“Are you quite comfortable?” the therapist asked as I tried to settle into the Lazy-boy recliner in his office.   The lights in the room were dimmed and the temperature on the thermostat indicated it was about seventy one degrees.  There was a pitcher of ice water on a nearby table and a tall drinking glass already filled sitting on a coaster.   Elevator type music was playing so low that it was almost inaudible.  This was to help me relax I guess.  I was pretty comfortable but not relaxed.  I should not be here.  This is for crazy people and besides that, none of this was my fault.  I was simply trying to make a purchase.  

It all started just a few days ago.   It seems like a dream now, or rather a nightmare.  

I decided to do some clothes shopping.  It was pretty cold so I was well layered.  Besides my t-shirt and shirt, I also had on a hoodie and a leather jacket along with my gloves, scarf and cap.  Of course I was wearing jeans, socks and sneakers.  Nothing weird or conspicuous for this time of year.   As I entered the automatic door of the store I could not help notice the sign warning that there was zero tolerance for shoplifters.  The notice explained that not only would the store prosecute to the fullest extent of the law but the shoplifter would be responsible to pay for the stolen merchandise.  “Good,” I thought to myself as I grabbed a cart, “maybe this will help keep the cost of merchandise down”.  The sign went on to explain that some of the store’s policies had changed to help control the cost of theft and there was also an apology for any inconvenience to their customers.   

Without giving this any further thought I proceeded into the store which was very well heated.  As I immediately felt the impact of the change in temperature I wished that I had left some of my outer-wear in the car.  I was parked pretty close and could have tolerated the cold as I made a dash for the store.  No big deal.  I’ll just take off a couple of layers and use the cart to carry them.   After trying on a few items I headed for the checkout line.  This store had one of those self service checkouts for when you have just a few items.  I rarely have success with these devices so I went to a regular line.  I was happy to see one with no one waiting and headed straight for it.  As a matter of fact the cashier was posted like a sentry apparently waiting for someone to check out.  “Looks like you’re waiting for me” I said cheerfully.  She barely smiled as she made her way around to her side of the register.  I pulled my few items out of the cart and set them on the conveyor belt.  Then I set one of those red plastic bars down so the next person after me could set his purchase down without mixing them with mine.  I was leaning my arms and elbows on the push handle of the cart as I inched my way up toward the part where you swipe your card.  That’s when things started to go wrong. 

The cashier had scanned my items and asked me about my outer-wear that I had set in the cart.  “Oh those are mine” I answered non-chalantly.  She looked at me with an annoyed expression and told me to place them on the counter.  I thought this was strange and was about to ask why since they were mine.  Then I remembered the sign on the front door and realized that this is part of their anti-theft program.  It’s sort of like laying your travel items on the scanner at the airport.  Okay I thought, I can do my part to prevent shop-lifting.  So I set my leather jacket, gloves, scarf and cap on the counter so the cashier could make sure they were not stolen. 

To my astonishment the computer was showing prices for my clothing!  Even though there were no tags on my stuff, the scanner was calculating the cost of the items.  Alright, wow, that’s really something.  It knows what I paid for my clothes even though I didn’t buy them here.  I guess this is how they verify that it didn’t just come out of their store.   A little intrusive I thought but I’ll play along.   As she scanned the last item she presented me a total and asked me if I was paying with the store card.    The total showed almost five hundred dollars and I had only purchased about fifty bucks worth of merchandise.   “What’s going on?” I demanded trying unsuccessfully to keep my cool.    “All but these three items are what I was wearing when I got here.  You can’t charge me for them!”    The cashier responded “I see.  Well if you’ll just present your receipts for these items to the return desk I’m sure they will be able to help you”.    

I decided that I must have entered the twilight zone or perhaps I was asleep having a bad dream.  “What do you mean receipts?  Who carries around receipts for everything they own? I’m surprised that you didn’t try to charge me for what I have on my body!”   The cashier looked at me with a guilty look on her face and I could see that she was now realizing what lunacy she was putting me through.  “Oh sir, you’re right”.    Now we were getting somewhere.  “Not a problem” I replied “just get me the proper total and we’ll forget the whole thing.”  I was anxious to get out of there now and wanted to get home and go back to bed so I could wake up.  This time she pointed the hand-held scanner directly at me and the total on the display went up another almost two hundred bucks.   “Your new total is...” and she gave me the amount.  “Thank you for catching that” she said.  I could have lost my job for missing the rest of your items.  “Do you mean to tell me that you just charged me for what I’m wearing”, I asked in a tone of incredulity.   She just grinned at me with that same look she’d given me earlier.   

That’s when I lost it and that’s what landed me on this couch.   In a split second and before the cashier could say anymore, I removed every stitch of clothes I was wearing and set it all on the counter.  I told her I would like to open a charge account so I could save ten percent on my purchase and that I prefer plastic bags over paper.    Apparently there was a button under the counter that she pressed to summon security.   Two guys ran over to me and lifted me under the arms and carried me to their office while I kicked my legs in the air yelling and screaming for the store manager and threatening to sue them.  

The doctor was writing all this down on his note pad as I finished telling him of my fantastic ordeal.  Then he said, “See you tomorrow”.  I waited for him to give me some feedback but he said nothing.   I want out of here but see no chance to just walk out considering the police brought me here.  Just when I think all hope is lost I see a sign on the desk saying “patients not properly dressed will be removed from the premises”.   Slowly, I slipped off my shoes, then my socks, then my pants....