A Fashioned Supervisor

I took out a five dollar bill and handed it to the woman behind the counter. She took it from my hand without a word, or even eye contact, and put it in the cash register. The numbers came up on the computer.
"$2.30 is your change." The woman's voice is kind of hoarse, but I've heard worse. She dropped the coins in my hand. I'm very glad she refrains from actually handing me the change.
"Thanks. Take care." Certainly an automatic response. The costumer/clerk communication and overall interaction is fairly robotic in any store or given situaion.
"Have a great day." I would expect no less from this female clerk. I can only wonder what she may do with her life in the future. She seems to have a nice enough face. Perhaps something in politics, or guerilla warfare perhaps.
After walking out of the store, I immediately headed back home. This was my day. A day where anything goes so as long as I am at the centre of it all. Jesus, I even thought about calling my girlfriend. It's been two long weeks since we talked, and our last date didn't end very well. What the fuck, though, right? I was in a good mood. What did I have to lose?