Get His Details And CALL THE POLICE!

I work in retail at my boyfriend’s gun store. This was the first phone call of the day. The phone rang and I picked up. This had to be a male in his mid- to late twenties, by the sound of his voice, so a grown man.

Me: “[Shop], how can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, miss, hello. You guys sell and know about guns, yes? Different calibers and all.”

Me: “Yes, we do. Is there something I can answer for you?”

Customer: “Yes, what caliber would I shoot a dog with? A small one.”

I froze for a moment, shocked. It crossed my mind that MAYBE he meant his own dog, an old one, maybe a terminally ill one, one that he couldn’t afford to put down — that type of deal.

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Would a .22 do? My neighbor’s d*** dog never shuts up. It’s always barking.”

Me: “Sir, you can’t d—”

Customer: “Or would a different one do better? I want it down in one shot. Two if need be, but nothing more, and I want to do it soon.”

Me: “You can’t shoot your neighbor’s dog.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not? It never shuts up. And it’s so tiny that its bark sounds like loud squeaking. I want it gone.”

Me: “That doesn’t matter. You can’t do that. And I can’t help with that.”

This type of conversation continued for about five minutes.

Customer: “Fine! I want to talk with someone else!”

I handed the phone over to a coworker. I later found out the man threw a fit and wasn’t very pleasant but caved and hung up.