I apologize if your order wasn't made correctly. I'm sorry if delivery took a little longer than anticipated. All you have to do is calmly explain your issue, and it will be resolved. But I beg of you to not displace your frustrations from your life onto me. I am not your therapist nor a counselor: I am paid little more than minimum wage to provide a small service for you. My life is stressful enough without your unsolicited verbal lashing.
I wish you'd see me as a human, living and breathing flesh and blood with feelings, but I know that all I am to you is a uniformed robot behind the counter. I think if you were forced to see me as I really am, you wouldn't treat me like the mud caked onto your shoes that you're currently tracking in. You wouldn't dismiss me as low class, uneducated white trash. But you regard me as a nonperson because it's easier that way.
I work here because I get a paycheck that allows me to survive. Unlike the surly teenagers that work here, I actually pretend to care about my job in hopes of a small future raise and perhaps a promotion, though the former is a more realistic possibility. So you see, this job means a lot to me. The least you could do is pretend I matter.
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