He’ll Get It Slower Than A Speeding Bullet

(I am working the firearm counter at a well known sporting goods store. It is early in the morning, so I’m cleaning the cases when a man approaches.)

Man: “Hey, honey. You got anyone working at these here guns?”

(I assume he thinks I’m maintenance since I’m cleaning.)

Me: “Yes, sir, I am. What can I help with today?”

Man: *guffaw* “No, honey. I need someone who can sell me one’a these here guns.”

Me: “Yes, sir, I am certified to do that. What were you interested in?”

Man: *looks visibly uncomfortable* “You ain’t got nobody else here?”

Me: “No. We usually only have the one person in the morning. Can I help you with something?”

Man: “I need a .22.”

Me: “We have several in stock of different manufacturers.”

Man: “I’m looking for a .22, honey. It’s a rifle.”

Me: *becoming annoyed* “Yes, I know. Which manufacturer or model are you interested in?”

Man: “I’ll just come back by when y’all got someone working who knows what I’m lookin’ fer.”

Me: “Sir, none of our employees are telepathic. If you don’t know what you want, chances are that we won’t either!”