What I Really Said vs. What I Should Have Said

"Hey, Boss."
I look up from my mountain of work, annoyed. I smile anyway.
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm here to fix the copy machine, Boss."
You're a fat dipshit. Why are you calling me Boss? "Sure. Let me take you to it."
I stand, he walks toward me, leans in close.
"Oh Boss! You're picture is beautiful."
I look down at my name tag with my miniscule, smiling face grinning from it, and surreptitiously flip it over so he cannot see it.
I wanna rip off your package. Or at the very least, knee you a good one in the groin. "Oh, thanks. That's so nice of you to say."
I lead him through the myriad of cubicles and hallways at my office, and gratefully leave him at the copy machine. I return to my desk, my huge pile of work.
Thirty or so minutes later he's back.
I notice him walk back in, but I pretend not to notice him anyway.
"Hey Boss, I can see you're very busy, but can you spare a teensy weensy minute for me so that you can sign this work order for me?" He grins his yellow, coffee stained smile at me.
You're the ugliest piece of crap I've ever seen. "Of course."
I reach for his pen, and just as my fingers are about to take it, he lets it slyly fall to the ground.
"Woops, Boss, my bad. I can be clumsy sometimes."
I bend over to pick it up, and I can feel his searching, greedy, probing eyes all over me.
I straighten up and sign the work order. I don't smile this time.
Go eat shit you sicko. You're a fat nasty bastard and I hate you. "It's fine. See ya later."
He grins, and finally leaves.
"You're a jerk, and I don't deserve to be treated that way!" And I say it. He doesn't hear, but at least I say it. A few minutes too late, but still. At least I say it.