Low On The Milk Of Human Kindness, Part 2

(I work in my family’s grocery store, which has been in my family since 1956. We’ve had the same hours at least since my parents purchased it in 1993. We close at 7 pm every Monday through Friday night. It is currently 7:05. The doors are locked, and I am cleaning the deli slicer, which is clearly visible from the front doors. An elderly man walks up to the door, looks at the “Closed” sign hanging on the door, and begins incessantly banging on the door. I look at my coworker who is counting money at the counter and agree to answer the door.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, but we’re closed.”

Customer: “All I need is a d*** gallon of milk.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’ve already shut down the registers.”

(The customer proceeds to push me back with the door, which opens inward, walks across the front of the store to the milk cooler, and grabs a gallon of milk.)

Coworker: “I can only ring this up if you have cash.”

(Customer throws five dollars down on the counter and stomps out the door, cussing my coworker and I out the entire time.)

Me: “Well, he was nice.”