Hi there.

I’m the pimply, tattooed teenager at your local outlet mall.  I work at the register with the monkey on it; that’s right, the one all the way down at the far end.  I’m sorry frogs are your favorite animal.  Unfortunately, that’s not my register.  “You’re right; there should be a sign up showing that that register is closed.  Thank you for your patience.” 

…Except not.  That till isn’t closed.  But that’s not my till.  It’s hers.  If you want me to check you out- which I recommend, since there’s no one else out here- then please come around to this far end. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have that model anymore.  Can I help you look for something similar?”

Actually, we never carried that brand.  I’m not sure where you got that idea, but that brand ceased to exist over thirty years ago.  Actually, you guessed it.  I took them all off the shelves mere seconds before you entered the store.  I’m just hiding them from you now.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t find anything that fit today.”

What I’m even sorrier for is that you had to try on half of our inventory first.  Gosh, it’s so hard to understand how you couldn’t find a bra that was soft yet firm, which held you in place without wire, with a smooth, form cup but no padding.  In pink.  Please just kill me next time.  I promise you it would be much easier.

“I’m really sorry you had so much trouble today.  Thank you for waiting so patiently.  You have been very polite”.

I really don’t know what you were looking for, but it’s not sold in any store.  Thank you for leaving without causing any bodily harm.  I’m sorry I can’t welcome you back again, but our insurance isn’t high enough.