Airhead At The Airport

(I work in an airport shop that sells newspapers — basically, a newsstand. We also sell a lot of things, like snacks and shirts, but not scissors, since they can be classified as weapons. A frantic-looking businessman comes barreling in.)

Frantic Customer: “Give me scissors! HURRY UP.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, we don’t have scissors.”

Frantic Customer: *red-faced* “I’m gonna miss my flight! I’m very important! If you don’t give me some scissors, I will sue you!“

Me: “It’s not a question that I don’t want to give you scissors; it’s that I don’t have any!”

Frantic Customer: “Screw you! Selling these f****** locks that are so hard to f****** open!” *struggles with package*

Me: “Well… uh…”

Frantic Customer: “Now I’m late!” *comes at me with fists raised like he’ll hit me*

(Luckily, an airport security guard came along and stopped him. He flung the lock at me, yelling obscenities. They threw him out and banned him, and I haven’t seen him since!)