(I work at a music store attempting to help customers find music they want and restocking the shelves. It’s almost time for my shift to end, at about 8PM at night when Old Rowdy Guy comes in. He walks straight to me.)
Old Rowdy Guy: “Yes, do you have them whatchamacallit… Crimson Hot Chili Spices?”
Me: “Yes sir, do you mean the Red Hot Chili Peppers?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “No, no, it’s another band. It’s got a song that goes doo dooo dah dee dooo.”
Me: “I don’t recognize the song, sir.”
Old Rowdy Guy: “What? It’s on the radio all the time!”
(He continues the song for a couple more seconds and a bell rings inside my head.)
Me: “Oh, you must mean Ill Crimson?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “NO!”
(Old Rowdy Guy starts storming around looking around the aisles of CD’s. He starts getting angry and frustrated and yells, “I’ve been everywhere!”)
Me: “Calm down sir, do you know any of the lyrics?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “No! I want to speak with your manager!”
(I call the manager over, he’s heard our “conversation.”)
Manager: “Is there a problem?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “He won’t help me find this band!”
Manager: “Do you know any of the lyrics of a song or the band’s name?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “Crimson Hot Chili Spices.”
Manager: “Red Hot Chili Peppers?”
Old Rowdy Guy: “YES THAT’S THE ONE! How does this employee not know them?”
Manager: “He did mention the band, sir.”
Old Rowdy Guy: “No he didn’t! Managers don’t argue with customers!” *customer storms out*
(We laughed about him for a while before closing up.)
