Precision Image Calculation

See the thing about service economy jobs is that facing the public is like wading into tide. You face a celestial capacity force of human emotions that only let up when the doors of the store close. In my small space behind the register at work I face torture like a caged X-Man at the hands of Magneto or Apocalypse or something. Bourgeois fucktards green-washing their self-indulgence with organic junk food. Insecure fat middle-aged men talking on cell phones in an attempt to feel important. Crappy parents abusing their kids without even trying. Mental energy is extinguished and by the evening's end and I lay there, torn spandex jump-suit, waiting to recuperate. Sometimes I team up with a friend at work and we combine our powers of controlling the situation and spreading cheer. But it's hard work and the world is full of sour, sour people.