A Bad Day To Be A Pair Of Jeans

(It is about five minutes to closing on a Saturday night and we have maybe five or six employees working, all female. A new bar has just opened next door, and a drunk man wanders in.)

Drunk Man: “I need to buy some matches.”

Me: “I’m sorry sir. We don’t sell matches, only clothes.”

Drunk Man: “Well, then sell me a lighter. I need a cigarette.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t sell lighters or matches, just clothes.”

Drunk Man: “D*** it, just give me one.”

Me: “I don’t have one, sir, or trust me, I would.”

Drunk Man: “You lying b****! Give me a f****** match you b****!”

Me: “Sir, you need to leave, or I’m calling the police. We don’t have lighters or matches. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Drunk Man: “I’ll get it myself!”

(He storms off toward the men’s department. I call my coworker in that department, then call the manager to give them a heads up. A few minutes later, the man goes running out, empty-handed, and my coworker is racing after him. She grabs my phone and starts screaming over the intercom for our manager. I asked her what happened.)

Coworker: “He pissed all over the Levis!”