The salon where I work is on a busy, main street. It gets plenty of car and foot traffic, and is a main artery through the city. If I was going to commit a criminal act, that street is not where I'd do it. But someone thought otherwise yesterday.
We have a small area outside the shop where we set up a table and chairs when the weather is nice. We keep some of the salon's newsletters on the table for passers-by, and they are weighed down by a small vase with some fake flowers in it. (The newsletters, not the passers-by.)
The Mister happened to be looking out the front window yesterday, when he saw a young woman stop, look at the newsletters and pick up the vase and the flowers to take one. Or so he thought. No, she just picked up the vase and the flowers and kept going.
He took off after her, and caught up with her a few steps away, saying to her "Excuse me, before you put that in your backpack, do you mind giving it back???" Whereupon, she ran. And so did he.
They didn't get very far, and he managed to grab her backpack while yelling "give it back", and she was yelling at him to let go. He said she was acting like he was trying to get at something of hers. He did mention that, all the while, he was conscious of the fact that he, a middle-aged man, was having a fierce and public tussle with a young woman; this had the potential to not look so good to anyone else.
She was wearing some fancy looking sunglasses (WHICH I BET SHE STOLE FROM SOMEONE ELSE) and it occurred to him to pluck those off her face and say "hah!", but figured that could spiral out of control really fast.
Anyway, she finally could see that he wasn't going to give up, and she threw the vase on the ground smashing it, and said "there!", like she had just scored some sort of moral victory. Our receptionist, the Fiercest Administrative Assistant In All The Land", managed to round the corner right as she smashed the vase, and loudly called her a very, very bad name. Which didn't do much except make everyone who heard her laugh out loud.
So, the Mister and the receptionist went back to the salon to explain their hasty departure to all and sundry.
That's my husband: mild-mannered hairdresser by day, brave crime-fighter by, um, later in the day.