A man once came into the flower shop I was working in and asked if we had any “orkades”. It took me a sec, but I realised he meant Orchids. I directed him to the display of potted orchid plants. Throughout the exchange, he continued to pronounce it “orkade”.

Then while he was buying this potted plant, he kept telling me it would be “out of water” for at least two hours because it was a present for someone in his office. I didn’t really understand why that mattered, so I said that was fine; they only need water about once a week. He seemed really surprised by that.

I was preparing his potted orchid plant very clearly in a pot, and he asked if I would put any other flowers with it. I was genuinely confused, but eventually it dawned on me that he thought this was a cut flower, so I pointed out to him that it was a living potted plant, not a cut flower; it didn’t need to be in water, and we wouldn’t incorporate it into a bouquet.

He then decided he would rather have a bunch of cut flowers and went to look at those instead, with this expression on his face like I was the one who had wasted HIS time.

Caller: “I really gotta complain. All the flowers you sold me died.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Since it’s within warranty, we can send you some new ones or offer you a refund.”

Caller: “Would the new flowers die just as quickly?”

Me: “If the flowers are given the proper care, as directed on the—”

Caller: “—I don’t want an evasive non-answer. I want you to guarantee for me, right now, that any new flowers you send me won’t die just as quickly.”

Me: “Sir, I cannot guarantee that, as I can’t know what conditions the flowers are being kept in, but we also offer a refund if—”

Caller: “—I don’t want that. That’s not a solution.”

Me: “So what would be a solution to this issue, sir?”

Caller: “You tell me.”

Me: “I’ve offered to resend the flowers or a refund.”

Caller: “No. Those aren’t solutions.”

Me: *Sighing internally.* “Have you ever had any issues with our flowers before?”

Caller: “No.”

Me: “So, can we chalk this order up to being a bad batch and replace them for you?”

Caller: “No.”

Me: “Then it’s the refund, then.”

Caller: “That’s not a solution—”

Me: “—then in that case I’m not refunding you, and I am ending this call since nothing else seems acceptable. Have a nice day.”

Caller: “Wait, I—”

Me: *Click.*

He called back, and I let my manager take the call. After a few minutes of the caller complaining about my attitude, I overhear my manager say:

Manager: “We can offer a refund, or we can resend the flowers.”

Pause.

Manager: “Well, those are solutions, sir. Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they don’t solve the issue of your dead flowers. Now, about the issue of you being a total a**, well then, I’d have to agree, we don’t have a solution for that. Have you tried therapy? Oh, he hung up.”

My manager processed the refund.

Our flower place used to send coupons and other stuff with the gift boxes and bouquets.

Caller: “I just got this floral set delivered from you for my wife.”

Me: “I’m happy to hear that they arrived on time, sir, would you—”

Caller: “—This is terrible service! There were all these coupons inside!”

Me: “We include some partner deals with our gift sets, but they’re kept outside the main gift so that they don’t get in the way of the presentation.”

Caller: “I don’t care about that! One of the coupons is for a box of wine!”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Caller: “My wife is an alcoholic! She’s going to think I’m trying to tempt her!”

Me: “Sir, you can throw the coupons away. You don’t have to give them to her as part of the gift.”

Caller: “That’s not the point! Don’t send them out ever!”

The caller hangs up, and I bring the point up with my boss. She concedes and removes the wine coupon from our rotation. A week later:

New Caller: “I just got a floral set from you.”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

New Caller: “I’m very upset that you stopped doing the wine coupons! I only ordered your crappy flowers to get the cheap wine!”

Me: *Sigh…*

A customer is buying a bunch of flowers at the counter.

Customer: “Can you not do that?”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am? Do what?”

Customer: “Breathe all over the flowers!”

Me: “I need to breathe, ma’am.”

Customer: “But don’t do it so much!”

Me: “I can’t really comply with that.”

Customer: “Then you’re happy to be damaging my flowers?!”

Me: “Ma’am, breathing on them is a good thing. It feeds them.”

Customer: “It… does?”

Me: “Plants take in our carbon and spit out oxygen, pretty much the opposite of what we do.”

Customer: “Hmph! That might be you and where you come from, but you wouldn’t catch someone like me spitting out carbon!”

She bought the flowers. I did not have to hold back my breath. I did, however, have to hold back my laughter.

I’m working at a florist’s shop in London. A man comes in, marches straight up to the counter, and immediately starts complaining.

Customer: “These roses are too small!”

Me: “They’re rose buds, sir. They start small, then open up as they bloom. That’s how flowers grow; same as with all living things, really.”

He frowns at me like I’m making it up.

Customer: “I don’t want small ones. I want bigger ones.”

Me: “We only have buds at the moment. They’ll open up beautifully in a few days, but if you want them already open, you might need to try—”

Customer: “—No, no! I want them big now. Like those!”

He points triumphantly at the top shelf. I glance up.

Me: “…Uh… those are silk.”

Customer: “Yes, exactly! Those ones. I’ll take those!”

Me: “Sir… they’re fake. Artificial. Plastic and fabric. Not real flowers.”

Customer: *Confused pause.* “So… they won’t grow?”

At that point, I just gestured toward them and said:

Me: “No, sir. They’re fake.”

Customer: “But… I can see them.”

Me: “Fake means they’re fake plants. They still… exist.”

Customer: “Okay. I will get them as long as they exist.”

He bought the silk ones. I have no idea how that conversation ended up becoming so existential, but a sale is a sale.