Authority Is So Much More Frightening as a Child

When I was four, my dad took me to the mall to do some last minute Christmas shopping for my mother. While he browsed through the women's clothing that, no matter how carefully he selected, she would inevitably exchange, I amused myself by crawling under the racks to hide.

Concealed behind pants, I immediately popped out and ran back to my dad's side once the store made an announcement to please proceed to the register as they would be closing in ten minutes. He continued looking at an assortment of puffy sweaters, so I agitatedly tugged at him to finish. He said he would finish up soon, yet I began to panic since his pace suggested he would not wrap it up before the store closed in TEN MINUTES.

Despite my prodding, he continued examining the clothing long enough for a more urgent FIVE MINUTE warning to be delivered. By this point, all of the other shoppers had either exited or were paying at the register. FIVE MINUTES, I repeated anxiously, which my dad again dismissed. Already on the verge of tears, I then spotted them starting to pull down the caged door to close for the night, prompting me to start bawling.

"No, no! Don't lock us in!" I screamed. A concerned employee came to my side. Amidst my tears, I explained that we had five minutes to get out of the store, but my dad wasn't even hurrying, and now we were going to be stuck there. I honestly believed that we would be locked in the mall overnight. The woman patted my head and laughed, promising they wouldn't be trapping us.

Finally we went to the register where my dad purchased some questionable holiday sweaters. "Do you need a gift receipt?" I may have only been four and dumb enough to think a store would imprison a kid overnight, but even I knew that that was going to be necessary.