The Misadventures of a Novice Thief
A Lesson in Social Etiquette Gone Wrong
In the village of Rupapur, life was divided between two types of people. One group accepted their wretched fate with a bowed head, and the other group thumbed their noses at destiny and walked the crooked path to prosperity. Our story features two such men. One was Mofiz, the thief, and the other was Jabbar, the laborer.
Mofiz carried himself with the air of a gentleman. He was always well groomed, smelled faintly of high quality tobacco, and lived a life of surprising comfort. Jabbar, on the other hand, was the kind of man whose life was one long, thin sigh. He worked himself to the bone, yet his dinner plate was rarely full.
One day, the wife of Jabbar reached the end of her patience and pushed him toward a life of crime. She told him to look at Mofiz. She noted that he was a thief, yet he ate better than they did. She suggested he ask Mofiz for advice to see if his luck would turn. Jabbar felt out of his depth, so he went to find Mofiz. He found the thief lounging in a chair and looking utterly relaxed. With much hesitation, Jabbar asked Mofiz about the secret to his profession.
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Mofiz blew a smoke ring, smiled, and said that stealing was an art. He claimed the biggest investment was just having nerve. He said people were lazy and did not want the hassle of calling the police or filling out reports. He explained that if one got caught, they might give a slap or two, maybe a kick, and then send the person on their way. He insisted it was all just a matter of social etiquette.
The logic seemed flawless to Jabbar. He thought that a few slaps were a small price to pay for a full stomach. The very next afternoon, he attempted his first burglary. Naturally, he was caught within minutes.
Within seconds, a mob gathered, and the slaps began. But the mob, clearly having a bad day, was not following the script Mofiz provided. They were going at him with an enthusiasm that bordered on religious fervor. As the blows rained down, Jabbar shouted for them to stop because the deal was not supposed to be like this.
The villagers paused, mid swing, and looked bewildered. They asked what deal he was talking about. Jabbar, bleeding and disheveled, looked at them with profound indignation. He explained that he was not a professional thief. He told them that Mofiz said the etiquette for a caught thief was to give him four slaps and let him go. He complained that they were pulverizing him and that it was a blatant violation of the terms.
The villagers stared at him, stunned into silence. A thief caught red handed was trying to negotiate the terms of his own beating. One man scoffed that they would teach him the meaning of etiquette right then and there. They proceeded to give him a beating that far exceeded any professional guidelines.
Jabbar learned a harsh, ironic lesson that day. Philosophers and thieves alike often forget that when people get the chance to give someone a beating, they stop caring about theories, etiquette, or contracts. They simply enjoy the work. People are far more patient when dishing out pain than they ever are when protecting their property.
