Break-neck Speed

A manager intercepts me on the floor, stepping right in front of me with his arms crossed.

Manager: “Shouldn’t your break be over by now?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “So why are you not at your station?”

Me: “Where, exactly, do you think I’m going?”

I then stepped around the manager to my workstation, five feet behind them, which they had been physically blocking me from getting to, to interrogate me.

I wasn’t even late coming back from my break; the manager just felt that I should teleport instantly from the breakroom to my station, and the time lost walking from point A to point B was unacceptable tardiness.