The Tyranny of Retail

People are obsessed over how busy the department store is. They ask questions, a fevered panic in their eyes as they mop their brows:
"Is it busy?"
"Not really."
"Has it been busy?"
"Not really."
"Is it going to be busy?"
"Probably."
Everyone is scared they may have to queue, or that they may have to stand in close proximity to fellow human beings for more than a minute. The customers that are present approach the tills with trollies so laden that it takes a good ten minutes to unload them onto the conveyor belt. They watch the screen with hungry eyes, noting each price, quick to shout if they think that someone (i.e. me) is taking advantage/ripping them off/sacrificing their first-born. But the worst thing is the fact that everybody is so pissed off:
"God," they all say. "I can't believe we have to do this for Christmas." Yes, we all simply have to. Otherwise we are not human, but mere vermin spreading Humbug and Filth wherever we go. Their bad moods continue so they are so consumed by themselves that the outside world does not exist. They talk but don't listen. I can say absolutely anything and nobody bats an eyelid. Recent examples include:
1. When a customer mentions Waitrose and then jokes, "Whoops I can't mention that name in here, can I?", the only civilised reply can be, "Don't worry, one corporate monster is the same as another." But no reaction can be registered.
2. It was rather hot, and I began taking off my sweatshirt (polyester, makes hair stand on end). As the customer stood gawping, looking annoyed at the delay I said, "Feel free to put a dollar bill in my g-string." Not even a blink. The customer just moved down to the end to consume plastic bags as if they were just another meal.
3. A customer accuses me (rightfully) of looking bored. The reply: "This place is the enemy of merry living." Again the blank face of down-to-business Visa card waving.

But despite all of this I am disgusted with myself. I had a performance review, and somehow I managed to score 100%. I have been at least ten minutes late everyday (believing it to be my sacred duty), I haven't been shaving too regularly and last week I forgot to wash my uniform which consists of one pair of trousers (polyester, make nuts feel like an electricity pylon), two t-shirts (polyester, clingy like an eighties football strip), one fleece/sweatshirt (polyester, unisex so there is lots of baggy, electrified material around my pigeon chest). Considering I am in every day, then this really isn't enough to remain fresh. But 100% in a retail performance review should be viewed as one of the lowest crimes against humanity. I have been questioning myself: Have I submitted to the machine? When did this happen? What if this is my gift, my vocation? Good God, all answers are bleak, and I felt it was the only decent thing to hand in my notice. I am, once again, heading for unemployment, but anything is better than this...