Imagine if you will a scene straight out of ordinary, everyday life. The people involved could be your neighbors, your friends, your coworkers. It's a scene that happens every day during a certain time frame within the walls of simple buildings designed to serve a purpose for the working class of Humanity.
The lunch rush.
It is a well known span of time that involves long lines, and employees who scramble to assist hungry customers as swiftly as possible so that the common man and woman can seize a bite or two before returning to the drudgery of their work day.
But what happens within these walls is never ordinary, nor is it necessarily welcome to those who simply wish to continue on with their day. But it is an instance no one can ever truly escape from, for the victims have passed through the barrier into...
The Retail Hell Zone! [insert twilight zone theme song here]
It is, admittedly, the lunch rush when Mom and I sweep into a Togos for lunch. The scene is one of ordered chaos. Retail slaves whisk about, taking orders and preparing sandwiches with the fluid grace of long hours experience in just such a situation.
The lines are divided into two: those who have ordered, and those who have NOT. The distinction is clear for anyone and everyone with half a brain. ...You all know where this is going...
We're in no particular hurry, so we wait patiently in line, give our order and move to join the line of "have ordered."
We are happy in bliss land, minding our own business as we wait when suddenly an angry screech, reminiscent of an irate cockatoo, shatters the bustle of business. People jump as high as three feet in the air in surprise and whirl around to stare.
I reach slowly up, stick my fingers in my ears and wiggle them around to try to dispel the ringing echoes.
"EXCUSE ME! I was here before you were!"
I afford her a bland stare. "And? If you've already ordered, they'll still make it before they make ours."
"I've been waiting in line 20 minutes to be helped and I'm not about to let you cut in front of me." She snarls.
"Lady, this line is for people who already ordered, so nobody is going to take your order here. This is the pick up line. If you want to order, the line is over there." I afford her my best stare of disdain.
Her eyes widen, and of course, instead of allowing for her mistake, she whirls on the retails slaves and screeches at them. "I've been waiting 20 minutes for assistance and you've been ignoring me!"
As per usual when efficiency is disrupted by a wild raging bitch, it takes a bit of shuffling of staff before someone separates to approach.
"I'm so sorry ma'am, what would you like?" The poor guy has taken the short straw and has to look and sound apologetic for her fuck up.
She's angry and rails at him in between demands for her sandwich and a discount.
"Hey bitch! If you followed the signs, you would already have your food! Leave the poor guy alone. It's not his fault that you fucked up." A guy intervenes before I do.
"You never got in line in the first place, so now you're cutting in front of all of us!" Another lady yells.
The Hag looks freaked as several angry people yell at her, and she flees, clutching her sandwich.
May all your customers be nice,