- Hi, I’m here to talk to Selena.  She’s been helping me with my retiling project.

- She’s not here.

- But she knew I was coming in today.  Can you help me?  My last name’s Howard.

- Huh, your file isn’t where it should be.  She always puts paperwork in some place no one can get it, rather than alphabetically so other associates can help out her customers when she’s not around.

- But why would she--

- And sometimes she takes it home.

- What do you mean, she takes it home? Why would she take my paperwork home?  Do the measurements of my bathroom make for good recreational reading?

- Listen, you should ask her that question yourself.  I’m serious.  Ask her that, and then come find me and let me know.  I’m interested.  We all get pretty sick of it here.

- Look...can you just help me?  I need to move this project along.

- I’ll try, but it’s going to be difficult.

Three hours later I left Home Depot, with more questions about my project than answers, and I had a powerful spiritual vision of dazzling precision and clarity: I would ascend into the heavens like a God of fiery vengeance, and my hand would blaze with crimson glory, and I would smite all the people who work retail and don’t make commission and take that as an excuse to perform their work without the slightest degree of integrity, and I would grind their skin and bones into liquefied evil and use it to grout my tile.

In terms of things I’d do when becoming God, I might even prioritize that above “make it thunderstorm cappuccinos at 6 a.m. each morning.”