(Our store used to have a completely gutted 1957 Chevy truck as a center piece. It was part of the store’s trademark. Walking down the store past the truck, I am stopped by an old man.)

Me: “Sir?”

Old Man: “Young lady, how much are you selling this truck for?”

Me: “Sorry sir, the truck isn’t for sale. It’s owned by [company].”

Old Man: “I’ll give you 100 dollars for it.”

Me: “Sir, the truck is not for sale. I apologize.”

Old Man: “All right…I’ll give you two hundred!”

Me: “Sir, the truck is not for sale. And even if it was, it would be for a LOT more than 200 dollars.”

Old Man: “Yes, I suppose you’re right… SAY! SOMEONE STEALING, LOOK!” *points behind me*

(As I turn to look behind me, the man climbs the crates next to the truck, opens the driver’s seat door and gets behind the wheel.)

Old Man: “WHOOOOOOOOO-HAW! CAN’T CATCH ME NOW, CAN YOU!” *swings steering wheel around and starts to make gun noises* “PEW PEW! PEWW PEW!”

(Mall Security ended up being called, after the old man was “trying” to run us over. I wish I was joking.)