I Stole a Bottle of Imported Honey From Brandi Carlile

I don't go around stealing things as a general rule. I'm not a thief. I don't shoplift; I don't take things that don't belong to me, and I certainly don't make a habit of pocketing items from celebrities. But every rule has its exception, and mine came in the form of an 8.8-ounce bottle of imported Manuka honey valued at roughly $45 sitting there like a dare, and I succumbed to temptation.

The Opportunity

I don't remember the exact context. Maybe it was backstage at a concert, a private event, or a gathering where Brandi Carlile's presence was felt even when she wasn't in the room. What I do remember is the bottle. It sat there, sleek and expensive-looking, with its MGO rating and its promises of antibacterial properties and health benefits. It was imported honey, the kind you don't just buy at a supermarket. It was the kind of honey you'd expect to taste like heaven.

And I took it.

I didn't plan it. I didn't walk in with the intention of stealing. But sometimes opportunities present themselves, and we make choices that surprise even ourselves. I saw the bottle, I was briefly alone with it, and I made a decision that I justified in the moment with a flimsy excuse: It's just honey. She probably won't even notice. It's overpriced anyway.

The Justification

That's the thing about temptation: it always comes with a story. A justification. A way to make ourselves feel like we're not doing something wrong. I told myself that honey is honey. I told myself that Brandi Carlile has more money than she knows what to do with. I told myself that this was a tiny, insignificant act in a world full of much bigger problems.

But none of that made it true.

What I did was steal. It wasn't grand larceny, but it was still wrong. And the fact that I could justify it so easily in the moment was, in hindsight, more concerning than the theft itself.

The Aftermath

I walked away with the honey. I didn't get caught. No alarms went off. No one chased me. It was clean and easy, which somehow made it feel worse. If there had been consequences, I might have felt like I'd paid for my mistake. Instead, I just felt uneasy.

Then I tasted it.

The Irony

Brandi Carlile got the last laugh. This honey was horrible.

Insanely overpriced, and tasted exactly like cough syrup the thick, medicinal kind that coats your throat and makes you wish you'd just taken a spoonful of sugar instead. There was no floral sweetness, no subtle complexity, no justification for the $45 price tag. Just honey that tasted like regret.

I sat there, alone with my stolen honey and my stolen pride, and I realized something: the universe has a sense of humor. I had taken something that wasn't mine, something I didn't need, something that ended up being completely disappointing. The lesson was clear, not just about stealing, but about desire itself. We want what we can't have, we take what isn't ours, and we convince ourselves it will be worth it. And then we taste it, and we realize that the wanting was always better than the having.

The Lesson

I don't steal things anymore. Not because I'm morally superior, but because I've experienced the specific disappointment of stealing something and finding out it wasn't worth it. It's a strangely effective deterrent. The shame, the guilt, the icky feeling of having done something wrong those are bad enough. But the true punishment was the taste.

I also learned that celebrities aren't immune to overpriced, underwhelming products. Brandi Carlile is a brilliant musician, no doubt. But her taste in honey? Questionable. Or maybe she knows exactly what she's doing, and the honey is a tax write-off. Either way, I'm not the one who got the better end of that deal.

If I could go back, I wouldn't steal the honey. Not because I've become a saint, but because I've learned that the things we take without permission rarely bring us the satisfaction we expect. The wanting is always more exciting than the having. The forbidden fruit or forbidden honey is always sweeter in our imagination than it is in reality.

So I'm done stealing. Not because I've turned over a new leaf, but because I've discovered the ultimate punishment for theft: the stolen item ends up being a massive disappointment.

Brandi Carlile, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I took your honey. But also, you should really consider switching to a different brand. That stuff is awful.