It’s Called Black Friday Because Of The Bruises

It’s Black Friday and I’m standing at the customer service desk. Our store has decided to try to space out sales this year. For example, from six to eight, women’s T-shirts, camping equipment, and video games are on sale. From eight to ten, baby clothes, toys, and candy are on sale. This is intended to keep people spread out so that the whole store is not mobbed, and people can plan their shopping accordingly.

Around 6:30 am, right after our sales began, a man built like a brick wall comes up to the desk carrying a bike with training wheels.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “This bike isn’t on sale.”

He points to the Black Friday ad on the wall.

Customer: “But your ad says it is.”

Me: “The bike sales are at ten; that’s why it’s not coming up at the sale price.”

Customer: “No, it’s [sale price] because that’s what your ad says.”

Me: “At ten.”

He begins flexing his muscles and rotating his shoulders.

Customer: “This. Bike. Is. On. Sale.”

Me: “At ten. Is there anything else?”

Customer: *Picks up the bike with one hand* “Sell me this bike or I will throw it at your f****** head.”

Me: “You can leave, sir.”

Customer: “F*** you, you low-life c***.”

Though my heart was beating out of my chest, I walked calmly into the back office and locked the door, watching on the CCTV as I called for security. The man threw the bike at the door, screaming and swearing. Our local police officers were on site that night — because, you know, big sales make people crazy — and came to remove the man from the store. It took several of them to get him out of the store, and only after he had been pepper-sprayed, wrestled to the ground, and cuffed did he leave.