If you had actually been busy, I would have been more likely not to be taken aback by the fact that you were sending out clear and unmistakable "I hate you and hope you die" rays, presumably because I made you take out a stick of meat for me that you would then have to re-wrap and put back after slicing off 60 cents worth of meat, so it doesn't even seem worth it, but again, it is what you were being paid to do, and I was polite, as I always am, because I know that working in a service job can totally suck when people are demanding assholes, so I make it a point to say please and thank you sincerely. And, to boot, there was NO ONE ELSE around. There were hardly any customers at all in the whole store, so I guess my question is, WHY DO YOU HATE ME!?
Okay, maybe that is not fair. Maybe this was not actually about me. Perhaps you had terrible news before work and your stabbing hatred rays were residual. Perhaps I reminded you of the stunningly gorgeous women named Jolene, who took your man even though you begged her not to. Maybe pepperoni killed your cat. It seems feasible, but I just don't know. However, whatever the reason, I could tell you weren't happy, and I internalized it, and now I am unhappy too. It's probably a good thing I just have to write a blarg and I don't have to slice ridiculously small amounts of pepperoni for stupid jerkfaces, too.