Oh, and keep clicking guys!
She snidely asked why I wasn't reorganizing our very unpopular candle section, and pointed out that I had flipped the envelopes the exact opposite way they were meant to go according to Hallmark tradition and 'customer ease'. I wanted to say something to get her off my ass so badly that I accidentally muttered a bit out loud, and she swerved to face me, nearly knocking me over with her surgically attached moonscape. I then saw the second most terrifying thing in my life (the first being a rapid dog trying to tear my arm off), a woman both angry and embarrassed.
I don't know what kind of chemical reactions take place within the female body and I never intend to find out, but what I saw was nothing like what they told me in chemistry class or health and wellness. She stomped and as the ground quaked she erupted.
Her red hair flew upward like lava spewing from a volcano (who I now refer to as her nicer sibling) as she verbally abused me, insulting my work ethics, incompatibility with the store's atmosphere, and overall inadequacy as a man. She destroyed me thoroughly and utterly, and to this day I remember how empty the store was because all the customers had managed to escape the danger by fleeing elsewhere. She even steamed. From her ears.
And so it was that my luckily short and, sadly, very revealing time at Hallmark ended. As I picked up my things and walked out the door, I turned and said to the barely walking time-bomb:
“Thank you for your time.”
What? Expected anger?
I'm the guy who worked at Hallmark.