I was in a hurry, and I swear crap like this only happens when I’m in a hurry. It was Friday afternoon and I was headed to a buddy’s cabin for the weekend. Unsure of the bed situation and knowing that two nights on the floor and a weekend of drinking would likely kill me, I decided to pick up an air mattress.

To save time, I bought the mattress online and opted for in-store pickup. According to Walmart’s website, in-store pickup was quick and hassle free! In reality, in-store pickup was a goddamn nightmare.

I entered the store and followed the signs to the pickup area. Easy enough. However, when I approached the counter, nobody was there. I waited a few minutes. Still, no one. I walked to one of the cashiers standing in front of her lane.

Me: “Would you mind helping me out in in-store pickup?”

Darla: “Only the in-store pickup cashier can do that.”

Me: “Well she seems to be missing. Any idea as to her whereabouts?”

Darla: “She might be finishing her cigarette.”

Me: “Okay.”

I returned to the pickup counter and there was the missing cashier.

“How can I help you?” she asked (she had indeed been finishing her cigarette).

She handed me the mattress, and I threw it in a cart. I put the receipt in my pocket and headed into the store for some snacks.

I went through the self checkout, bagged my snacks and, ready to start the weekend, headed for the door — I made it 3 steps before being stopped by a greeter.

“Sir, I’ll need your receipt.”

Annoyed but compliant, I handed it over. The greeter rummaged through my snack bag marking the receipt as she went.

Anticipating the inevitable question as to why this giant, unbagged air mattress wasn’t on the receipt, I began to pull my in-store pickup receipt from my pocket before she interrupted me.

“Alright, sir, have a good night.”

And it is here where I transitioned from being slightly annoyed to very angry. Because while the greeter successfully inventoried $8 worth of trail mix and Red Vines, she missed the giant $70 mattress sitting unbagged in the front of the cart. And if she missed the mattress, then she wasn’t doing her job. And if she’s not doing her job, then why in the hell are we standing here?

I began to think long and hard about the situation:

Is this even legal? On one hand, she’s an employee. But on the other hand, doesn’t the transfer of goods occur upon purchase? Like aren’t these my items now? Isn’t she technically just stopping me to rummage through my personal belongings? What are her rights? What are Walmart’s rights? Most importantly, what are my rights?

Answers to those important questions and more right now:

The Rights Of A Retailer: Shopkeeper’s Privilege

Shopkeeper’s Privilege is a common law designed to protect retailers from theft. It allows retailers to detain suspected shoplifters. The detainment must occur on store property and the merchant can only hold the suspect for a reasonable amount of time, i.e., until the police arrive.

Can A Retailer Use Shopkeeper’s Privilege To Stop Anyone?

No. The key here is Shopkeeper’s Privilege only applies to suspected shoplifters, so the merchant must have probable cause that the customer has shoplifted. What does probable cause look like?

Although shoplifting laws vary by state, merchants can look for the following steps to establish probable cause:

1. You must see the shoplifter approach your merchandise.
2. You must see the shoplifter select your merchandise.
3. You must see the shoplifter conceal your merchandise.
4. You must maintain continuous observation of the shoplifter.
5. You must see the shoplifter fail to pay for the merchandise.
6. You must approach the shoplifter outside of the store but on store grounds.

The Rights Of The Consumer

Shopkeeper’s Privilege is designed to protect retailers from shoplifting. But what if you’re not a shoplifter?

In the event of a receipt check, Walmart has not seen you conceal and fail to pay for merchandise, because you have not stolen anything. You are innocent of everything other than being randomly selected for a receipt check. So what does this mean for you, the paying customer, when a friendly face in a yellow vest asks for your receipt?

Well, you can do what most of us do and comply, thereby subjecting yourself to a voluntary search. But you can also say “no.” You can say “no thanks.” Hell, you can even say “hell no.”

Receipt checks are voluntary and if you’re not in the mood for one, it’s within your rights to be on your merry way.

What If You’re Prevented From Leaving?: False Imprisonment

If you decline the receipt check and the employee detains you or in any way prevents you from leaving the store, the retailer can be held liable for false imprisonment. False imprisonment is the illegal confinement of an individual against his or her will and is both a civil violation and a crime.

Is This The Case At All Retail Stores?

Some club stores like Costco list receipt checks as a condition of membership within its membership agreement. Refusing to show your receipt at a club store could be terms for membership termination.

Conclusion: Should You Show Your Receipt?

Probably. Listen, is it worth shitting all over a 75 year old retiree making minimum wage just so you can exercise your rights as an American? And even when you’re in a hurry, it’s not like it takes more than 5 seconds, especially when the greeter’s doing a half-assed job.

Additionally, in many cases, employees — who obviously are short on proper training — have attempted to detain customers for refusing to show their receipts. Getting confrontational with a Walmart greeter is not a good look, regardless of who’s right and who’s wrong. And if you are unlawfully detained, then what are you gonna do? Start a legal battle with one of the biggest corporations on the planet?

If you really want to take a stand, then pay a few extra dollars to shop somewhere other than Walmart. I hear Target’s in-store pickup is top notch.

Sources:

Robbins, Ira P., Vilifying the Vigilante: A Narrowed Scope of Citizen’s Arrest (June 16, 2016). Cornell Journal of Law and Public Policy, Vol. 25, No. 3, 2016; American University, WCL Research Paper No. 2016-24. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2796715

Victoria S. Salzmann, Big-Box Bullies Bust Benign Buyer Behavior: Wal-Mart, Get Your Hands Off My Receipt!, 4 Fla. A&M U. L. Rev. (2009).
Available at: http://commons.law.famu.edu/famulawreview/vol4/iss1/2

Legalmatch.com

USLegal.com

I have tremendous news for you, dear reader. I know the holidays are here. I know we’re on the brink of a 4 day weekend. I know there are many things to be excited about right now, but here’s one more:

You’re about to get an exclusive look inside the mind of a man on Thanksgiving.

I know, I know, try to contain yourself. You’ll need your composure as you follow along with this real-life tale about meat sweats, Black Friday Doorbusters, and long naps on the couch in front of out-of-town relatives.

Are you ready? Then let’s do it. Here now is a diary of a man on Thanksgiving.

7:00 AM, Thanksgiving, 2016

I wake up without an alarm. My wife and the girl are still asleep. The house is quiet. I make coffee and christen the holiday cookie creamer I’ve been saving. It does not disappoint. The sun is rising. I am feeling quite festive. I decide to go full Hallmark Movie on the situation. I wrap up in my robe and turn on the fireplace. This is the best I’ll feel all day.

7:30 AM

I grab the laptop and check my fantasy lineups. I love how football has infiltrated the holiday. Nothing brings a family together on the couch in silence like the NFL on Thanksgiving. So traditional. So American.

7:45 AM

The Vikings play at 11:30. I give myself a little pep talk: don’t let the outcome of the game ruin Thanksgiving.

8:30 AM

I decide to forgo breakfast, saving every inch of stomach space for meat, treats, and beer later on.

9:30 AM

I hop in the shower. I get out and am faced with a big decision: sweats or jeans? On one hand, I’ll see a lot of extended family today. I’m an adult now and am probably expected to look presentable.

But on the other hand, I don’t really give a shit. I’d rather be comfortable. I know! I’ll wear my dress sweats! My dress sweats are made of modern, dry-fit material. These are sleek and stylish, very presentable sweats. Nothing like the giant Champion sweats all the dads wore in the 80s. Dress sweats have all the comfort of the 80s dad, but none of the look. The perfect combo.

10:00 AM

I walk downstairs.

Wife: You’re wearing your dress sweats?

Me: I am.

Wife: Your brother wore jeans last year. I think you should wear jeans.

Me: Listen, I’m going to spend the next 6 hours eating and drinking like a medieval lord. Squeezing my big fat ass into a pair of fancy blue jeans won’t disguise that fact.

My wife doesn’t press the issue any further.

11:00 AM

We arrive at my parents. Our daughter falls asleep on the way. I transfer her from the car seat to the Pack ‘n Play. She stays asleep. It’s a holiday miracle.

11:05 AM

I need to catch a buzz before kickoff. I mix a Bloody Mary.

11:30 AM

I’m drunk. This happened earlier than expected. I should have eaten breakfast. Maybe if I sit here and don’t say anything, no one will notice.

12:00 PM

I page through the Black Friday ads. Doors open at 6 tonight? Disgusting. Capitalism has gone too far. This is a holiday. People should be with their families. Thanksgiving day doorbusters are everything that’s wrong with this country, and I for one refuse to…

12:01 PM

Jesus Christ! Look at the price on that iPad! Why, they’re practically giving them away. But do I need one? I do. Until this moment, I had no idea this need existed but am now enlightened. I must have an iPad.

12:30 PM

Dinner time and I am starving. I stack 3,000 calories worth of food on my plate and inhale it in 6 minutes. Then I down a beer.

12:45 PM

I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve eaten too much too quickly. Great Aunt Margaret, still going on about some bluejay that was in her bird feeder, has yet to start her main course. How much longer am I going to have to sit here? And why is it so damn hot around this table?

12:49 PM

I start to meat sweat. My discomfort level is now critical.

12:50 PM

I get up and walk to the bathroom. The cool air outside of the dining room is a welcome relief. I don’t actually have to use the bathroom, so I shut the door and check the score of the Vikings game. It’s tied.

12:55 PM

I return to the table and am too full for beer. I switch to wine.

1:00 PM

The potatoes and bread expand in my gut. I feel my stomach lining stretching around the carbs. I’ll never eat again…

Mom: Who wants pie?

1:01 PM

…unless it’s pie. There’s always room for pie. It’s like my stomach reserves space exclusively for dessert. No matter how much main course I eat, the dessert section remains vacant.

Mom: Pumpkin or french silk?

Me: I’ll have both, mom.

Mom: A little of both, hun?

Me: Nope. Just both.

1:20 PM

I need to lie down.

1:30 PM

I head downstairs because I need to be horizontal and don’t want to occupy a whole couch in the primary sitting area. Also, I prefer to digest alone.

2:00 PM

The girl wakes up from her nap. I’ve feasted far too aggressively to honor any paternal obligations right now. I must pawn her off. I scan the room for the nearest grandparent or great aunt. Someone must bear the burden of my child. They must nurture her and love her while Daddy concentrates on forcing food through his intestinal tract.

2:30 PM

The Vikings lose.

3:00 PM

I’m so damn tired. However, I’m self-conscious about falling asleep in front of my entire family, so I make a valiant effort to demonstrate I’m awake and alert. I continually adjust positions and comment randomly at the TV, “Dumb commercial.”

3:30 PM

My weariness grows too strong to bear. I know I’m about to hard sleep, to ugly sleep — an open-mouthed, heavy breathing sleep that all my family will experience and laugh about for Thanksgivings to come. But I don’t care. In a room full of relatives, I might as well be alone on this earth. Nothing exists besides me and this couch. Nothing at all.

3:35 PM

As I drift off, I hear my aunt from the other room, “Oh look! Target has a doorbuster on the iPad.”

Shit. The word is out. The increase in iPad demand makes me want one even more.

5:00 PM

I wake up in a daze, but one thing is perfectly clear: I must have that iPad. However, eating, drinking, and sleeping all day has left me in a bad place. The thought of hunting down doorbusters in a crowd of deranged soccer moms makes me physically ill. I don’t think I can do it. But I know someone who will.

5:05 PM

I approach my wife. I learn that while I was asleep she compiled a list of “things” she “needs” from Target. My wife worships Target, to the point where over half of our family income exits through her Red Card. This is the first time in our marriage where I see this as a positive. I add the iPad to her shopping list and retreat to the couch for more football.

6:30 PM

My wife returns with the loot. We pack up the girl and head for home, but I can’t wait. I open the iPad on the way.

7:00 PM

I put the iPad on the charger and get the girl ready for bed.

8:00 PM

The girl is down but I’m tired from rocking in a dark room for 40 minutes. I bring the iPad to my nightstand and fall into bed. I fall asleep.

11:00 PM

Fire! Oh, how it burns. My chest rages with the heat of 1,000 infernos. I sit up and realize it’s heartburn. I walk to the sink and spit. Then promptly swallow a handful of TUMS.

11:30 PM

My heartburn subsides. I feel good. I’ve slept most the day so I’m not tired. I look over at my wife, then down at the dog on the foot of the bed. I check the monitor. The girl is sound asleep. I’m at peace with the holiday. I am thankful.

I grab my shiny new iPad from the nightstand. I open a Google Doc and title it Diary. My fingers dance across the keys as if the on-screen keyboard is the only one I’ve ever known. I begin to write:

“I have tremendous news for you, dear reader…

This fall was our 4th annual Guys’ Weekend in Canada. We ditched our wives, kids, and jobs for five GLORIOUS days of fishing, drinking, cursing, and many other manly-man activities. We had zero responsibility and only one rule: NO GIRLZ ALLOWED!

Anyway, the vacation gave me a chance to reflect on friends, fishing, getting old, and life in general. Here now are 7 surprising lessons from the weekend.

Fishing Is Hard

On the second day of the trip, the sun shone, the bite was hot, and four of us ventured out for what became the most pathetic attempt at bass fishing in the history of mankind.

For those who don’t know, bass fishing requires an extra dose of skill and precision. You have to maneuver the boat close to rocks, cast accurately, and retrieve skillfully. For a professional angler, it’s an art. For four schmucks from the suburbs, it is fuckin chaos.

I wish I could share more about this almighty excursion, but our “crew” swore an oath of silence in fear that if details ever emerged, we’d be exiled from our social circle for time eternal.

Day Drinking Gets Better With Age

I enjoyed day drinking in my twenties. But since turning 30, I realized to fully appreciate the activity, you have to earn it. To really enjoy being drunk on a random Monday in August, you need to spend the 30 Mondays prior sitting in a cubicle. Then 1PM rolls around and your equilibrium flips upside down when you realize you’re not halfway through a day at the office, you’re on the lake, with the sun on your back and a beer in your hand.

In your thirties, life is packed with obligations: errands, work, housework, parental tasks, etc. You have to be sober to handle this responsibility, because responsibility when you’re drinking is a nightmare. An afternoon buzz really means the rest of your day is free from all the humdrum horseshit. And that freedom is the only buzz I need.

It’s Nice To Express Myself

I rarely get to say what I mean. Take being a parent for example: you can’t tell a toddler how you really feel, no matter how accurate it may be. You can’t just get down, look her square in the eye and be like, “You know what, Norah? Your behavior right now, it’s fuckin bullshit. Okay? Get it together.”

Or at work? How many times a week do you say, “Sounds good, Janet?” When really there are a thousand other things Janet deserves to hear.

This is why whenever I’m free to use my potty mouth, I do, and also why any time you get 10 guys together in a cabin, there’s more profanity than a trucker’s convention.

There Is A Deep Satisfaction In Eating What You Catch

Hunt or die. That was reality for our early ancestors. There weren’t drive-throughs or supermarkets. Your survival and the survival of everyone you loved hinged on your ability to down a buffalo, and I imagine it was deeply satisfying when you did. So satisfying, in fact, that the thrill of eating your catch still exists today, even after thousand of years of evolution and despite the fact that we’ve all gone soft.

Don’t get me wrong, modern-day food distribution is a godsend — if my family’s survival depended on my hunting prowess, it’d be 2 days before we had to harvest the dog for meat. But once in awhile it’s good to exercise that primal instinct and put your own food on the table.

Dinner Is For Gentlemen

Conversation during Guys’ Weekend isn’t always friendly. There’s a lot of trash talk around who’s caught the most fish, who sucked the most at high school sports, who sucks the most at sports currently, etc.

But breaking bread together seems to bring out the manners. And it’s nice to know that for at least 15 minutes everyday we can stop with the dick jokes and the would-you-rathers and act like proper humans.

I Need To Unplug More Often

My cell service extends only 10 miles into Canada, and thank God for that. Apparently, the one thing that can stop me from mindlessly refreshing Twitter every 6 seconds is AT&T’s outrageous data roaming rates. And let me tell you, strolling through the great outdoors and being able to leave my phone at the cabin was downright liberating. On the big list of all the things I needed a break from, my iPhone was number 1.

Time Flies

It’s been 6 years since the inaugural Guys’ Weekend in Canada — we missed a few years because of out-of-state jobs, having kids, and the Summer of 10,000 Weddings — and, man, have things changed.

It’s frightening how fast you go from a spry twenty-something to full blown adult, so be sure to make time for the good stuff. Because while change is inevitable, some things should stay the same.

Editor’s note: If you’re in the Upper Midwest and looking for an awesome summer vacation, you should absolutely check out True North Outposts. It’s a beautiful resort and the fishing is so good that even we can catch our limit.

Football is here and if history is any indication, I am to spend the next 20 Sundays crushing beer and greasy food, rooting for underachieving fantasy players, and watching the Vikings offense systematically go three-and-out.

Does it matter that watching football, an indoor activity, conflicts with the nicest weather of the year? It does not. Even when my wife drags me from the couch and out to some apple orchard, my mind is still on the game…and my eyes are on my phone, refreshing box scores like my life depends on it.

Now, if this sounds like ridiculous behavior, it’s because it is. I know that. What started as a passionate hobby has mutated into an unhealthy obsession. And as a 31 year old father, I know there are other, more fulfilling things I should be doing.

The problem is I still like football. There are too many good things about it: long touchdowns, last-second comebacks from my fantasy team, and the undying hope that one day the Vikings will be World Champs and my time invested in this miserable franchise will pay off with unimaginable happiness that endures forever and ever, amen.

So, with that in mind, here are some quick tips to consuming football in healthy doses, so not only can you enjoy the game, but the rest of your life as well.

Get up early on Sundays. A great way to spend proportionately less time watching football is to extend the part of the day when football isn’t on. If you’re up at 6:30, you’ll have 5 glorious hours before you need to start setting fantasy lineups.

Be productive. Use the morning to do the things you should probably be doing instead of watching football: exercising, preparing for the work week, spending time with family, getting outdoors, etc. If you can squeeze an entire day of obligations and quality-time into a single morning, then there’s no problem spending the next 10 hours watching football. You deserve it.

Eat a healthy breakfast. I have eaten things on Sundays that would make Andy Reid blush. I’m not proud of it. However, I’ve found that a veggie omelet and a banana in the morning can help me cope with the shame that typically follows that fourth bowl of chili.

Prioritize and plan. A typical NFL week has 5 slates of games (6 if you throw in some shitty London game between the Browns and Jags). That’s 20 hours of televised football per week!

Now, you and I both know not all of that football is good football. So don’t watch it all. Take a look at the schedule and prioritize games based on fantasy relevance or when your hometown squad is playing.

Then make other plans for the games you don’t care to watch. Take your wife out to eat during Thursday night’s Bengals/Texans punt-fest. Take your kid to the park during the 3PM games. Sometimes less football is more football.

Limit drinking to one drink per hour. I have a breaking point, a point of alcohol consumption and when I reach it, I can do absolutely nothing productive for the rest of the day. When this happens in the evening, it’s fine. I just watch TV and go to bed. But when I reach this point at 1PM, it’s miserable.

But this year my strategy is to teeter right along that line. I’ll catch a nice buzz but won’t overdo it. The key is to find that limit. What is that limit? Well, if you read our post on how to get hammered without a hangover, you know that the body can metabolize 1 drink per hour. And since your average football game runs right around 3 hours, you can safely enjoy 3 drinks per game and not end up in beer purgatory for the rest of the day. Not bad!

Don’t buy RedZone channel. RedZone Channel is awesome, and that’s the problem. It makes all football exciting, even football that’s not exciting. Like I don’t give a shit about any Jaguars game. But bring me live to Blake Bortles overthrowing receivers in the end zone 3 times in a row, I could watch that all day. And I do, given the opportunity.

Last week was the first week in 10 years that I didn’t have RedZone Channel, and you know what? It was fine. I didn’t die. I didn’t withdrawal and convulse on the floor in front of my family. I survived. And you can too.

Streamline your fantasy preparation. There is so much fantasy content out there that reading analysis and fidgeting with your lineups can quickly become a full time job. Personally, I spend 90% of every football season refreshing Twitter, waiting for someone to release Jordan Reed’s latest injury report.

But this year I’m following a healthier strategy: streamlining all fantasy preparation into two 30 minute sessions. As a manager, you have two primary responsibilities: 1) submitting waiver claims and 2) setting lineups. These activities require homework on Tuesday evening and Sunday morning (with possibly a quick glance at your roster before Thursday night kickoff). That’s it.

So you can spend all week doing hardcore analysis or you can bookmark your favorite waiver wire and rankings articles — which, if you pick the right ones, will have already incorporated the hardcore analysis — and cram for an hour per week.

Remember fantasy is a game. I’ve won fantasy championships. And I have celebrated those championships like I was out there catching touchdowns myself. But I know those victories have less to do with my football genius and more to do with blind luck — injuries, the team I’m matched up against takes a shit, a play call at the goal line, etc. Fantasy is a game of highs and lows. But a simple understanding that a lot most of it is luck can help keep you grounded.

Realize your season will likely end in disappointment. If you’re in a standard 12-team fantasy league, there is a 92% chance your season ends in disappointment. Your favorite NFL squad? Everything else being equal, they have a mere 3% chance of winning the Super Bowl — and if your franchise is cursed like the Vikings, knock that number down even further.

Of course, anything can happen, no matter how unlikely. This is why we watch and why the relationship with football is worth having. But just know that, statistically speaking, your season will likely end in misery, which is why that relationship needs to be healthy. Enjoy the season, everyone!

Recommended Reading: It’s Tailgating Season!