There’s a music and DVD store I frequent where I have some great chats with members of staff about upcoming movies and so on. I’ve been asking [Employee #1] and [Employee #2] about the “Watchmen” TV series, and the conversation had moved on to “Swamp Thing,” a plant-like creature in the DC Universe.

Me: “I remember listening to an interview with Alan Moore about how he was given that writing job.”

Employee #1: “So, you’re going to take us back to Swamp Thing’s roots?”

Me: “Oh, very good!”

[Employee #2] put his head in his hands, slumped over the till, and muttered, “Oh, God.”  He lifted his head toward me.

Employee #2: “Please don’t get him started. He’ll never stop.”

Employee #1: “I suppose I should leaf it?”

Me: “Should I apologise for planting the seed of these puns?”

Employee #1: “He finds them a blooming nuisance.”

Employee #2: “Ugh! Stop it!”

Me: “Hey, I like a good bit of pun tennis.”

[Employee #2] nodded toward [Employee #1].

Employee #2: “So does he.”

Employee #1: “The other day it was literal pun tennis. I was texting him non-stop tennis puns. I just served him one after the other.”

Me: “There was no letup?”

Employee #1: “Ace! He didn’t love any of the set and didn’t want to join in the game.”

Employee #2: “No more!”

[Employee #1] then turned toward [Employee #2].

Employee #1: “Have you got one?”

When he didn’t reply, I said:

Me: “Maybe we should leave him a lawn?”

Employee #2: “I’m not joining in… Clay off!”

[Employee #1] and I gave him a little cheer!

I’m shopping in this family-run record store. The sweet old guy who normally runs it is in hospital. While the service sucks now, I still try to make the effort to go there first before shopping online.

No sooner do I step in the store than I get barged forcefully to one side by a guy running with armfuls of CDs. I turn to see him get into a waiting car and crash his way out of the car park.

I’m pretty shocked to see the member of staff on duty not even looking up.

Me: “That guy just hit me and ran out the store. I’m guessing he stole all those CDs.”

The worker stares at me blankly.

Me: “You’re not going to call the police or ask me for his licence plate?”

Worker: “They don’t pay me to care.”

Me: “Wow. Well, I doubt the owner of that Fiesta shares your sentiment.”

Worker: “What?!”

He ran outside — just short of pushing me out of the way, too! The thief had hit the corner of his car. It looked pretty bad; the wheel was bent at a weird angle. The worker wouldn’t be driving that car any time soon.

Suddenly, he wanted to hear what I had to say, and as tempted as I was to tell him that he didn’t pay me to care, I told him to call the police and figure out what was missing (several times) if he wanted me to make a statement.

The old guy who runs the shop got out of hospital and made a full recovery. The worker was his nephew, and he nearly ran the place into the ground. The store slowly got back to where it had been before when people heard the old guy was back running the store.

Back in the mid-1980s, I work at a chain record store that sells records, tapes, T-shirts, and other music-related items. One day, I am standing at the front register waiting for customers to check out, and in walks a very angry-looking man.

He tosses two 45 RPM records on the counter.

Customer: “I want to return these.”

I look down at the two 45s and notice that they are warped. And when I say, “warped,” I mean that they have more waves than Farrah Fawcett’s hair. These 45s put Shirley Temple to shame. It is summer, so it is pretty obvious that these records were left in the man’s car all day.

Me: “Sir, we can’t take these back; they’ve obviously been damaged by the sun.”

I kid you not, he looks me square in the eyes and says:

Customer: “I didn’t do a thing to them. They were this way when I bought them! Now I want a refund!”

Me: *Dumbfounded* “You actually bought them like that?”

He has the presence of mind to look embarrassed but recovers quickly and asks to speak to our manager. I call over to the assistant manager on duty and start to explain the issue. The customer interrupts.

Customer: “I want to return these, but your employee here won’t help me.”

The assistant manager is an imposing guy with a no-nonsense attitude. I fully expect him to kick this poor, delusional soul out of the store, but he surprises me.

Assistant Manager: “Okay.”

Honestly, to say I am surprised is an understatement; I am shocked! [Assistant Manager] comes around the counter to the register, processes the return, and throws the 45s in our return box.

Assistant Manager: “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Customer: *Smiling smugly* “I don’t know if I’ll be back here anymore if y’all hire people like her.”

Assistant Manager: “That will be fine, sir. We don’t want to deal with any more warped records, either.”

The man just huffs and walks out of the store.

Assistant Manager: *To me* “Better to return $2 worth of merchandise than to lose a good customer, but I think in this case we got the short end of the deal.”

Many years ago, I was shopping in a music store. I found two albums I liked and went to the counter to pay. He gave me my total and I finished writing my check. He took it and put it in the cash register.

Me: “Do you need to see my driver’s license?”

Cashier: “No, people who buy classical music don’t bounce checks.”

I’m working in a music shop in the early 1970s.

Customer: “Have you got Leonardo, by Donovan?”

Me: “Not sure I’ve heard of that one.”

I hunt through the catalogue.

Me: “Nope, we don’t appear to have that one.”

Customer: “But it’s famous! I heard it on the radio just now!”

Me: “Nope, sorry. Are you sure you’ve got the name right?”

Customer: “Of course, I’m sure! It’s about the famous painter Leonardo da Vinci. He killed himself.”

Me: “Um, how does it go?”

Customer: “I don’t know! I just heard it on the radio. It’s about that famous painter who killed himself. It’s a really famous song!”

Me: “Does it go, ‘Starry, starry night…'”

Customer: “Yes! That’s the one! Leonardo by Donovan!”

Me: “Ah, here we are. Vincent, by Don McLean. 45p, please.”