(I work at a music store which also offers private lessons. There’s a student practicing on a piano when another customer comes in.)

Me: “Welcome to [Music Store]. How may I help you today?”

Customer: “I’d like to buy a piano for my son. He’s starting lessons next week.”

Me: “Digital, upright, or grand?”

Customer: “I just want a piano!”

Me: “Certainly. This is the Roland RD-700GX, which–”

Customer: “Is that girl for sale with that piano?” *points to the girl*

Me: “Uh, no, ma’am. That is a student. She’s just practicing.”

Customer: “Well, I want that girl to teach my son! How much does she cost?”

Me: “Ma’am, she is NOT for sale.”

Customer: “She’s not? But she’s sitting right there! This is false advertisement!”

Me: “We sell pianos, ma’am. Not children.”

Customer: “But it’ll be so romantic to have that playing in the background during meals!”

Me: “Ma’am. For the last time, she is not for sale. Please stop.”

Customer: *walks over to girl* “Hello!”

Girl: “Uh… hi?”

Customer: “How much do you cost?”

Girl: *without missing a beat* “Lady, you must be really desperate if you’re looking for a hooker in a music store!”

Customer: *quickly leaves the store*

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(Note: the music from the jukebox in our bar is playing pretty loudly.)

Customer: “Can you turn the jukebox back on please?”

Me: “It is on.”

Customer: “No, it’s not.”

Me: “Yeah, it really is.”

Customer: “No, it’s not. The government turned it off.”

Me: “Erm, really?”

Customer: “Yeah, so can you turn it back on?”

Me: “Erm, okay…” *I pretend to push a button underneath the bar* “…how’s that?”

Customer: “Much better, thanks!”

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Me: “Good afternoon, ma’am. How many books of these stamps?”

(As I ask the customer this, “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles begins playing on a nearby radio.)

Lady: “Oh, my gosh! I love this song!”

Me: “That’s great. Now, how many books of–”

Lady: *begins to dance towards the door*

Me: “Uh, okay, ma’am, don’t forget your–”

Lady: *dances out of post office, leaving her purse on the table and the rest of the customers confused*

(This took place in a music store where there was a Jonas Brothers poster on display. A young female customer comes in, walks past the poster, stops, then walks back again.)

Customer: “O. M. G.”

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Can I get them?”

Me: “Um, who?”

Customer: “The Jonas Brothers.”

Me: “Yes, you can purchase that poster and their CDs.”

Customer: “No, I mean do you sell them? Like the real them?”

Me: “Um…what?”

Customer: *getting frustrated* “Can I buy the Jonas Brothers?!”

Me: “…I’m sorry, but we don’t sell people…”

Customer: “Well, that is just plain STUPID. WHY would you have an advertisement for them if I can’t buy them?! *storms away angrily*

Me: “…”

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(I overhear this odd exchange while shopping at a local used music store. It takes place between the clerk and a woman with a heavy accent.)

Customer: “I am looking for a CD of band called Wet Noodle.”

Clerk: “Wet Noodle? I don’t think we have anything like…”

Customer: “You have it! My grandson says he wants the CD of band Wet Noodle!”

(The clerk searches for the band on his computer, to no avail.)

Clerk: “I’m sorry, we don’t have any record of any products by a band called Wet Noodle.”

(I put one and one together and interject.)

Me: “Ma’am, do you mean Limp Bizkit?”

Customer: “Yes! Some band like Wet Noodle or Limp Bizkit or some food!”

(The clerk gets the CDs for the lady, finishes her transaction, and then turns to me.)

Clerk: *to me* “I’m giving you every discount I know of.”