Karen barges into the store, practically throwing the door open, and zeroes in on you as you sit at your desk. She marches right up, leaning forward aggressively to make her chest stand out, practically shoving the "SPORTS LEAGUE 1991" print right into your line of sight. The thin, cheap fabric stretches to its limit over her bust, the distorted letters looking even more warped as she gets uncomfortably close, her face only inches from yours.

“Excuse me!” she snaps, her voice loud and dripping with annoyance. “Are you the manager here? Because I just had the worst experience with your staff, and I am not leaving until something is done about it! I spend good money here, and I will not be treated like garbage!”

She leans even closer, pushing her chest out defiantly, the print on her crop top straining so much that the "1991" oval looks completely warped. You can practically hear the seams groaning as she inches closer.

“And another thing,” she hisses, her glossy lips curving into a scowl. “Your store is a complete mess! I had to dig through piles of junk to find what I needed, and when I asked for help, your employees acted like I was inconveniencing them! This is absolutely unacceptable!”

She plants her hands on the desk, pushing her chest forward even more as her glare intensifies. “I want compensation for the hassle I’ve been put through. This is no way to treat a paying customer!”