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or, how I almost got the boys shot off!
For those who don't know, I work at a sandwich deli as a delivery driver. On most days, I will work a morning-afternoon shift and then the night shift. I (usualy) get a two hour break between 'em and during that time, I'll be down at the range. On thursday i was shooting my handy little .22 ruger when I had the urge to remount my rear sight. To make this short, I was at the counter getting a hand with my sights when an older lady, whom we will call "Jane Doe", walked in. Jane Doe had a gimp all down her right side, kinda like a polio victim or a person who's had a stroke, her arm and leg just wouldn't work quite right. As I'm fiddling with my piece I listen to her ask to rent a handgun. The other counter clerk tried to convince her to use the revolver that she had last time but she would have none of it. She eventually settled on a ruger mark II.
Over the next ten minutes, the fellow at the counter slowly, clearly and carefully explained the operation of the pistol, multiple times. At this point, I reassembled my piece and returned to the vacant pistol range. Several targets later I hear the door to the pistol area open and close. "No biggy" I think, she will just pick a range and maybe get tired of loading those blasted thumb-operated magazines. No such luck. Of all the open lanes, Jane Doe picked the one right next to me. After a while I hear her begin to take shots at her Q target which is all of 10 feet away, still I'm thinking "no biggy", but in a slightly nervous fashion. I hear her go through about two mags, and by this time the black dot is beckoning me for some attention. I hear Ms. Doe start on her third magazine and after about three shots she stops firing. I hear this small voice from behind saying, "excuse me." I safe my pistol and lay it on the bench and then turn around. What I saw was this 4'5" frail woman pointing that mark II at my hip/genitals and pulling the trigger repeatedly whilst saying, "it won't fire." ***!?!?!? I immidiately grab the gun and turn it to the side and down at the floor. Once I get her hands off it I start to eject the mag and , the -ing mag release isn't in the same place as my 22/45. I don't want to dick with a system I don't know so I eject the dud, safe the pistol and wait for the guy from the counter who was by this time, running to the pistol range.
I hadn't been having all that much luck with my still FUBAR sights so this was as good a reason as any to pack up...in the end they comped my range time but I still want to go back and speak with the owner. Any ideas on what to do guys? I'm really at a loss here...
For those who don't know, I work at a sandwich deli as a delivery driver. On most days, I will work a morning-afternoon shift and then the night shift. I (usualy) get a two hour break between 'em and during that time, I'll be down at the range. On thursday i was shooting my handy little .22 ruger when I had the urge to remount my rear sight. To make this short, I was at the counter getting a hand with my sights when an older lady, whom we will call "Jane Doe", walked in. Jane Doe had a gimp all down her right side, kinda like a polio victim or a person who's had a stroke, her arm and leg just wouldn't work quite right. As I'm fiddling with my piece I listen to her ask to rent a handgun. The other counter clerk tried to convince her to use the revolver that she had last time but she would have none of it. She eventually settled on a ruger mark II.
Over the next ten minutes, the fellow at the counter slowly, clearly and carefully explained the operation of the pistol, multiple times. At this point, I reassembled my piece and returned to the vacant pistol range. Several targets later I hear the door to the pistol area open and close. "No biggy" I think, she will just pick a range and maybe get tired of loading those blasted thumb-operated magazines. No such luck. Of all the open lanes, Jane Doe picked the one right next to me. After a while I hear her begin to take shots at her Q target which is all of 10 feet away, still I'm thinking "no biggy", but in a slightly nervous fashion. I hear her go through about two mags, and by this time the black dot is beckoning me for some attention. I hear Ms. Doe start on her third magazine and after about three shots she stops firing. I hear this small voice from behind saying, "excuse me." I safe my pistol and lay it on the bench and then turn around. What I saw was this 4'5" frail woman pointing that mark II at my hip/genitals and pulling the trigger repeatedly whilst saying, "it won't fire." ***!?!?!? I immidiately grab the gun and turn it to the side and down at the floor. Once I get her hands off it I start to eject the mag and , the -ing mag release isn't in the same place as my 22/45. I don't want to dick with a system I don't know so I eject the dud, safe the pistol and wait for the guy from the counter who was by this time, running to the pistol range.
I hadn't been having all that much luck with my still FUBAR sights so this was as good a reason as any to pack up...in the end they comped my range time but I still want to go back and speak with the owner. Any ideas on what to do guys? I'm really at a loss here...