I used to work at a party supply store where our biggest appeal was that we would blow up balloons for parties and such. Over the summer I worked there, there was a helium shortage, so we were currently not blowing up any balloons. 

Customer: “Hello. Can I get some balloons filled?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we are currently out of helium, so we are unable to blow up any balloons right now.”

Customer: “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll just blow them up myself.”

Me: “Okay, then what would you like?”

As he was picking out Mylar balloons:

Customer: “Why can’t you guys fill these up anyway?”

Me: “Because we are out of helium.”

Customer: “Why do you need helium?”

Me: “So that the balloon floats.”

Customer: “Oh, so I can’t just blow these up. All right, where are the smaller regular balloons?”

Me: “You mean the latex ones? They’re down that aisle.”

I figured he understood what I meant and was just getting the latex balloons for some floor decorations or something, but when he came back to check out, it was clear he had not passed chemistry.

Customer: “That’s so weird, huh? So, the Mylar balloons won’t float if you just put air in them? Why? Are they too heavy?”

Me: “Um, how are you planning to blow those latex balloons up?”

Customer: “I’m just going to use my mouth.”

Me: “You are aware they won’t float like that, right?”

Customer: “They will. That’s how you blow balloons up.”

Me: “No matter what the balloons are made of, just blowing air into it will not make them float. You need helium.”

Customer: “Why do you need that?”

Me: “Because it’s lighter than air and makes them float.”

Customer: “Well, can’t I just breathe that out?”

Me: “No, you cannot breathe out helium. It comes from the ground.”

Customer: “How does gas come from the ground?”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure, but either way, those balloons will not float. Do you still want them?”

Customer: “Well, I guess not.”

Luckily, I was able to check him out without further incident after that. Unfortunately, he was just one of many incidents almost exactly like that. Pay attention in chemistry, kids.

Related:
No Helium For The Airhead, Part 3
No Helium For The Airhead, Part 2
No Helium For The Airhead

I work at the pick-up counter and register of a bookstore. I am not trained in advising customers on what they want to read. I cannot tell them which book they are looking for by color, the name of a character, or a half-quote from somewhere in the middle of a book. I can hand them a book they have previously ordered (if they remember their own name), take their money for in-store purchases, gift wrap their books, or tell them where they can find a decent restaurant or the closest bathroom. On a quiet day, I can place an order if they know exactly what they are looking for or I can find what they want on Google.

I get approached by a customer — an elderly lady who looks to be at least in her eighties.

Customer: “I am looking for the newest book by Brecht.”

Me: “Do you have your pick-up number for me? Otherwise, I need your name, please.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I haven’t ordered it.”

Me: “All right. Let me see if I can help you. By Bertolt Brecht, you said?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Okay. Well, Brecht has been dead since 1956, but there may of course be a “new” publication of some of his works. What do I know? I just work the register. I check our system but cannot find anything that seems to be what she is looking for.

Me: “Okay. I cannot really find anything current. Brecht, you said? Would you happen to have a title?”

Customer: “No. The newest one. I bought the first three books last year.”

I go back to checking the system. I can also not find anything that seems to match the “first three books” she bought recently.

Me: “I am really sorry. I don’t think I can find what you are looking for. You might want to head to the department on the second floor. My coworker may know what you are looking for. I am not really trained to help you.”

Customer: “Brecht. How hard can it be to find the most recent book by Brecht?”

I think I may have found the problem.

Me: “Are you possibly thinking of Precht? Not Brecht? Richard Precht?”

Customer: “Yes, Precht!”

Me: “All right. Are you looking for a fourth part of Eine Geschichte Der Philosophie? I can only find three volumes…”

A coworker walks past and sees me searching our system, a bit flustered, looks at the customer, and looks back at me.

Coworker: “She is looking for Proust. Check her account; I placed the order for her last week. It’s on back order.”

The order? “Auf Der Suche Nach Der Verlorenen Zeit” by Marcel Proust, a new edition, in three volumes.

I am a shift supervisor at the world’s largest coffeehouse chain. This employer grants employees stock that turns into shares after an allotted period of employment.

One day, the barista at the cash register asks me to come over to help a customer reload their account balance so that they can earn membership benefits on their transaction. 

Me: “Hey there! How can I assist you today? I heard that you’re trying to reload money onto your account?”

Customer: “Yes! I have been trying to get your cashier to understand that I can’t get into the app since I don’t remember my password. Can’t you just put my phone number or email into your register to pull up my account?!”

Me: “I totally understand the frustration there. Unfortunately, there isn’t currently a way for us to pull up your account information on our registers. Do you happen to know if your account is tied to a physical [Coffee Shop] card? If you have that physical card today, we can reload money and use it now.”

Customer: “I don’t know where that thing is!”

Me: “That makes sense! When the majority of retailers allow you to make an account on an app, it sure does feel like physical cards go obsolete. Have you tried clicking the ‘forgot password’ link on the app?”

The customer then shoves their phone toward me.

Customer: “Can’t you do it? I shouldn’t have to do all of this just to give you business.” 

Wary of holding the irritated customer’s phone, and wanting to free up the register so the cafe line can start moving again, I gesture for my coworker to come back over. I comp the customer’s drink that’s already on the screen.

Me: “What do you think about taking a step over from the register with me so I can walk you through it? I see that we already had your order queued up, so I went ahead and pushed it through so it will be made for you while we are chatting.”

The customer huffs and reluctantly agrees. I walk into the cafe to guide them through the password recovery process. My coworker hand-delivers the customer’s drink as the next part occurs.

Me: “Now you need to open the email account associated with your [Coffee Shop] account to see if the password recovery link has been delivered. The only thing that you’ll need to do is click the recovery link and reset your password so that you can get into the app!”

Customer: “Wait, what?! I don’t know my email password! It’s on a sticky note at my house!”

The customer’s voice is getting louder by the sentence. Other customers have been watching, but now my coworkers are all starting to stare. I try to think of the best way to defuse the situation, but I’m out of options.

Me: “Aw, man. Well, if we can’t access the recovery link right now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help reset your password. The good news is that you have a free drink in hand, and I can get the customer service center’s phone number written down for you so you can get this resolved before your next visit!”

Customer: “I cannot believe the steps I have had to take to order a coffee as a loyal customer. I am a shareholder of this company. Is this how you treat the people who fund your future?”

Me: “Trust me, as a shareholder myself, I wish this were easier and that we had the power to resolve your issue here. Would you still like that customer service center number?”

The customer appeared speechless and, after a few seconds of processing time, stormed out.

I’m making dinner one night, and I open a packet of chicken that I bought the previous day. Big mistake: the chicken smells like death. I check the sticker and it’s still in date, so I wrap it in a plastic bag, then wrap it in another one because I can still smell it, and head back to the shop I bought it from.

Once there, I explain the problem to the teenager behind the till, and he gets his manager.

Me: “I’d like to return this chicken, please. It’s got three days on the date, but it’s gone.”

Manager: “Okay, so it had three days left when you bought it?”

Me: “It’s got three days left now, but it’s definitely not edible.”

Manager: “No problem. I’m just going to take it out of the bag, if that’s okay.”

Me: “Ah, you can if you want… but I’ll warn you, it smells awful. There’s a reason why I’ve double-bagged it!”

Manager: “Thanks for the warning! I’ll have to take it out to do the return, anyway.”

The manager unwraps the chicken, and I can smell it already. The teenage cashier has been watching the interaction, and he comes up behind the manager.

Cashier: “Can I smell it? I don’t know what bad chicken smells like; I’ve never seen it before.”

Manager: “I guess, sure.”

The cashier takes the chicken from the manager, holds it right up to his face, and inhales like it’s a bouquet of flowers. Then, he drops the chicken on the counter and staggers away, gagging. The manager and I stare for a moment in disbelief.

Manager: “Okay, well, would you like a refund, or do you want to just grab another pack from the shelf?”

I hope the poor lad learned a valuable lesson about rancid meat that day.

I work in a restaurant. One of my servers comes to and asks which of our beers are gluten-free. I know there are specially brewed gluten-free beers, but we certainly don’t carry any. I explain this to the server, and she goes back to relay it to her guest.

He approaches me.

Customer: “I want a gluten-free beer. I have a severe allergy.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, sir, but we unfortunately don’t carry any gluten-free beers. We have a few ciders with no gluten, or we could make you a cocktail if you’d like.”

Customer: “No, I want a beer. You telling me you don’t have Corona?”

Me: “No, we have Corona. Corona isn’t gluten-free, sir.”

Customer: “Stella, then.”

Me: “Sir… Stella isn’t gluten-free, either.”

Customer: *Visibly pissed* “I drink those beers all the time, and I have a severe allergy, so I think I would know. What do you have that’s gluten-free?”

I’m sure you could see me dying inside at this point.

Me: “Cider or cocktails, sir.”

In the end, he bought a Corona, although I cautioned him many times that there is gluten in Corona. I’m sure he said the phrase “severe allergy” about fifty times.