Is there any particular gut feeling that a small shop owner gets when he looks at the people in his store and thinks: “Something is not quite right here?” Or, does he have little time for that? Well, it depends, I suppose, on where the store is located.

In a neighbourhood where three attempts at hold-up and robbery have already been attempted, the thought is probably uppermost on every small store owner’s mind. They’re probably scrutinising every customer and thinking: “It’s got to be him. I’ve got to be on guard. Keep my finger near the emergency button.” Or something to that effect. Alternatively, the store owner could begin to think that since two crimes have been committed in the same vicinity, the perpetrator would desist from another attempt and probably shift base to another suburb, if indeed serial holdup-and-robbery is on his agenda. This line of thinking may have been adopted by the young store owner tending his wares in a small town where two owners had already been caught unawares and forced to empty their tills. It may not have even been on his mind. For we all know lightning may occasionally strike twice. But three times?

In this case, the perpetrator’s line of thinking must have been: “Hey, I’m getting away with this. Two attempts. Twice successful. Quick in and out. Easy money. Let’s do it again!” And so, CCTV footage shows him in a hooded jumper enter the store. A hooded jumper on a rather warm late spring day is in itself reason to put one on guard. The hooded man walks up to the counter, opens his bag and pulls out a weapon. It’s not a gun or even a knife. It is, however, just as threatening. It is a solid metal meat tenderiser. Granted it may not kill instantly, but it could deal the skull a crushing blow.

The shopkeeper — we discover he is not the owner, just a student on a work visa tending the shop — pleads with the man wielding the tenderiser.

“I’m just a student,” he says.

The criminal — impatient as all criminals are — hasn’t obviously come in to hear details of the shopkeeper’s educational history. He’s after all a man in need of money and more money. He’s not here to review a resume or conduct a job interview. The only job he needs done is for the shopkeeper to open his till and hand over the money inside. Then he’s away. Three successes in three attempts.

And that’s how, one assumes, the desire to set and break records takes place. After three, there’d surely be four, and five and six. A desperately pleading shopkeeper, one who looks like he’s on the verge of tears, makes the heist seem all the more easy.

It’s easy in these circumstances to lower one’s own guard. To get closer than required. To relax one’s hold on things. Especially a threatening weapon.

Proximity in the face of a threat can produce one of two results: The one threatened can turn and flee; or rear up and confront. The latter action is not what the criminal would have been expecting.

But that is what happened.

In the blink of an eye, the weapon is in the shopkeeper’s hand and the perpetrator’s head held firmly in a strong arm lock. A brief struggle ensues, but it is one-sided for the criminal doesn’t look like he’s taken lessons in combat or self-defence.

Still he struggles but in vain. The arm-locked duo spill out on to the street where soon passersby twig on to what’s happening and jump on the criminal as well, holding him down until the police arrive.

It’s a nice story of bravery only because it ended well. It may have had a sorrier ending. But the kernel of courage is contained in that split-second decision to act even when enveloped by fear — whether it ends up being deemed rational or irrational.

Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney, Australia.