It’s 7:54. 6 minutes before the end of your shift, the first day off in 8 straight days. Dead tired from this 12-hour shift you’re mindlessly approving your employee’s timecards on your computer. Each click reminding you of each second passing until you can finally relax.
“Hey John,” your radio buzzes.
*Dammit.*
“Yes?”
“There’s… uh… someone here who is upset about our mask policy. Could you please talk to her?”
*Another one.*
“Sure, direct her to my office.”
You close out of the last timecard and stand up, taking a deep breath to deal with another argument you’ve had 1,000 times during these past 8 days. You open the office door and there she is, like always, with that menacing scowl and stupid bob. The same dumb bob that reminds you of a bully from middle school whose parents couldn’t figure out how to get him a proper haircut.
“Hello, Ma’am. I’m John, the manager of this Kohl’s. What seems to be the issue today?”
*Blah blah blah*
“I’m terribly sorry about your inconvenience, but we need to follow corporate policy,” you say calmly, as you’ve had to do over and over and over again for months.