Dilbert: Im getting performance anxiety at the automated teller machine.
I feel the impatient glare of the stranger behind me.
I try to prove competent by speeding through the menus.
Good Lord, I hit the mandarin chinese language option.
Oh no! I think I transferred my life savings to the "United way"
Great...now his truck eyeballs are stuck to the back of my neck.
This is exactly why I hate going to the automated teller.
Dogbert: I think a little "visine" would make him slide right off.
Dilbert: There was a time I could afford that...
Waiter: Here are your french fries. Dilbert: Gaaaa!!! I have no salt. Waiter: I will bring the salt right away. Dilbert: No, you won't. This isn't my first time eating out! You say you will bring salt, but you will be distracted by another table. I will sit here in anger while I watch you do things that do not involve bringing me salt. As the temperature of my fries drops, my cortisol levels will increase. In five minutes I will hate your guts and this restaurant, too. I also need ketchup. Waiter: That will take a little longer.