When I was in college, I frequented a cafeteria on campus, sometimes even getting breakfast there (which not many students did). There was a handful of cooks and cashiers there whom I came to recognize on sight, but I never learned their names or really said anything to them outside of my orders.
One morning, I was the only one to go to the cafe for breakfast. After I loaded up my tray, I rounded the corner to where the cash register was. There was the cashier (older than the other workers there, maybe in her late sixties) consoling one of the female cooks, who was bawling into her shoulder.
I didn't want to find out what would happen if I just barged in and asked the cashier to ring up my order, so I went back around the corner and waited a few minutes for things to blow over. But before I did, I was able to make out one sentence said by the cook: "And I saw that look in his eyes, like he wanted to kill me."
When I returned to the register, the cook was gone. The cashier remarked that she had seen me before and wondered where I went. I awkwardly muttered something about not wanting to interrupt. She suddenly became very warm towards me and thanked me.
I went back there for lunch the same day, and saw the same cashier. When she rang me up, she made small talk about what classes I was taking and whether I was looking forward to vacation.
In the weeks that followed, I saw the cook, who seemed fine and didn't seem to recognize me from the incident, though of course I doubt she noticed my presence then at all. I never found out any more about her, and wasn't the sort to ask.
Guy who had that look in his eyes: I'd kinda appreciate it if we never met.