Overrun

       These are the times that try firearm sales associates' souls. (As if they still have souls.) 

       Portland on the Mississippi was wrapped all day in a soggy, wet, gray blanket of low clouds and showers. Many constructions sites, farms, roadway repairs, outdoor retail firms, car washes, etc, etc, etc, closed because of the unexpected weather. However, Ye Olde Gonne Shoppe was open. It's doors were an undefended border to the army of bored guys with nowhere better to go.

       They assaulted the counter, blockaded the aisles, demanded attention, shouldered aside paying customers, and generally made a nuisance of themselves; while bunkering their wallets deep in their pockets. At the same time, their confederates kept up a steady barrage of harassing phone calls. The two poor FSAs were rapidly overwhelmed - however, the horde wouldn't allow them to surrender and continued to attack mercilessly.

        The only aid offered was the promise of alcohol at the end of the shift.

        Unmet.