Customer: “I need something to fill in between metal and concrete.”

Me: “Silicone adhesive or concrete adhesive in caulking tubes?”

Customer: “No, no, no.”

Coworker: “Sounds like you need some type of mortar?”

Customer: “No. That’s not it. I KNOW! I DO THIS FOR A LIVING!”

Coworker: *quietly to me* “If he does this for a living, than he should probably know what he needs.”

Customer: *to Boss* “Those guys don’t know ANYTHING!”

Boss: “Um… yes… Yes, they do.”

Customer: “Okay. I’ll just take these.”

(“These” being what I had recommended to the “Professional” in the first place.)

(I work in the garden department of the store. I also have the new portable phones that every department has.)

Me: “This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, do you have 16″ by 16″ pads?”

(I hate this question about concrete pads; they are for housing peers and trailer homes. When we get transferred a call from customer service they have to use their best judgement on which department to send it to, which is not outside garden.)

Me: “No, sir, that is in lumber.”

Customer: “I know you have them. You also have the landscape timbers, so the concrete pads are with them. How long have you been working here?”

Me: “A month.”

Customer: “Oh, that’s why you don’t know; get me someone who does know.”

(By this point, I am a little annoyed because I’ve had this question quite often in the month I have been here; the answer is always lumber. To make him happy, though, I ask two of my coworkers; they say concrete pads are in lumber. He still insists that they are in our department, but I tell him to hold while I get a price on them. The store recently got new phones, so I can’t transfer; I walk all the way down to lumber, and then I tell him the price.)

Customer: “Oh, so, they were down there the whole time.”

Me: *face palm*

Customer: “When did you stop selling fried chicken?”

Me: “Excuse me?” *thinking didn’t hear him correctly*

Customer: “When did you stop selling fried chicken? I know I bought it here.”

Me: “We have never sold fried chicken here; this is a hardware store.”

Customer: “I know, but you use to sell the best fried chicken. I know it’s been a few years, but it was the best.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I have worked here since we opened ten years ago; we have never sold chicken, fried or otherwise.”

Customer: *walks off muttering about how great our chicken was and why we stopped selling it*

Me: *to the manager* “What are we pumping into the air today?”

(We sell items for fishing and hunting, since most of the people in the village do outdoor activities. A customer walks in.)

Me: “Hi, what can I get you today?”

Customer: “Do you guys have any nightcrawlers?”

(Nightcrawlers are basically large worms, and are used for fishing.)

Me: “Yes, we do. Do you want jumbo or baby crawlers?”

Customer: “I want crawlers smaller than baby crawlers.”

Me: “Sir, that would just be regular worms.”

Customer: “No! I want crawlers, not regular worms.”

Me: “All right…”

(I walk to the back of the store, open the bait fridge, and pull out a box of worms. I take a baby nightcrawler sticker and replace the earthworms sticker with it. I take a marker, cross out “baby” on the sticker, and write “miniature” instead. I walk back and hand them to the customer. He opens the box to inspect them.)

Customer: “What are these?”

Me: “Miniature crawlers, like you wanted.”

(He nods and hands me the money, then walks out. A coworker saw the entire thing.)

Coworker: “Regular worms?”

Me: “Yep.”

I am taking my four-year-old to the hospital as he has a high fever and seems to be in some respiratory distress. It’s not an ambulance case, but I still don’t want to waste any time. I find that I don’t remember the hospital’s location quite as well as I thought, so I pull into the parking lot of the nearest store, a hardware store, pulling right up to the door to run in and ask for directions. I notice a lady in the passenger seat of a parked car, so close to me that we’re looking at each other, so I decide to ask her.

I don’t tap on the window, but make a tentative gesture toward her, mouthing, “Can I talk to you?” and making a “talk” gesture with my hand. Her expression goes a little colder and she looks back down at whatever she’s reading.

I run into the store and ask the cashier, who gives me directions right away as several customers stare with interest. I run right back out and get in the car again. I wouldn’t have given the lady another thought, but I notice her watching me as I get back into my car, looking smug.

I shout, not looking at her as I close my door, “I wanted directions to the hospital!”

Turned out my kid is all right, and everyone is great. Except the lady who was all pleased with herself for not helping a stranger with a sick kid whom she could see through the window.