sick.

The plague has taken over the trade department. Everyone is sick. People are calling in left and right, and the people that actually made it to work are sniffling and coughing.
Today was not a fun day. I had to duck into my closet every five minutes to blow my nose and then run over to the cafe to wash my hands. Rinse, repeat.
Needless to say, at 8:45pm, I was not looking too sharp. I was tired, hungry, and my nose was red from using napkins after I went through a box of tissues. A customer on the phone asked me to check on a couple magazines. I went around the corner, searched high and low, then walked back to my register, where I found four people waiting to check out. The first girl in line (someone who had already bothered me earlier in the day by swearing we had a "3 for $10" Nora Roberts promotion) said, as I was slogging my way back to the register, "Are you working here? We've been waiting FOREVER!"
As I'd been gone for about 90 seconds, tops, this comment irked me. Like, um, wait your fucking turn, okay?
"Sorry, I was assisting another customer and couldn't be at the register," I mumble. I chuck the magazines in the back, pause to disengage the mile of snot trailing from my nose, and reappear five seconds later.
"You don't look like you're very happy to be here."
Okay. Don't say things like this. It's bitchy and moronic. I'm sick. I have my period. I've had ONE day off in the past 13 days. Don't fuck with me.
"Well, I'm sick. I'm doing the best I can."
"Well," this bitch snots, "you shouldn't take it out on your customers."
I'm not sure how I'm taking anything out on my customers? I wasn't standing behind the desk because I WAS HELPING SOMEONE ELSE.
"Well," I say, "I've yet to learn how to be in two places similtaneously, so I'm not sure why you're mad?"
"You shouldn't make us wait. And you shouldn't be rude."
Oh, I'm sorry, you wanted a SERVANT.
I hand her the bag, fasten a huge smile on my face and say, "You have a wonderful night now!"

I thought that was the end of her, but five minutes later she brought up a pair of pants and asked for a price check. When I quote the price, she says, "I don't want these...I'll just leave them right...here" and tosses them on a pile of books and walks away.

Did that make you feel better, bitchface? Is picking on a sick, tired girl your idea of fun? Cause seriously? Not having it.