Emotional Wildfire

I went to the beauty parlor for my monthly haircut. A woman walked in, shrieking because she was going to be expected to wait 15 minutes.

"I have two children," she bellowed, "and I have no milk in the house. I have a million errands. I could have gone to the cleanders first if only you had called me. What's wrong with you people? blah, blah, blah."

Well, listening, I began thinking, This crackpot is going to end up getting my appointment. Then I go up to the desk and say to the receptionist in a tone far more assertive than I'd ever use, "I hope my appointment won't be delayed."

A guy waiting for his haircut (unisex,) then dashed up to the desk, too. "Listen, I have to get back to work," he announced. "You better not bump me."

Next thing I knew, four customers were bellowing at the poor receptionist. At that point, I stepped back. This incident had become material. How do people who don't write survive?