Most of the high-end stores on the Mile use iPads. Supposedly the retail slaves all carry them around so they can ring customers up without needing to go to the counter, but the real reason is they think an iPad makes them look like the rich fucks who shop there.
Chip and me had it wired. The Mile is a mob scene from the first of November to New Year’s, so the stores staff up with temps. College kids, mostly. Poor fools from rich families without any street sense at all.
Chip and me dressed the part. I wore a white polo shirt and Uggs. Chip had on a blue oxford and a school tie he got at Goodwill for a quarter. We acted like the wealthy kids who live in Gold Coast townhouses or Forest Hills mansions. We tittered and made fun of people. Anyone would have guessed us at thirteen to fifteen. The clerks watched to make sure we didn’t put anything into our bags, but with the tags they got on stuff now shoplifting is almost impossible anyway.
We went into the Rolex store on Michigan. I stood at a long glass table full of diamond-crusted Oysters, real lowdown gangsta shit. Some of those fuckers cost seventy-five, eighty grand. Chip had his arm around me, his expression bored and typical. The sleeves of his Italian leather jacket were hiked up to show the Patek Phillipe on his skinny wrist. He’d swiped that from a commuter who fell asleep on the Blue train last year. Chip has fast hands.
He toyed with my hair. I bit my finger like girls do and like I never do, but had practiced doing in front of a mirror, and not just for this. The Rolex clerk was a young kid from India or Saudi or somewhere. Sharper than normal. He kept staring at us. I stared back, real sexy. I licked my finger like a cock. He flushed and averted his eyes, found another customer quick as he could. He left the iPad on the counter.
That’s when Chip made the switch. The one we swapped it for was a little older, an iPad 2, but they were both white. Chip had set it up so when the clerk swiped a card he’d see that little blinking bomb.
By that time we were sitting in the back of a taxi. I used my laptop to pull all the card numbers and pins off the iPad. Chip had a stack of blank credit cards and a magnetic encoder. We had the taxi drive around until we had eight or ten cards ready, then made him stop outside a bank. Chip went in and withdrew the max from each card. We netted six thousand dollars in an hour.
And that was just the first time we did it.
Once they started putting chips into the cards it was all over. We’d gotten used to the money by then.
That’s where the real tragedy started.
In response to The Daily Post:Shiny