Okay, listen Mr. I-Have-the-Voice-of-a-Twelve-Year-Old-so-I-Must-Compensate-by-Making-Everyone's-Life-Miserable, I work in softlines now. S-O-F-T-L-I-N-E-S. I fought tooth and nail to LEAVE the front end since November, and now finally the only reason they let me escape was for mental health reasons. I'm not about to go rushing back there so I can have customers bitch and complain at me and making my mental dysfunctions worse.
Oh, and guess what? You're making it worse. Take your girl scout cookies and get the HELL out of my face.