Illustration by Bob AulYou were talking into your cell phone when you entered my shop. You were too busy with your call to even nod in my direction when I greeted you. When you went to make another call, you asked if I would turn off the softly playing classical music. When I told you I couldn't, you huffed and then made your call anyway, hollering into your tiny phone. The other customer and I could hear every word of your conversation. You then dropped your purchases onto my counter. When I asked you if you were ready to be rung up, you couldn't be bothered to acknowledge me. Upon being politely told your total, you practically flung your credit card at me, sighing as though I were bothering you. You were on your phone the entire time. As you left, I called out, “Have a nice day!” That's my way of saying, “Go fuck yourself, bitch. And next time, take your business—and your yapping pie hole—elsewhere.”
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