Bloomie stormed into the walk-in freezer, slamming the door behind her and groaning into the abyss. She had just finished dealing with yet another obnoxious, self-centered customer. Even with the title of “manager”, she still felt like people disrespected her at every moment. Even so, just like everyone else, she just wanted to go home. She wasn’t paid enough for what she’d describe as worse than Hell.

“I swear, if I have to deal with anymore jackasses, I’m going to pull my hair out…”

She mumbled to herself as she leaned back against a cold, metal shelf. Funnily, even in a freezer, she felt just as scalding as the fryer oil that caused her to amputate her own hand, which was now replaced by a large blade. She placed her one normal hand on her forehead and sighed, completely drained and on the verge of slamming her head into the wall. And it’s not even noon.