It's true. I used to take ashtrays from bars and restaurants. I told the hub that they wanted us to take them for advertising in our homes. Then, I read an article in The Wall Street Journal of all places, that talked about stealing is stealing. Towels from hotels, silverware from restaurants and ashtrays.

My girlfriends were just as bad. We'd leave a place and I always carried a large purse and they would sneak ashtrays into my purse and when I walked out, it would clang.

Now, if I see an ashtray that I like, I ask if I can buy one and the waiter always gives me one free.

We were in Norway and after eating at a restaurant and returning to the hotel bar, he said, "Can I ask you something? I thought he would ask how long I had been a thief, given that I had taken yet another ashtray that evening. Instead, he asked me, "Will you be my wife?"

I've reformed my bad ways. I don't steal anymore. Who knew I was actually a real thief?

So, instead you stole his heart! This makes for a cute Valentines Day story!

My mother-in-law used to wrap up a wine glass in a cloth napkin and bring it home. It's not like she didn't already have enough wine glasses; I always wondered about that.

And then my sister-in-law stole a bra once. I'm sorry, but it was hilarious even though it was wrong. We were all shopping for strapless bras for being in her wedding. While we were checking out, my mom-in-law (yes, the wine glass thief) found out the bra was in her daughter's purse. She started shaking, literally, and we had to hold her arm as we walked to the car.

She was so afraid someone was going to come running out of the store after us. She got in the car, and she was like, "Go!, Go!" We just laughed so hard.

My daughter-in-law's mother once told me that she would go to stores, buy beautiful dresses with her daughters, wear them once, and then return them. I was really shocked. They laughed at me and said everyone does that. In my eyes that's stealing...but I kept my mouth shut...didn't want any in-law problem. What do you think?

Hannalore, I think I wouldn't want to be the next customer who bought that same dress! Yuck!

Yes Hannelore, I've heard of that, and I feel the same way you do about it.

And that bra incident I mentioned? That was about 30 years ago. I don't know if my sister-in-law still does things like that or not...

I stole something when I was about 10 years old. We lived in a small town and I used to have to walk downtown everyday to pick up our mail at the post office. Some days my Mom would give me a quarter to buy myself a treat on the way home. Usually I'd buy a chocolate bar or candy, but sometimes I would browse through the old five-and-dime department store (you know, the kind with the creaky floors?) trying to find something for 25 cents.

One day I saw a beautiful white rosary. But it was 30 cents and I only had 25. So I went home and told my Mom about it and told her I was going to save my money until I had enough to buy that rosary. But she told me I couldn't, because I wasn't a Catholic. But oh, how I wanted that rosary. I pleaded with her, but for some reason, she stuck to her refusal and wouldn't let me buy it.

Well, one day I was back in the store, looking longingly at it, knowing I had enough money in my pocket to buy it, but not my Mom's approval. The temptation was too much and I stuck it in my pocket then ran all the way home and hid it in my room. I slept with that rosary either under my pillow or in my hand every night for years after that, but always had this niggling little feeling of guilt for having stolen it...but in my convoluted thinking, it wasn't a fair guilt - I WANTED to pay for it, but Mom wouldn't let me. Stolen or not, despite the guilt, that rosary kept me company through many long, dark, lonely and tumultuous teenage nights.

When I was 16, I got a part-time job at that same store. After a few months working there, I got up the nerve to confess to the manager about having stolen the rosary, and asked him to let me pay for it now. He did. But I still had to keep the rosary hidden from my Mom, (not afraid because I had stolen it, but because I had gotten it despite her refusal to let me have it) and when we moved I was afraid to pack it, thinking she'd find it, so I hid it way back on the top shelf of my brother's closet and didn't take it with me to our new house. I missed it terribly.

Years later, I joined the Catholic church and was given a beautiful one as a gift. I'm no longer a Catholic (long story), but still sleep with that rosary nearby. But as beautiful as that one is, I'll never forget how safe and companioned I felt by that stolen little 30-cent white one.

Cute stories.

I think this is why stores won't let you return clothing that has the tag removed.

When I used to do tv commercials, we were expected to bring at least six outfits for the producers to pick from. I didn't have many clothes at that time nor the money to buy them so I would charge them to my credit card and return the one's I hadn't worn.

When I had my DQ, we had a large fish bowl out front with a slot in the bottom. If you dropped a quarter in and it hit the slot, you would win a Blizzard. The money went to the local children's hospital. Someone stole it! Can you believe it? I think I got paid back for all the ashtrays I had stolen or something. Karma at work.

Diane, really good story. I don't remember stealing. I do remember accidentally breaking one of my mother's teacups, and I broke my piggy bank and left her all the money with a note about how sorry I was and hid in my bedroom. I knew how important those teacups were - memories she had collected!

EH, loved your story!
When I was around 6 or 7, I was fascinated with copper pennies. My mother kept them on hand for her business and I came across her petty cash once while doing my chores in her shop. I grabbed as many pennies as my little hands would hold and hid them well in the bottom drawer of my bureau, under my clothes. I worried that I would be caught, but never was. It probably amounted to no more than a quarter's worth, but it seemed like a treasure chest full every time I opened my drawer and pulled back my clothes to stare at them secretly in the dim light. I don't know what I did with them. I don't remember spending them. I don't remember giving them back. I don't remember sharing them with someone else. The only thing I can think of happening is maybe I did get caught and I've repressed the memory of it. (Punishment came harsh in our house.) I've spoken to my mom about my thievery since becoming an adult. When I did, she made light of it. The act still haunts me, even though I've forgiven my childishness.
Now, I have taken washcloths from hotels in my past... back when I used a curling iron, I'd wrap a damp one around it, if it was still hot, before I packed it.