Can't sleep, clowns will eat me.

When I’m strolling the streets or having a polite exchange in a public forum I feel as though I am an honest representation of myself.  I’m respectful, flirtatious, witty, polite, and wish the general population no ill will.  I enjoy conversing with random strangers when the situation calls for it and often make eye contact with passerby and offer up a smile.  But when I’m at work and dealing with customers who enter the store, something changes.  I’m a facade.  My smiles are fake, my lilt is forced, every answer to every inane and repetitive question barely suppresses my frustration.  Some people don’t notice, or don’t care, but occasionally I get the person who looks me straight in the eye and I see that they are silently calling me out on my illusion.  I am transparent and the beast within stares out with fiery red eyes and a toothy grin.