It’s a week before Christmas and I’m working outdates in the candy aisle at Walgreens. I’m seven and a half hours into an eight-hour shift. My feet hurt and a recent interaction with a disgruntled customer has put me in a mood. I glance at the clock and urge the minute hand to move faster, but it creeps along like it’s stuck in traffic. I’m sorting through the chocolate bars when someone walks up beside me…