May You Live in Interesting Times
...As the old curse goes.
So I figured the high excitement point of today would be the fact that a woman in my class wants to buy one of my pieces, or that I found a little bird's nest on the campus lawn (it now lives on top of my computer), or that I planned to drop by Druhol's Starbucks after work and apply for a job.
Turns out that that it was actually a fellow walking up to the counter at work while I had four customers in the store and asking for all the money in the register.
Okay, so I've had to explain this several times.
Caucasion, middle-aged, balding, wearing a gray ski mask like a beanie (I saw his face). He kept his hand tucked into the waist of his jeans, but I don't know if he was armed or not. He asked for the money, I said we didn't have any (I don't know why I said this). He said, "There's customers in the store." All I could think was that he was threatening to hurt them. I walked twoard the register, but the panic button was closer. As soon as I hit it (or tried to, turns out I only hit one of the two buttons you need to hit), he bolted out the door. I was thinking (or not thinking) clearly enough to flip him off, note the car leaving quickly, grab the phone, dial 911, and lock the door as it was ringing.
None of the customers saw anything, but they seemed more shaken than I was (one woman asked to use the bathroom because he, ah, literally scared the piss out of her, I guess), and they kept congratulating me on how calm I was. Let me make this clear. I was in no way, shape, or form calm. I was thinking clearly, and could express myself logically when asked specific questions or preforming familiar tasks, but I was not calm.
The police came quickly and dusted for fingerprints. That dust is nasty, it's tough to clean up. Also, one of the customers tried on a ton of clothes while the whole thing was going on. I hate yuppies. But yeah, the policemen were cool, they were chatty, lighthearted, and generally comforting. I was able to provide them with a pretty clear description, and confirmed that if I saw the bastard again, I would recognize him.
Then they left, and my instructors from the classes I had today happened to show up (it was a gallery opening tonight, and I guess they were getting dinner afterward). I got a hug from Dotty (the sweetheart, who's a head shorter than me), and the reassuring bodyguard feeling from Katie (who reminds me of Lexie and is generally tough as nails).
I locked myself in, cleaned up as much as I could, and got an escort home from mom and dad (and a ton of phone calls in which I told this story over and over).
Yes, I have been informed that I should have given fucktard the money. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't hit the alarm keys first, and I prefer not to think about it. But I know his face now, and I hope they find him. You don't do that to people. You don't pick on tiny little shops, you don't try to intimidate people, and you don't fucking threaten my customers.
If anyone shoots them, it's gonna be me, dammit. And while I'm making stupid jokes, I'd like to point out that Einstien didn't remember to pull down his ski mask the whole time, so I've memorized his face. Smooth move, ex-lax.
So yeah, I'm a little shaken, and I'm going to bed, but I'm fine, as is everyone and everything else involved.
So I figured the high excitement point of today would be the fact that a woman in my class wants to buy one of my pieces, or that I found a little bird's nest on the campus lawn (it now lives on top of my computer), or that I planned to drop by Druhol's Starbucks after work and apply for a job.
Turns out that that it was actually a fellow walking up to the counter at work while I had four customers in the store and asking for all the money in the register.
Okay, so I've had to explain this several times.
Caucasion, middle-aged, balding, wearing a gray ski mask like a beanie (I saw his face). He kept his hand tucked into the waist of his jeans, but I don't know if he was armed or not. He asked for the money, I said we didn't have any (I don't know why I said this). He said, "There's customers in the store." All I could think was that he was threatening to hurt them. I walked twoard the register, but the panic button was closer. As soon as I hit it (or tried to, turns out I only hit one of the two buttons you need to hit), he bolted out the door. I was thinking (or not thinking) clearly enough to flip him off, note the car leaving quickly, grab the phone, dial 911, and lock the door as it was ringing.
None of the customers saw anything, but they seemed more shaken than I was (one woman asked to use the bathroom because he, ah, literally scared the piss out of her, I guess), and they kept congratulating me on how calm I was. Let me make this clear. I was in no way, shape, or form calm. I was thinking clearly, and could express myself logically when asked specific questions or preforming familiar tasks, but I was not calm.
The police came quickly and dusted for fingerprints. That dust is nasty, it's tough to clean up. Also, one of the customers tried on a ton of clothes while the whole thing was going on. I hate yuppies. But yeah, the policemen were cool, they were chatty, lighthearted, and generally comforting. I was able to provide them with a pretty clear description, and confirmed that if I saw the bastard again, I would recognize him.
Then they left, and my instructors from the classes I had today happened to show up (it was a gallery opening tonight, and I guess they were getting dinner afterward). I got a hug from Dotty (the sweetheart, who's a head shorter than me), and the reassuring bodyguard feeling from Katie (who reminds me of Lexie and is generally tough as nails).
I locked myself in, cleaned up as much as I could, and got an escort home from mom and dad (and a ton of phone calls in which I told this story over and over).
Yes, I have been informed that I should have given fucktard the money. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't hit the alarm keys first, and I prefer not to think about it. But I know his face now, and I hope they find him. You don't do that to people. You don't pick on tiny little shops, you don't try to intimidate people, and you don't fucking threaten my customers.
If anyone shoots them, it's gonna be me, dammit. And while I'm making stupid jokes, I'd like to point out that Einstien didn't remember to pull down his ski mask the whole time, so I've memorized his face. Smooth move, ex-lax.
So yeah, I'm a little shaken, and I'm going to bed, but I'm fine, as is everyone and everything else involved.