I have worked retail, and fallen in love countless times. With customers and staff; equal opportunity, me. Retail makes one remarkably receptive, not only to the anger and frustration areas of the brain, but by its very vacuousness and dangerous purposelessness retail work seems to fire up the centres of ardor. (Please remember, that I am no psychologist)
Just so you know, I met my wife through work, as my father did. Yes, I realize that the sentence sounds like my father met my wife through work. Yes, very droll. Please read on for clarification.
My father actually hired my mother as a receptionist (they called them something else back then, no doubt pejoratively) and history was made. You see, proof in the pudding that somehow mindless, stupid work aligns the stars and creates lasting relationships.
My father later fired her and as a punishment she married him. (boom tish)