Who the shopkeeper watches

A corner grocery on a residential street in Kuwait City. The man behind the counter keeps one eye on the schoolboys who come in after lessons, because boys, he has decided, are the ones who steal.

Meanwhile the gentleman from the big house at the end of the street has run an account for years. He takes what he needs, says to put it on his tab, and settles up when he remembers, which is rarely, and never in full. Nobody watches him. He has a large car and a good watch, so he is assumed to be decent.

Most of us learned this pairing early. Money and standing read as signs of honesty, patience and good judgement. Scruffiness reads as risk. It feels like common sense, and it is mostly wrong.

Honesty and selfishness seem to be spread across people far more evenly than money is. Any street, any family, any neighbourhood holds roughly its share of people who will cut a corner. If anything, those with more power have more corners within reach, and fewer people looking when they take them.

So the shopkeeper who judges by the uniform will be fooled, and not by the boys.

A packet of gum slipped into a school bag and a tab that is never quite paid are the same act wearing different clothes.