Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

So. It was almost my last day in the Lingerie Department. I'd originally been scheduled to be in training ("Selling is service!") half the day and on the sales floor the other half. However, I'd traded shifts with my manager's permission, and wasn't going to the training (why bother since I was almost at the end of the job?).

As I was heading down one of the maze-like staircases in the back halls of the store, I passed the HR manager, a petite gay Asian man who had been all smiles and compliments when I was hired. He wouldn't even make eye contact with me when I put my resignation in.

"Hi!" I said cheerfully (I was, after all, going on my break, the House had passed the health care bill, and all was pretty darn good in my world).

"Hi," he said. Then he realized whom he was talking to. His smile deadened.

"How are you?" I said politely.

"Great," he replied, then mumbled under his breath, "fuck you very much."

Nice! I love the attitude, actually. Score one for the bitchy HR guy.