When I was eight or nine, I stole something.
A piece of gum, if you want specifics. Not my proudest moment, I’ll be the first to admit.
The story goes that one day after school while waiting to be picked up by my dad, I asked a girl for some gum and she said no, even though she had plenty. Which made me mad. (I was an entitled little brat, wasn’t I?)
Instead of taking no for an answer and letting bygones be bygones, I slid my sticky little fingers into said girl’s school bag and stole the piece of gum I was denied.
As far as thievery goes, I wasn’t very sneaky about it and I was caught.
Gum still sugary sweet in cheek.
What followed was one of the most embarrassing moments of my young life. The next day I was called into the principal’s office, given a stern talking to, made to apologise and pay the girl back for what I had taken.
A whole 30 cents.
The equivalent of a Chappie in those days, I suppose.
I wish I could say that’s where the story ends but my older brother Gavin found out about my indiscretion and, as older brothers often do, tormented me about it for years to come.
Any time he wanted something from me or wanted me to do something for him, all it would take was a sing-song “Chappies bubble gum…” from his lips and I’d just about crumble in fear of him telling our parents my little secret.
The moral of the story? I grew up into a woman who can’t sneak sugar from the cupboard, let alone steal or lie. In that way, my brother’s torment worked.
I’ll never steal again, and I sure as hell won’t ever do something I don’t want to own up to.
At least that’s how I try to live my life now.
As honestly and honourably as possible.
Because the alternative sucks.
The sneaking around, the heart pounding with fear of being caught out, the worry that any moment could be the one someone spills the beans about what you’ve done wrong.
On top of a very healthy fear of the prison system, my brother taught me an important lesson all those years ago. Do the crime, and chances are you’ll have to do the time. One way or another.
Why am I telling you this?
To remind you to be honest. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it hurts. Even when it means putting your big girl panties on, swallowing your pride and admitting “I f*cked up. I’m sorry”.
To remind you to live the kind of life you can look back at without cringing about. That you should never ever steal or lie or deceive.
Not at school, not at work and not in your relationships.
Because Big Brother is always watching.
Because the truth has a way of always coming to light.
Because it will bite you in the a**. And hard.
You’d do well to remember that.
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