I’m working at a baked goods food stall in a farmer’s market. A customer stormed up, holding a half-eaten cookie that I had sold them a few minutes before.

Customer: “Your chocolate chips have gone bad.”

I glance at the tray, then at the cookie in their hand.

Me: “That’s a raisin cookie.”

Customer: “No, it’s chocolate chip. And the chocolate is spoiled. That’s what these are.”

They point emphatically at the raisins.

Me: “Those are raisins, sir. It’s a raisin oatmeal cookie.”

Customer: “I know what chocolate looks like. This is bad chocolate. I want something free to make up for it.”

I open my mouth to respond, but someone from the small crowd waiting nearby beats me to it, clearly having followed the whole exchange.

Other Customer: “THERES GROSS GUNK IN THIS FOOD. GIVE ME A BUNCH MORE OF YOUR FOOD TO COMPENSATE ME! Dude, we all totally knew you’re just trying to get free s***. F*** off!”

The customer stutters for a moment before turning heel and disappearing back into the crowd. I smile at the other customer.

Me: “Free cookie?”

Other Customer: “Yeah! And I want that one—” *Points.* “—as I’m not a scammer who mixes up oatmeal and raisin with chocolate chip!”

Related:
And That’s How The Scam-Cookie Crumbles

A long time ago (still in high school), I was working part-time over the weekend at a fruit stand as part of a farmer’s market. The owner puts a sign up for the apples.

Me: “That sign doesn’t make any sense.”

Owner: “I think I know what you’re getting at, but please explain.”

Me: “It says apples are twenty cents each.”

Owner: “Yup.”

Me: “But it also says four for a dollar.”

Owner: “Yup.”

Me: “Why?”

Owner: “I could explain, but you won’t believe me until you see it for yourself.”

Cue the entire day, customers counting out apples four at a time because “it’s such a good deal!”

At the end of the day:

Owner: “So I hope you learned today that customers are idiots.”

Me: “You’re right, I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it.”

Decades later, I still read every store sale sign extra carefully so that I don’t become one of those customers.

Customer: “Are these potatoes fresh?”

Me: “About as fresh as it gets.”

Customer: “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

Me: “They were pulled fresh out of the ground yesterday, ma’am.”

Customer: “So they were in the dirt?”

Me: “That’s pretty much where all potatoes come from, ma’am.”

Customer: “Do you have any that grow in the air cleanly, like on trees?”

Me: “If there are potatoes that grow like that, then we don’t have those here.”

Customer: “Hmm, fine. How long were they in the dirt?”

Me: “If you mean how long they were growing before we harvested them, these types of potatoes take about four months.”

Customer: *Aghast.* “These were in the ground for four months, and you call them fresh! What kind of sucker do you think I am! Just because I’m not from a farm, you think I don’t know how to tell something is fresh! Disgusting!”

The customer storms off… probably to look for a potato tree that can grow full-sized potatoes in a day or two…

My family owned a coffee shop/general store where we sold all kinds of random stuff, from office supplies and toilet paper to lattes and smoothies. It was random, but it filled a need in the neighborhood.

At one point, we decided to pour candles. They were popular, so we started selling wholesale and at events. I was selling one day at a farmers’ market when a woman came to the booth. She recognises the candles, but doesn’t look at the rest of my booth.

Customer: “Oh, these candles are great! I usually buy them at this little s*** shop downtown.”

So, there I am, with my logo for the ‘s*** shop’ on my candles and a big banner for the same shop behind me. She hasn’t clocked on that the candles are handmade in my shop.

Me: *Pointing to the banner.* “Is it that s*** shop?”

Customer: *Eyes widen.* “Oh… uh… no, it must be another shop!”

Me: “Could you tell me which one? I make these candles myself, so if someone is selling low-quality copies of them, I need to know.”

Customer: *Backing away.* “Oh, I forgot. It was… uh… downtown.” *Trips over some items as she’s backing away.* “S***! F*** it.” *Runs away.*

I work in an outdoor farmer’s market. A customer is staring into a crate of heirloom tomatoes.

Customer: “These can’t be right. They’re all different sizes. And shapes. Has someone just thrown these all together?”

Me: “They’re heirlooms and they’re grown without any chemicals or uniformity. I know some might look a little different, but the taste’s unbeatable.”

Customer: “At Walmart, they’re all the same. These look mutated!”

Me: “Trust me, this is what natural and fresh tomatoes are supposed to look like.”

She blinks, still not quite getting it.

Customer: “It’s just weird. I came here because I was told it was all natural and clean, but it’s all just so… messy.”

Me: “Ma’am, nature is messy. Walmart just edits it before you see it.”

Customer: “Hmm…”

Me: “You know we sell by weight, and you can pick your own tomatoes from the crate? Why not just pick the ones you like the look of?”

Customer: “But they’ve all been touching! What if the other ones were dirty?”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t think a farmer’s market is for you.”

Customer: “I’m going back to Walmart where the tomatoes come in the nice clean plastic.”