That time I unwittingly prevented a knife-point robbery

2026-06-03 02:22 by Ian

I'm a Tylenol-American. I don't pick up on the social cues others expect, and do detect many cues that most people don't know they emit.

If you've ever regularly carried a gun in public, you develop a rapid and automatic practice of threat-assessment whenever you enter a room. IYKYK, but for those that don't, the first 3 seconds of thought in a new room go something like this...

Two guys absorbed in their conversation (harmless).
Woman (harmless)
Boisterous drunk, but has two sober(ish) friends with him (harmless).
Two women in line (harmless).
That guy in the far corner is assessing me as I assess the room (cop? military?).
He has a woman with him, so he's not here to cause trouble. Simply wondering if I will.
I make eye-contact and after an exchange of knowing smiles, we bin each other as "no threat, possible ally".

Encountering people that end up in the (threat) bin is fairly rare for me. Rare enough that while I'm binning them, I sometimes unconsciously emit a flat, intent stare as I examine my flash diagnostic that caused my amygdala to raise a threat flag.

So it went in this instance. Somewhere near 2am, my friend (driving) and I (passenger) pulled into a QuikTrip parking lot at 40th street and Cactus looking for Red Bull and some cheap protein after a long coding binge.

As my friend puts his car in park, I notice a short man with dead-looking eyes walking up to the store, positioned to enter it a few moments after us.

Now... my friend and I are both trim, >190cm, and we both wear combat boots to parties. And although neither of us have a physique for brawling, our size is probably imposing.

The man notices me watching him as I exit the car, and we lock eyes for a moment. But before I could decide what about him was off, he smoothly turns on his heal and walks back to his car.

Forgot his wallet? His clothes are filthy, but it's 2AM, and perhaps he's just tired.

I mentally shrug, and as I enter the store the clerk is staring at me. I nod and smile at him, and he relaxes fractionally.

There is a middle-aged woman who looks frightened of something. She backpedals into the stockroom as I walk up the isle toward her (and the Red Bull).

There are only the four of us in the store, and the two that have been here longer than 10 seconds look quite rattled. Weird...

I grab a soda, some fried things that purported to be edible, and walk up to the clerk's counter to pay. The exchange went something like this:

Me: (Small-talk) "Hey, how's it going?"
Clerk: (Mild relief) "Pretty good. I'm glad you two walked up when you did."
Me: (Cocked eyebrow) "Yeah?"
Clerk: "Yeah. Did you see that guy out front before you walked in the door?"
Me: "Yeah. Short guy in a filthy white t-shirt?"
Clerk: "He was about to come in here, pull a knife, and steal beer. He did it a few nights ago and fled. The cops couldn't find him."

The knowledge of what happened in the preceding 12 seconds falls into place with vertigo-inducing swiftness.

That ill-looking wretch with the vacant stare was about to walk into the store at the same time as my friend and I, but turned abruptly because something in his read of us convinced him that it would be better for his health to do something else with the night.

Seeing what was about to happen, the clerk told his coworker to take cover and call the cops. He must have just finished his instructions when we breezed in the door as if nothing was wrong. The woman that was now cowering in the stock room wasn't sure if I was the guy with the knife or not.

I had my pocket-knife, as ever, but no gun. My friend's EDC at the time was an 8-pound slab of a MAC-10 with a full mag of .45 ACP. I never did understand his taste in sidearms, but anyone who knows him also knows that he has his own methods that work for him. So we don't question it.

I briefly imagine my friend explaining his choice of concealed carry pistol to the Phoenix police department, and the massive ding to the thief's izzat after having being shot by a firmware engineer.
The left corner of my mouth forms an involuntary smile.

Me: "Want us to hang around?"
Clerk: "Nah, I think you and your buddy scared him off. The cops are on their way."

As my friend drives us home, I explain what just happened. He was still thinking about his code, and all of it passed through him without rising to his attention. Truly, I'd have been just as oblivious had I not been first to talk to the clerk.
I often wonder how many times this has happened that I haven't noticed.

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