You come up to the counter. I had stepped away for just enough time to hit "next" on my iPod. I turn around and you're trying to peak into my back room.
"Hello!?" you say, desperation in your voice.
It took me all of 4.5 seconds to walk to the back room, hit "next," and walk back to the counter.
You order a large Orange Julius. The total it $3.91 and you hand me a debit card. You roll your eyes when I ask you for ID even though there is no signature on your card.
It took longer to run your card than it did to advance a song on my iPod.
Lets put things in perspective.
I don't think that the extra 4.5 seconds you had to wait for your Orange Julius hurt you. I think that you're going to survive. Maybe with a little therapy the trauma from my extreme neglect of my duties will be repaired and you'll be able to return to living a normal life, free of phobias and emotional baggage from the "horrible monster at Dairy Queen."
We can only hope, and I pray for you every night.