(A teen approaches my cash register very slowly.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Gimme all the f***ing medicine!”

(Teen pulls out an airsoft pistol with orange tip still glued to the front.)

Me: “The pharmacy is in the back of the store.”

Customer: “Oh…okay.”

(He holsters the air-soft gun in his belt and darts down the aisles to the back of the store. My manager comes out of the back room because of the commotion.)

Manager: “Who was that?”

Me: “Some kid looking for drugs. He went back to the pharmacy.”

Manager: “Why didn’t you call the police?”

(The teen runs screaming from the back of the store out of the front door followed closely by the pharmacy technician, a 35 year old boxer built like a fridge.)

Me: “Doug started working today.”