Why me?

Someone had a real go at me while I was at work in the supermarket last night. He called me an oily fat bastard and said I deserved to be boiled in my own blood, and various other horrible things.
I said “Dave – you’re my boss and I respect you, but can we have this conversation away from the shop floor please?”
Just my little joke, there..
Actually, someone did have a go at me. It was 2am and he was drunk and asked me where the whiskey aisle was. When I explained the licensing laws and told him he couldn’t buy any alcohol until 6am he flipped out and tried to belt me round the head with a margarine tub. Luckily he fell flat on his face asleep before he reached me, but it left me unsettled and I took the managers offer of a three-hour lunch break ‘to calm my nerves.’ I do seem to excite extreme feelings in people. Not passion or lust, obviously, but this isn’t the first time I’ve felt the force of someones misplaced anger. Just call me ‘The Punchbag.’ Or ‘The One Who Gets It Whenever Someone Needs A Whipping Boy.’ Actually ‘Punchbag’ is a lot snappier…
Anyway the drunk is banned from the shop, and I now have a whistle to summon security if it happens again. Next time I’ll shove him face first into the vegetable freezer and leave him there til his liver rots him to death.
Bastard.

RC 17-2-09
1942 GMT