More Like A Bemusement Park

My job is making change so people can play amusement park games. It’s a slow night, and a big, tall man comes in.

Me: “Hello, sir. Do you have any questions about the game?”

The customer says nothing and moves into my personal space. I back up.

Me: “You use your quarters to push quarters off the end of the board, and it gives you one ticket for each quarter.”

The customer moves into my personal space again, looming over me. I put my hands in my change apron.

Me: “The tickets can be traded for prizes—”

The customer shoves his hand into my right apron pocket. I grab his wrist and squeeze.

Customer: “Let go of my hand!”

Me: “Your hand is in my pocket. Now open it up, and we’ll move it out of my pocket slowly.”

I squeeze more tightly for emphasis. His hand comes out, and he’s not holding anything.

Me: “Good. Now either you can leave, or I can call my boss and you can try explaining why your hand was in my pocket.”

He chose to leave. I was left to wonder why somebody so big went for trying to pick my pocket, and why he didn’t at least take the time to figure out that I kept bills in the LEFT pocket.