The job a person gets when they wake up every morning, put a gun to their head, but can never summon enough willpower to pull the trigger.
As I entered the store, I was approached by the walmart greeter. Our eyes met for only a moment, but it was enough to see the deep, painful hopelessness in his gaze. Whoever the person he used to be had died long ago, leaving a spent shell, an automaton. An emotionless drone pretending to be a human being. "Good morning." he said to me. In subtext he might as well have said "Please kind stranger, kill me and end my existence, for I have not the strength to do it myself." Pity stayed my hand, and I made a mental note to avoid Walmart at all cost.