I Do Work Here, But Not With You!

I’m a convenience store cashier, and besides the occasional robbery, nothing really happens here. We’ve had a handful of super dramatic “get on the ground” robberies, but most are just regular shoplifters.

Because nothing really happens here, I like to make small talk with the people in the store to pass the time. Sometimes people have great stories, sometimes we end up knowing someone in common, and sometimes it’s just nice to make a person smile.

The other day, I was out from behind the register stocking shelves. I was the only person in the store because weekday afternoons are usually slow and because basically everyone has quit.

It’s getting cold here, and the building still hasn’t turned the heat on, so I had a hoodie featuring the logo of a local sports team over my uniform — a short-sleeve shirt and name tag. So, I guess I just looked like a guy browsing the aisles.

But it wasn’t a problem because when a customer came in I’d say, “Let me know if you need anything,” and that cleared it up.

Maybe two came in during the entire start of my shift. Just as things were wrapping up and I’d had a long dead streak, a guy about my age came in, and he seemed to be in a great mood.

He also had a big hoodie, but it was cold out, so I didn’t think anything of it at all. I spoke to him from where I was, down with the shelves.

Me: “Let me know if you need anything.”

He came and stood by me, kind of, giggling. Weird, but, I’ve seen weirder. Whatever. Finally, I said:

Me: “Can I help you?”

Guy: “Aheheheheheheheheh… Hey.”

Me: “Hi…”

Then, he started talking to me about the logo on my hoodie. We went back and forth for a bit. My side of the conversation was normal; his side was really overstated. In hindsight, it’s because he was nervous, but I was kind of checked out and didn’t really care at the time.

I’d say something like:

Me: “He’s got a good arm, but his head just isn’t in it this season.”

And this guy would reply:

Guy: “Oh, my God, the best arm. Once-in-a-lifetime talent. But he’s not there at all. Gone. Trash. Garbage. They should just cut him.”

I kept stocking the shelves, not thinking at all about the odd nature of what he was saying, and instead thinking in the back of my mind, “Is he gonna buy something or what?”

From there, we actually got to talking about how we got into the game. We had a really heartfelt conversation about going with our fathers and sitting in the cheap seats, and we did actually sort of bond a little.

Finally, we ran out of sports commentary to make at one another, though, so there was a wave of silence for a few minutes.

Then, he got uncomfortably close to me.

Guy: *Whispering* “I like you a lot, you know that?”

My first thought was that this was some kind of gay thing. It’s no problem at all if that’s what you’re into. It’s not my scene, though, so I took a healthy step back and told him thanks, but no, thanks.

He laughed kind of maniacally and explained to me, no, he meant he liked me so he’d be willing to cut me in on what he was currently doing. I asked what that was.

Guy: “Ain’t nobody in here. I’ve got my truck outside. I’m gonna load it up with beer and s***. You seem like a good dude, so I’m tipping you off in case you want anything. Ain’t no one here; it’s easy money, bro.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was trying to rob the store, and he was telling me about it.

I quickly realized that his overly-excited, socially inappropriate behavior must’ve been due to drugs. Rather than confront someone on drugs (in my experience, their moods can change from perky to violent really quickly), I just went with my gut and decided to play along.

I knew I needed an excuse to get back behind the register.

Me: “Good s***. Forget the beer, though, man. I’m going for the real easy money.”

And I hopped over behind the counter, where I promptly but discreetly pressed the button that locks the doors from the inside, followed shortly by our brand-new panic button. It was the first time I’d ever used it, and I’d hoped there wouldn’t be a time, but at least I wasn’t genuinely panicking yet.

At that point, the guy had loaded both shoulders up with six packs and headed for the door to make the first of what I’m sure he anticipated would be several trips. He pushed against the door with his hip and, of course, it didn’t budge. And he pushed pretty hard, anticipating that it would swing easily, so I felt kind of bad seeing him wince. He nearly dropped the beer.

He turned to me, more frustrated than scared at this point.

Guy: “Bruh, the door’s jammed. Can you give it a try?”

I was nervous to step out from behind the register in case this guy had a weapon, so I tried to deflect.

Me: “Maybe you’ve got to pull it.”

He started freaking out and running around the store. He tried the back door (but it had locked, as well), and he tried to climb up and reach the one tiny window we’ve got, but not only was it too high, but it doesn’t really fit a person.

I kept playing dumb. Eventually, the cops came. It took a while, and the guy had resorted to hiding in the stock room by the time they made it over — though, not before first wrecking a couple of aisles in his frenzy. But at least I was able to lock him in the stock room once he went inside.

They came in to arrest the guy and… he started trying to blame the whole thing on me! He said I’d set him up and that I’d made him do it. It genuinely confused the police for a bit.

So, I don’t work as a robber. I do work at the gas station — though, how much longer will depend on how many more robberies I live down.