As you approached the cash register, the cashier, who was talking to a coworker and had his back turned to you, would sigh as the coworker pointed out your existence to him. "Hey, 'welcome' to Mickey's, what can I get for 'ya..?" He'd greet in possibly the most unenthusiastic tone in history. Your recognize him from school, his acne, his bored expression, his hatred for everyone but his handful of friends, his shoulder length, black hair. You knew him, not by name, but you've seen him around.