stradapult

Big shirtless guy in his mid-20's with a scar on his shaven head enters the store.

"I'll take a pack of Marlboro Lights."

"Sorry. No shirt, no service."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"No, dude. It's pretty standard."

He starts getting angry.

"Come on, sell them to me!"

"Go put a shirt on and I will."

"This is bullshit!"

He just stands there glaring at me. Then he says:

"You're like the kind of kid who got beat up in school, aren't you?"

Christ. So at this point there's five other customers watching this interaction. I felt like a bit of a bastard not just selling them to him, but I'd prefer not to have a bunch of sweaty shirtless guys in the store, anyway. When he says this, though, I get elementary school flashbacks of getting my ass kicked. I HATE being victimized. There's a thousand scenarios I wish had played out, but I just stood there and seethed as he repeated the question.

"Fine. Fuck it." He turns to his friend. "Get me a pack of Marlboro Lights!"

"I don't have my ID." His friend says.

"You don't need it. If he doesn't sell them, I'm gonna find him later and kick his ass myself."

The shirtless guy leaves. His friend approaches, he found his ID.

"I'll take a pack of Marlboro Lights."

"Uh, no."

"Why? I have my ID."

"It doesn't matter. I won't sell them to you because your friend is an asshole."

So for the next few minutes I'm seething and hating myself for not having the serenity to retort the brute's threats.

MY JOB IS SO FUCKING AWESOME!