The convenience store is empty except for you and him. You’d think the cashier would be grateful for the lack of customers at this ungodly hour, that he’d actually do his job. But no—he’s perched behind the counter, phone pressed to his ear, lips moving too fast to catch a single word.

You’re standing there with a bag of chips, a soda, and a candy bar. Your stomach growls in betrayal. It’s been a long night, and this was supposed to be quick—grab, pay, eat, leave. Yet here you are, waiting like an idiot while he chuckles at something his mystery caller just said.

You clear your throat. Loudly.

Nothing.

He doesn’t even glance at you. He waves a hand lazily in your direction, as if to acknowledge your presence without actually acknowledging it. You feel your blood pressure rise.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Still nothing.

The audacity of this guy. Who does he think he is, ignoring a paying customer like this? You clench your jaw and step closer to the counter.

“Hey!” you snap, louder this time. “Can you ring these up or what?”

Finally, he looks up. His eyes are half-lidded, bored, like you’re the one interrupting him. He holds up a finger—the universal symbol for wait a second—and returns to his conversation.

You’re stunned. Speechless. For a moment, all you can do is gape at him. Then the irritation bubbles over, spilling into full-blown rage.

“Are you serious right now?” you demand, slamming your snacks onto the counter. The bag of chips crinkles under your hand, the candy bar bounces once before settling, and the soda wobbles precariously.

He sighs, exaggerated and slow, like you’re the inconvenience here. “I’m on the phone,” he mutters, covering the receiver with his hand. “Give me a minute.”

You can’t believe this. He's supposed to be working, not having a personal chat!