open letter to bitchy Penny at Walmart

Open letter to Penny at my local Walmart: You, my dear, were just the supreme bitch extrordinaire today. Really, you outdid yourself. So, there we are, at about 5 o'clock on a Friday of the long weekend, and so yes, it's busy, and yes, it's 32 degrees outside, and yes, you want to go home. But you, dearest Pennina, wear the red blazer with the fancy nametag for a reason - you are supposed to be good, or a supervisor, or some such thing - anyway, you are supposed to be a step beyond the blue blazer. But honey, you sure as fuck weren't lemme tell you. Picture it, dear readers. My wife and I, and our middle child (straight from the Dr. with her forth throat infection in two months) are in Walmart with a pile of tooth brushes, toilet cleaner, Robert Munsch books, and whatever the hell else that fills up a cart to over 100 dollars of stuff, and we choose your till. Big mistake. You usually aren't the happiest crayon in the box, but you at least say something. Not today. Not a hello or a kiss my ass. No eye contact. No annoying "did you find everything" bullshit. Nope, just a snarly "$107.32" and the receipt literally thrown at us.
I know it may be a bad day. I have them too. But honey, that was way too rude. So fuck you, you old bitch. I might just take my business to Zellers next time - they might all be drug addicts who work there, and not have many teeth, but they will at least make eye contact.
And that is the rest of the story.