You Can’t Punk A Punk (Or Your Mother)

, , , , , | Legal | March 11, 2020

(In the nineties, I am a 25-year-old punk kid with bleached blond hair working graveyard at a [Convenience Store] in a sketchy neighborhood. I’ve worked there long enough that the locals don’t harass me — much — and I never have any real problems. One regular customer is a nurse — a beautiful older black woman who takes the last bus home and comes in and buys smokes, and we joke around about our crappy hours. One night, she comes in and asks to use the bathroom, which is against policy, but I don’t care so I let her. A few minutes later, this kid comes in wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, doing the finger gun thing in his pocket.)

Kid: “Gimme all the money!”

Me: “Your mother…”

Kid: “WHAT’D YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?”

Me: *pointing* “She’s right behind you.”

(The kid turned around as my favorite customer walked out of the bathroom with that “I’m gonna beat your a**!” look that moms use on you when you know you’ve really messed up. The kid’s face was now as white as mine as his mom dragged him out of the store by his hoodie. She said she’d take care of this if I didn’t mind. I just nodded and smiled. A few days later, I was working the morning shift on a Saturday. The kid came in, wouldn’t look me in the eye, and apologized… and invited me to their BBQ. I went and had a great time. Nobody ever messed with me or that store again.)

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