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Stealing Green Beans and Other Grade School Shenanigans

W hen I was in pre-school I organized a green bean racket. The other kids hated green beans, (and most other veggies), and preferred to dine exclusively on calorie-laden brownies, cookies, hot dogs, and chicken nuggets. Fat little fuckers.

In any case, I knew if I had any hopes of fitting into my bright red party dress for my fourth birthday party, I would need to cut down on the junk food. The constant pressure of trying to get into an Ivy League school becoming a doctor, and finding the perfect wealthy Indian husband was already starting to get to me, (although I had a sneaking suspicion that none of that sounded remotely fun). And I knew it would never happen if I didn’t shape up soon. So I traded all of my food for green beans, (they have tons of fiber, which just so happens to be excellent for weight control), which for some odd reason were served every day at school.

Everything was going well, until one day when this little girl named Candy, refused to give me her green beans. If she was also on a diet I would have been totally supportive, but I knew she was just trying to sabotage me. And besides, she always handed over green beans before with no problem.

“Why won’t you give me your beans?” I demanded.

“I am going to eat my vegetables today. My mom said they’re good for me.”

“What the fuck does your mom know? She’s a hot mess.” Oops. Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean for it to come out; it just did. Talk about embarrassing. But it wasn’t like I was lying; her mom really was a hot mess.

“You’re so mean!” She started bawling. “I’m never giving you my beans again.”

Now I had a fucking crybaby on my hands. I might as well have a huge siren over my head. As I watched her cry, I started to feel a little bad. Maybe she was trying to eat healthier. But then again it’s a dog eat dog world out there. I gotta get what I can. Our teacher quickly came over to intervene.

“What is going on here?”

“She tried to steal my green beans and she called my mom fat!”

“Reshma, how many times do I have to tell you to eat your own food? And you cannot make fun of other people’s parents!”

Crap. Must think fast. I knew was a looooong way from being a grown-up, but I was almost a teenager. And teenagers know everything. If I were a teen, what would I say?

“Listen if I’m going to be head cheerleader in high school I have to start working on my bitchiness now.”

“Go to the corner!”

I guess that was the wrong answer. I thought for sure the teacher would say something like “Oh well that makes complete sense Reshma.” But that was not to be the case.

I needed to get out of this mess ASAP. I thought back to the time my mom made me return the Smurfette pin I had stolen from the local Hallmark store. It wasn’t like I had planned on stealing. But Smurfette looked so desperate to get out of the Hallmark store after the Gargamel pin made a pass at her. I was with my friend Danika and her mom, and I didn’t want to bother them with the trivialities of buying me something. So I slid the pin into my pocket assuming no one would notice.

Unfortunately, my mom did notice when I proudly pinned the Smurfette to the front of my new London Fog winter coat the next day.

“Where did you get that pin?” she asked.

“My friend gave it to me.”

“Who?”

“Um… Woody Woodpecker.”

“Really? And did you see Woody yesterday when you were with Danika?”

“Yep!”

I don’t know what gave it away, but after my mom got off the phone with Danika’s mom, she announced we were going back to the Hallmark store to return the pin.

“I know what you did, and you are going right back to the store and apologizing to the manager. I didn’t raise you to be a thief. Put your coat on.”

“What?! How could you do this to me?!”

Tears started streaming down my face. Imagine my chagrin years later when my little sister Laila decided to steal those furry teddy bears from A.C. Moore craft store and my mom laughed it off. My sister didn’t have to go back to the manager with her tail between her legs like I did.

I took Smurfette off my jacket and looked down lovingly at her for what would be the last time.

“I’m sorry Smurfette!” I whispered in between my tears. “If Gargamel tries anything kick him in the balls.” And then for added effect, I yelled “Mom is going to pay for this!”

When we got to the store, I slinked out of the car, my head hanging in embarrassment. As we walked in, I hid behind my mom hoping no one would notice me.

“Hi, may I speak to the manager?” my mom asked the cashier.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you.”

As we waited, I secretly wished a giant hole would open up and swallow the manager so I wouldn’t have to return the pin. Or for someone to run in screaming “FIRE!” and then we would haul ass outside, and my mom would be so happy I’m alive she would let me keep the pin.

“What can I do for you today Ma’am?”

“Unfortunately, my daughter thought it would be a good idea to steal a pin from this store and I wanted her to return it to you.”

“Oh, kids! I remember what it was like to be that age. Well, thank you for bringing her back. It’s good for them to learn a lesson.”

“Reshma, give it back.”

As I handed them over, I could feel my eyes start to water again with humiliation.

“Aw honey, don’t cry. It’s OK; you can keep it,” the store manager said. “The fact that you came back is good enough.”

What?! Maybe someone did understand me?! Maybe I wasn’t wrong for stealing the pin? Did he say I could keep it? It was a major coup on my part, much to my mom’s annoyance. It was the first time I realized crying could get me out of something. So perhaps the tears would work again in my favor back in the classroom.

Back in class and still, in trouble for strong-arming green beans from my classmate, I sat in my corner and debated if the teacher would also be susceptible to my crying. I turned around slightly so she could see me and then made a sad face and started tearing up. She looked at me and continued her business.

Fuck her.

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