I was on a tight deadline, having decided to squeeze both a workout and a mad dash to the grocery store into an hour and a half before our company arrived for supper. I grabbed my two bags of tater tots, paid for them and hurried out the door only to find the exit blocked by serveral employees and a tall man in his thirties dressed in jeans and an untucked button-down shirt.
“Just lift your shirt, and you can go,” the manager says the man.
“I’m not baring my body for you!”
“Lift your shirt and show us you don’t have anything under there, and you can go.”
“You’re violating my rights,” the man yells, flailing his arms in anger.
“Do you want to file a complaint? We can call the police now.”
“I just want to go. Get out of my way!”
“Then lift your shirt. Show us there’s nothing there.”
The man proceeds to pull something from under his shirt and throw it in the direction of the wall of employees who then part like the Red Sea to allow the man passage through the doors.
As he hurries into the parking lot, he turns and yells back at the employees, “I am NEVER shopping here again!”