STANDING at the self-serve till in Primark, I feel a buzz of excitement as I casually start scanning the t-shirts and dresses I plan to wear on my summer holiday this year.
Buried amongst them and out of plain sight is a swimsuit and two t-shirts but I have absolutely no intention of paying for them.
Zoe Walters is hooked on shoplifting – despite the fact she can afford the items she steals[/caption]
Zoe says she impulsively shoplifts from shops like Primark ‘out of greed not need’[/caption]
I’ve been doing this on a weekly basis since I booked my holiday to Portugal earlier this year.
On one level I feel very guilty, stealing is wrong but it feels like a compulsion that makes me feel alive.
Not only do I get a buzz while I’m stealing, but when I put on the swimsuit to stroll down to the beach next month, I’ll feel another thrill.
I don’t steal because I’m broke – I earn a decent wage and can afford the clothes – I do it out of excitement and greed.
I feel it has turned into an addiction.
I’ve been shoplifting for the past five years and if I add up the price of all the items I’ve swiped, it totals around £20,000 – or £10 a day.
I’m the last person you’d think is a thief. I work as an estate agent and I’ve been married for 14 years. I don’t have kids myself but I adore my seven godchildren and I volunteer for a homeless charity.
My taste for petty thieving started as a teenager, when I’d help myself to the odd lipstick from Boots and a photo frame from a local card shop.
I’d dabble in shoplifting if I’d spent all my £10 a week pocket money, but it was rare.
For years I stayed on the straight and narrow because I had money, socialised constantly, and loved going to the gym. My life was exciting enough.
My shoplifting addiction began completely out of the blue during the Covid 19 pandemic.
I’m an extrovert, and the isolation of not working and being in the company of only my husband John, 46, took its toll.
Ironically, he works in security at a shopping centre near our four-bed home in a leafy part of Manchester but he had no idea that he’d soon be living under the same roof as a seasoned thief.
It was in April 2020 when I stole a block of cheese from Tesco.
I’ve no idea what came over me – I’d filled my basket and started putting the overflow into my tote bag as I browsed the aisles with the intention of paying at the checkout.
But when I reached the tills, I paid for everything else except the cheddar.
I’d acted on impulse and whilst I felt prickled with shame, I also felt strangely excited about what I’d just done.
It gave me something else to think about other than how miserable and lonely I felt.
During my next trip to the supermarket I did it again and it has continued from there.
I swore to myself that I’d stop once lockdown ended and life was back to normal but the exact opposite has happened.
Five years later I feel ashamed to say I’m addicted – I steal from everywhere, on a daily basis.
‘I feel guilty’
I help myself to face creams and nail varnishes on cosmetic stands and food essentials in big supermarkets.
Stealing a candle from Primark for the first time two years ago I felt no other buzz like it.
I can’t stop. Half of my summer holiday wardrobe is ‘free’ thanks to Primark.
I would never steal from a small independent shop because they don’t have the big profits that chains do.
Zoe slips items in her bag at self-scanning checkouts in high street stores[/caption]
I never hide items, my stealing could be taken for being accidental.
It’s a case of ‘forgetting’ to scan everything at the tills and I always make a purchase. If I was confronted I could easily pretend I’d made a mistake and got in a muddle.
If I buy a bunch of flowers I put two in my basket, but scan only one at the self scanning checkout.
And I also make sure I’ve got a basket full of items.
I wasn’t surprised when I read recently that £2.2billion a year is lost in the UK to shoplifting or that it costs Primark more than it pays in rates.
It’s an alarming number yet I’m not alone in my friendship group in contributing to the losses.
I’ve confessed my addiction to a couple of friends – ordinary women like me – and half of them admit they shoplift too.
Even the ones you’d never suspect, which normalises what I do.
I operate on a policy of plausible deniability – so I can easily pretend it’s a mistake and I got in a muddle.
Zoe Walters*
Years ago a friend told me she was bored with her ordinary life and that she was either going to take up shoplifting or have an affair – I was shocked.
But now I understand where she was coming from, and I will always be a loyal wife.
I would never tell my husband – he’d be livid – and I was mortified to almost be caught by my mum recently.
We’d been to Primark and among the items I didn’t scan was a red dress she wanted.
Later, after trying it on, she changed her mind and asked for the receipt to take it back for a refund.
Terrified of shoulder tap
I had to feign surprise as I looked at the receipt, claiming that it must not have scanned at the till.
I told her I’d take it back – but I sold it on Vinted instead.
I felt ashamed because I know how upset my mum would be if she knew the truth.
And I live in fear of being caught in the act.
That tap on my shoulder is what I dread more than anything because the thought of what might happen if I was prosecuted is horrendous.
However, like with any addiction the buzz outweighs the risks and for now I’ll carry on.
- Zoe Walters is not her real name
