'The bane of retail.' To prevent theft, many big chains now lock up all kinds of merchandise
Detergent and deodorant, toothpaste, the entire shampoo aisle.
"It's all locked up," Corey Potter sighed, describing shelves encased behind security glass at a Target near her home in Los Angeles' Echo Park neighborhood. "I hate it."
Potter recalled once waiting 15 minutes for an employee to unlock a case at another Target location. These days, if she sees several other shoppers waiting for too few frenzied workers, the 30-year-old video editor typically skips items on her list and later does something she doesn't feel great about: buys more home essentials on Amazon.
"Rather than go to Target and wait," she said, shrugging, "I'll just give Daddy Bezos my hard-earned cash."
Shoplifting is as old as shopping itself. And retailers have long played a game of cat and mouse with thieves, searching for ways to thwart them while still giving paying customers easy access to merchandise.
The true severity and scope of the problem remain an enduring mystery of the free market, as national chains eagerly point to retail theft as a key drag on profits, but are reticent to publicly discuss internal numbers on shrink — the industry term for theft and
