Mine tend to be more amusing than frustrating. Two seasons ago, for example, I needed a small game license, and found myself at the sporting goods counter of a central Pennsylvania Wal-Mart. My boyfriend, who doesn’t hunt, was running his own errands elsewhere in the store. When I got to the counter, there were 2 employees behind it waiting on 2 customers, one was a shorter gentleman in a personalized Miss Saigon jacket; his friend was about 6’ 4”, with earrings, a goatee, a black fedora, and a black floor-length leather coat. I waited awhile before politely trying to get the attention of the employee who seemed less engaged in the sale. But both clerks were totally focused on this pair who looked to be buying a .22.