Dread of Wasabi

Many of you who read my last post were probably thinking I was going a bit overboard when I described my family as "screwball comedic action stars." Perhaps I was. But there have definitely been enough occasions where - through sheer force of will or blind stupid luck - we end up in bizarre situations that could end with severe bodily harm. My cousin gets into a fight with six guys at a company party. My mother is chased through the woods by a bear. And I'm not even going to get into what good ol' Uncle L. has done. Me, I'm not immune to this either. And although my latest story isn't as interesting as the examples given so far, at least it does confirm that I have the mighty Timmers blood flowing through my veins.

It happened a few nights ago, after the store was closed. I was working around the till, counting the cash and whatnot, when for no reason whatsoever the panic alarm went off. Common sense would dictate that if you have a panic alarm, you would want it to be silent so as to not agitate whoever is robbing/beating you. I guess our alarm company doesn't believe that, as our panic alarm wails like a sumbitch. Good thing I decided to wait until after the guy left the store to hit it when we were robbed oh so long ago. Anyway, after a frantic dash to input the code, I went behind the counter to unplug my computer from the phone line. You see, after the alarm goes off, the alarm company phones immediately to check the situation. If there isn't an answer, they contact the police. But because the alarm is going off on its own accord at least twice a day, we (the staff) are answering the phone and having this fun conversation:

"Hello! Is everything alright?"
"Yes, the alarm went off accidentally, again."
"The alarm doesn't go off by accident."
"Well, it did."
"But it doesn't."
"But I'm telling you it did!"
"You must have hit the button."
"I was on the other side of the store!"
"No you weren't, button-hitter."
"No, really, I was!"
"Button-hitter, button-hitter, button-hitter..."

Oh, the fun times with security services. So, I sat and waited. Ten minutes passed, and still no phone call. I was getting ready to phone them myself, when I saw a face in the store window. When I made eye contact, they jumped out of sight. Oh man, they had called the police in! Crap. I walked to the front door to see two bewildered officers staring at me, guns at the ready. You know, although this wasn't the first time somebody was ready to shoot me at the first sign of a wrong move, you just never really get over a thing like that. After opening the door with a greeting, one of them asked who the hell I was and what the hell was going on. Seeing as perhaps this wasn't the best time for my trademark "humour", I gave them the straight dope. And by that I mean I gave them straightforward answers, not passed them a doobie. Otherwise I wouldn't be typing this right now. After one of the nice officers scanned the store to check if I was telling the truth, I got a stern reprimand to phone the security service right away the next time this happened. I didn't feel the need to correct them on the issue of who phones who. Who could blame their annoyance, really; they raced over here expecting the worst and instead found some asshole sitting around and watching Homestar Runner.

Sooo... how was your night?