Finally one that I can answer. I was living in Alaska for a year and picked up a part-time job in the winter as a gun counterclerk at a national sporting goods chain. One slow evening a kid comes in. By kid, I'm talking college grad age and starts staring into the pistol case. I asked him if he wants to see one and that I need his ID to verify his age. All's going well. It's obvious he's new to guns. I asked him what his intern purpose to use was in order to find what might suit his needs. He says he wants a cowboy style gun and all he wants to do is go shooting to let off steam. That his mom teases him for always being on the computer and growing up a pussy. The more I talked to him, the more I realized he was just a closet weeboo. My brother's a full on weeboo so I told the kid that how they had a big group of friends who met up once a year during acts or Comic Con San Diego. Kid was straight up starry-eyed and told me he wishes he knew people like that. That if he had friends like that he wouldn't have bipolar issues. In the end, I told the kid not to buy a gun, save up his money, and get the fuck out of Alaska. I swear, I've not had a happier customer, dude didn't even buy anything.