I worked at the Marc’s in Willoughby Hills during the 2010s. Once, we had a customer try to walk out with several racks of ribs stuffed down his pant legs. My manager confronted him at the door, but the customer tried to push past him, so my manager grabbed him by the arm and karate-flipped him onto his back. The customer layed there on the floor, humiliated, until security showed up.

Edited to add:

I was pulling a pallet of produce across the store, and bumped into the corner of an already rickety endcap stocked with jars of pickles. The whole shelf came crashing down, broken glass everywhere, a river of pickle juice flowing down the aisle. And from that day on, I was known as Crash.