You’re behind the counter at the liquor store which is gracious enough to pay you to engage in your favorite pastime (poisoning people slowly) when you see a young man attempting to stuff two handles of Fireball into his pants.
No worries – you’ve trained for this.
You retrieve the official Customer Service Axe from its perch on the back wall and approach the kid. You’re going to give this guy excellent customer service. In fact, you’re going to customer service the shit out of him. If you’re lucky, you’ll customer service the blood out of him, too.
“Hello sir can I help you find anything today?” you scream as you hop over the counter on one hand, axe raised above your head in the other.
The young man freezes in his tracks and drops one of the handles of fireball. His baggy jeans, too-long jeans begin to soak up the whisky from the floor, darkening them a millimeter at a time. This darkening perfectly mirrors the growing dark spot at the crotch of his jeans.
“Sir I hope you’ve found everything you were looking for today,” you continue shouting at the top of your lungs, advancing steadily towards him, “can I help you bring anything to the register so that you can pay with the money you brought with you specifically to buy liquor?”
The kid bolts for the door, barely avoiding slipping in the spilled whiskey and cracking his skull on the concrete floor.
“Thank you and I’m sure you know to expect the same excellent service the next time you visit us!” you call after him as the door swings closed.
It feels good to help people.