Sell To A Betta Person

| Columbus, OH, USA | Pets & Animals

Customer: “I want betta fish. What size tank for those?”

Me: “I recommend at least a gallon, but if you can afford a five gallon one, that would be great!”

(The customer picks up one that holds only a pint of water.)

Customer: “How about this one?”

Me: “I really don’t recommend keeping your betta in a tank that small. Those are meant for temporary holding only. It’s not suited as a permanent home.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not? It says it’s for betta fish!”

Me: “Yes but that tank does not offer the amount of room necessary for a betta. It might be able to survive for a time, but it’s the equivalent of shoving a large dog in a closet and keeping it there for two years.”

Customer: “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Fish don’t think. They can’t feel pain. They’re nothing.”

Me: “As a matter of fact, they do. Their perception of pain is even more sensitive than humans.”

Customer: “Why should I care?”

Me: “If you don’t care, why do you want one if the first place?”

Customer: “To look nice! I want a pretty fish for people to look at when they visit my home!”

(I realize this customer isn’t going to provide a decent home for the fish, and refuse her the sale. The store owner agrees with me, and the customer storms out fishless.)

Ah, Mothers, Part 8

| Boston, MA, USA | Bizarre, Family & Kids

(I am a student, and I babysit for money. On Mondays, I take the little boy I watch to the playground for a few hours and helicopter around him in case he hurts himself. A mother at the park approaches me.)

Mother: “You know, I just want to tell you: I see you here every Monday and I think it’s just great that you are such a hands-on young mother.”

Me: “Oh! I’m not his mother! I’m just his babysitter. But thank you anyway!”

Mother: “Sweetie, you don’t need to be embarrassed! You should embrace being a great mom, especially at such a young age. I can’t even imagine what its like for you as a single mom in your early 20s!”

Me: “Uhm, really, I am not his mother. I am just his babysitter. But I’m flattered you think I am doing a great job caring for him!”

(The mother walks away to the sand box area, where other mothers are sitting just within ear shot.)

Mother: “You ladies will not believe this! That girl over there is trying to claim that that baby is not hers! Some people! I wonder if her parents have brainwashed her in to thinking it’s their baby. There are some really crazy people out there huh?”

Related:
Ah, Mothers, Part 7
Ah, Mothers, Part 6
Ah, Mothers, Part 5
Ah, Mothers, Part 4
Ah, Mothers, Part 3
Ah, Mothers, Part 2
Ah, Mothers

The Name Blame Game

| Willow Grove, PA, USA | Bizarre, Crazy Requests, Love/Romance

(We have a counter where customers can pick up online-only items that have been shipped to the store at no charge. Customers can designate an alternate pickup person, and it’s not uncommon for a spouse or parent to pick up an order, though usually they know it’s not their name on the order.)

Customer: “It’s under [name]. It’s a stroller.”

(I search, and find nothing on computer or on the shelf.)

Me: “Could it possibly be under your husband’s name?”

Customer: “I’m a lesbian.”

Me: “Okay, well, what’s your wife’s name?”

Customer: “It’s [other name].”

Me: “Here we go!” *brings out stroller* “Your name wasn’t on the box, so that’s why.”

Customer: “Well, you should have known!”

Me: “I should have known your wife with a wildly different name always sends you to pickup the order under her name?”

Customer: “YES!”