3.) Lodge. The best I could do is say, “Das voman ist bad” (using my heavily stereotyped accent). He said, “Yes, she is stressed.”

I realize right now that bad in german means water or pool. Hardly the insult that I was looking for.

Can the Size of One's Language Be Measured?

Earlier today, I tried to ask one of the gate guards a question about the whereabouts of an office on base. He smiled and said, “I’m sorry, my english is very small.”

My First German Conversation

I’m sitting at a cafe in the downtown area. I’ve just had my first conversation in German. Here it is:

(waitress approaches)

Me: Guten Tag.
Her: Hallo.
Me: Ein cappuccino, bitte.
Her: Ja.
Me: Danke.

(waitress leaves)

It’s 7 pm, and a bit late for an espresso drink. However, my german cannot grasp how to order a decaf double short latte. I’ll be up all night, so at least I’ll have the time to learn it.