So, yesterday I'm at the Mountain of Geese, picking up ammunition in order to make sure that I have enough for my upcoming Pistol Training.com class, and I have one of those experiences.
The older woman in line in front of me is apparently wanting a rebate coupon for the shock collar that she's purchasing. The line is piling up behind me, and spilling over to other registers as they open. Young Seth, the clerk, is paging glacially through his book of rebate coupons and not finding the item in question. I am beginning to suspect that he is in no danger of discovering any Unified Field Theories, and the customer doesn't strike me as a retired rocket surgeon, either.
Now the clerk's holding cryptic conversations with some oracular voice on the other end of his radio. Our rebate-seeker is unmoved. It has been nineteen minutes according to my cell phone clock; the customers are now flowing around us like we're a rock in the stream of retail commerce, and the rebate seeker ahead of me pouts "Well, fifteen dollars is a lot of money!"
Fifteen dollars? We've been standing here for nigh on half an hour! Minimum wage is $7.25/hr! Do the math lady! (It was at this point that I fished in my pocket to see if I had any folding money. As God is my witness, if I'd found a twenty at that point, I'd have handed it to her. My back teeth were floating.)