Unfiltered Story #106954

, | Unfiltered | March 11, 2018

I work with this really timid girl, she usually can get through the day just fine. However she’s extremely bad at dealing with assholes.

It just so happened that I would be her bagger, you know, the faceless dude at the end of a counter in any supermarket that you really never take notice to.
So as she’s ringing up this one lady’s things and I’m calmly and swiftly putting eggs, milk, etc into a bunch of plastic bags I can hear a very obviously directed grumble of discontent a couple customers back. I pay no mind, finish what I’m doing and the line continues on.

After a few more peaceful customers come through the source of the grumbling stands front and center in front of the register.

My co-worker, lets say her name is Liza, for the sake of anonymity, does her usual routine. I can already tell she’s a bit startled by the man’s overly tall stature. He was a good two heads taller than her.

She starts ringing his things and he progressively gets worse and worse, softly berating her as she does her job. Eventually, she asks him to pay, which he does, only for his card to be denied; this as you can expect, dear reader, didn’t go over so well.

He launches into a fit of fury, leaning over the register and yelling at poor Liza.
She does what’s natural to her, curls up into a ball and starts crying in the corner of her work station. The other three customers behind him are two ladies, one holding a child, another in her mid 80’s. It’s just me, and him.

This guy is your classic Virginian redneck, jeans, dirty white T-shirt, brown work boots. And here I am, a baseball player, not the biggest guy in terms of width.

At this point, Liza is breaking down; this is what transpired next as best as I can remember.

Me: (attempting one of those calm chilling voices) Hey bud, that’s enough, she didn’t do anything wrong.

Him: Fuck off kid, before you get hurt.

Me: Keep going, I want to have a nice good reason to put you through that shelf. (I lightly gesture to one of those impulse buy shelves)

Him: You’re real funny kid, she you girlfriend or somethin’?

At this point I should let you know that for the sake of her safety I feigned a relationship just to let the man know I was serious.

Me: Yeah, I am, and I don’t take too kindly to fucks like you, so this is your one chance bud, before I make sure your head is split wide fucking open.

He looks around at this point, starting to realize that I’m standing next to one if his items, a 6 pack of beer.

Me: (resting a hand on one of the tops of the bottles) Get out, don’t come back, or I’ll make good on that threat; trust me, I’m thorough.

In the end, I don’t know what scared him, my tone of voice, or the fact that I had his own beer as a weapon; he ran and so far I haven’t gotten a word about it.

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