I'M an obnoxious, sarcastic so and so. I know this. Fortunately, you'll be pleased to hear I'm getting regular therapy. Even better, I'm getting it for free.
At the supermarket.
If you find yourself blessed with a similarly flawed character, salvation awaits – at the tills.
While to the untrained eye, it looks like I'm simply doing a bit of grocery shopping, really, I'm undergoing role play.
During this interlude, I become docile and pleasant and for those precious moments, the world's a nicer place.
Thank you checkout operators, I owe you a debt greater than just the amount I'm paying for my goods.
Here's the science: as your items get beeped through, each one receives a little comment from the till person. "Oh, that's a nice duster", "Those stock cubes are smashing, aren't they?", that sort of thing.
Not for one minute do I believe the staffers are compelled, in a moment of clarity, to utter these thoughts out loud. They're under orders from head office to make each customer feel special and bestowed with the most excellent taste.
I love those blissful minutes of serenity. Yes, this kitchen roll truly is excellent. These pineapple chunks really will be perfect with cheese on cocktail sticks. Everything at that precise moment, is just fine.
"Did you find everything you were looking for, today?" they enquire. Where before, I'd be a seething avalanche of sarcasm, now, I can smile and simply say "Yes, thank you".
I'm playing the game and gaining all the Stepford-wife-worthy, blood-pressure calming benefits. Give it a go, hotheads out there!
Yes, I'm directing this week's column at YOU, rude man in the grey fleece at Sainsbury's. I know you're reading this – you were buying the Post.
Why did you make the forced chumminess over your olives so excruciating, both for you and the girl serving you?
The world around us is getting more and more impersonal and internet-shopping based. So, what's a little human interaction over one's purchases?
I feel for the assistants who, come rain or shine, have to be chirpy, with a conveyor belt of constant chat. Day in, day out.
You try to say something positive about someone buying a jumbo pack of loo rolls and some prunes? Where would you begin?
And who, outside of Disney employees, can be smiley and happy every hour of every day?
Give them a break, I say. They're not in the market for sarcasm.
If you're lucky, you might even get some of the intuitive sympathy from the man who rang through my tomato juice, Tabasco, Pot Noodle and paracetamol, commenting: "Hungover, are we?"
He was spot on.
Such Zen-like brilliance would be wasted on Mr Grumpy Fleece at Castle Marina. He's missing out on this smart-price small talk.
Still don't like the chat? Then I have a strategy: make a name badge like the staff have: "Hello, my name is Derek and I'm in a bad mood". Or: "Hello, I'm Barbara and I haven't been polite since 2008."
Or, you could just write to the CEO and have a go at them instead of being mean to the person behind the till?
Even better, join me, going mild in the aisles. Shelve the sarcasm – you might get more than you bargained for. Have a nice day, now.