“I Watched Him Steal a Sandwich—And I Kinda Got It” Keywords: youth crime, teen theft, youth desperation, poverty and crime, struggling youth
I saw it happen in broad daylight, and honestly—I just stood there.
It was this kid. Couldn’t have been older than seventeen, maybe eighteen if I’m stretching it. Baggy hoodie, beat-up sneakers, a face that still had some baby fat but eyes that looked...tired. Like life had already sucker-punched him a few too many times.
He walked into the corner store near my apartment, grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, and just—walked out. Calm. No rush. No attempt to sneak. Just gone.
The cashier shouted, ran after him, but the kid was already halfway down the street. And here’s the part I can’t shake: I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t feel scared, either.
I felt...weirdly heartbroken.
I know it’s technically a crime. I get it. Theft is theft, and it affects small businesses and all that. But I’ve been thinking about that moment a lot lately, especially with the way things are right now—rents rising, jobs drying up, everything costing more but paying less.
And for a lot of these kids, especially in rougher neighborhoods, the pressure is insane. They scroll through social media and see people flexing luxury watches and “six-figure side hustles,” while they’re wondering if they can afford lunch. That kind of gap—it messes with your head.
I used to teach part-time at a local youth center. Nothing big. Just art classes and “stay out of trouble” pep talks. And I’d hear the stories. One kid told me he stole deodorant because his mom couldn’t afford it and he was getting clowned at school. Another said he boosted a pair of sneakers—not to look cool, but because he wanted to sell them and help with rent. I mean...what do you say to that?
Some people say it’s about bad parenting. Or “lack of discipline.” But from what I’ve seen? It’s desperation. Plain and simple.
In my experience, when people feel like there’s no way forward—no jobs, no stability, no one listening—they start grabbing at whatever they can. And for teens? Who already feel invisible and powerless? It can spiral fast.
And I might be wrong, but I don’t think the answer is just more arrests or harsher punishments. That feels like throwing water on a grease fire. What they need is someone to actually see them. Opportunities that don’t feel fake. Places to go that don’t feel like traps.
The truth is, we’ve built a world where survival sometimes looks like stealing a sandwich. And instead of asking why that’s happening, we’re too busy chasing them down and locking them up.
So yeah, I watched a kid steal something, and I didn’t call the cops. I just stood there. Not because I’m soft. But because I think part of me understood.
And maybe that’s the scariest part—that it makes sense.
We can keep pretending these moments are isolated. That “bad kids” are the problem. Or we can ask: what’s going on in their world that makes theft feel like the only option?
What would you do if you were 17, hungry, broke, and invisible?
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