I was tending bar in Milwaukee, back in the mid-eighties, when a punk with a bloody chef's knife came behind the bar. I pulled my .38 and put the front blade right between his eyes. He was less than 10 feet away, at this point. I told him "If you take one more step; you're a dead man. Now put down the knife." He dropped the knife, and lived another day. Meanwhile, my boss hearing the commotion, came out from his back office. He thought I should've shot the guy, without giving him a warning, and that I would have been totally justified. I'm just glad that I didn't have to pull the trigger.