If there was ever a Job that I wouldn't be able to handle, it would have to be the position of a Cashier. This has popped into my Mind, when I was the next person in line, at Safeway, Yesterday. The Hells Angel in front of me spoke with a bit of a Southern Accent and everybody here knows about my Accent. The Cashier served the man who was in front of me, than it was her turn to serve me. When I've told her my Phone#, in order to get a discount, she thought that the first number was four, instead of five. Than I've had a dream that I was working there, as a Cashier. I've had to serve five very different people with five very different Accents, in a row. I didn't understand any of their Accents, and neither of them understood me, either. One of them even had the gall to sneer, "Go back to London, where you were born!" Since it's hard to convince people that I'm Canadian, in real life, I've told that Old Lady, "You're right! I should move back to London!" I'm never working in a Supermarket. The fact that I have Breasts would be enough for some Idiot of a Boss to put me on Cash.