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I have been sitting on an issue that has had my brain a mess and I didn’t think until now to get your take. Maybe because I fear you would side with, or maybe because it is too multifaceted to really discuss. In the end, I decided to write about it because this community means the world to me and I’d hate to let a little hiccup tarnish my view on it, or on people’s views of me.
First off, I would like to say that I am no Mother Teresa. I stole when I was a kid. A lot (sorry, mom). My best friend at the time was a girl who had moved from the city to the burbs and for some reason still unknown to me, she befriended me first. She immediately became the most popular girl in school and, by proximity, I became one too. She was much more “mature” than the rest of us girls so I always felt like I was rushing to catch up. C had boyfriends that were older, parents that were divorced, and a house that was bigger and grander than any of my other friends. Her older sister smoked cigarettes and I remember the day we sat out back of their large house, under the stairwell, while they pressured me to try my first cigarette. It was not my finest moment, and I certainly didn’t look cool. But I am getting off track…
C also taught me how to steal. She was used to being sneaky (escaping her big home to go out with boys at night took some mad skill), I was not. I remember the time when her mom dropped us off at the mall. These were the days of Z Cavaricci’s and IOU sweatshirts and to be anyone who is anyone you had to have them. Both brands were expensive and my babysitting money was precious to me. I never thought much about brand names, but hanging with C meant I needed to up my game. I used to borrow C’s clothes but, while in the mall that day, she decided it was time for me to have my own pair of Cavs. We found our way to Merry Go Round, the hottest store in the mall, and picked a pair that she thought would look good on me. C made sure there were no tags that would set the alarm off, then rolled them up, put them in my arms, and pushed me out the open doors to the mall. I was shocked when nobody came yelling and screaming and so I followed her instructions, walked to the bathroom in the food court, and waited in a stall for her to meet me. Those few minutes seemed like a lifetime while I played out all the things that could possibly be taking her sooooo long (360 seconds?), the worst being that she had been caught. But she wasn’t. A few minutes later she strolled in, knocked on the door, and I opened it to her Cheshire cat smile. We had gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel good. Continue reading “When is a Loophole or Hack Immoral? And Can It Be Considered Theft?? Asking for a friend…”