"Bertha, please take over." She felt an uplifting elation as her supervisor's words finally sunk in and realized what she had been asked to do. In her nine monotonous years of employment as a lowly checkout clerk in this grand and powerful monopoly that is Target, she had never once been esteemed to be more than the dirt on one's shoes. Perhaps this was the hour that her noted loyalty and hard work pays off. She switched her station off and quickly assumed the position on the floor away from her checkout lane that she had now recognized to be her second home. Was that the last time that I set foot in that nest? She pushed her debilitating thoughts aside looking forward to the task she had been assigned. Looks like I will be calling the shots now. She thought to herself smirking as she had already paced four lanes away from her booth. She noticed the stares of her fellow colleagues. Contemptuous pricks. I will show you rats to ever cross me again. The look they returned was that of poisonous jealousy. She felt it, as she had felt two years ago when this vacant position was turned over to her current supervisor (then colleague of six measly months). As she rounded her way back, she lost herself in the prospect of finally being able to bear pleasant tidings as she returned home to her children. Her kids will finally look up to her as something, someone. They will see her as a figure that they had once saw her, but was lost in the growing pains of adolescence. The accompanied raise with the position will bring much more comfortable breathing room in her financially tight situation at home. She will be able to make progress towards her boundless debt. She will be able to pay her monthly bills on time and... "Thank you Bertha, you may return to your lane." Her heart sank with those words. She had almost wished him dead and never return. As she turned around and made her way back to her booth, she reminded herself to pick up the 2L bottle of bleach later...