I remember back when I used to work in a movie rental place (they do still exist in some rural towns!), a customer came in, looking confused.

Customer: “This DVD didn’t make any sense!”

He hands over a copy of the Swedish vampire film ‘Let The Right One In’, which was a new release at the time.

Me: “What about the movie didn’t make any sense?”

Customer: “All of it! They were speaking, but none of what they said sounded like words!”

Me: “You know this movie is Swedish, right?”

Customer: “What’s Swedish?”

Me: “It’s a language.”

Customer: *Blank look.*

Me: “The actors in the movie are speaking Swedish, which is another language. They’re not speaking English.”

Customer: “Wait, when you say another language, you mean like Spanish?”

Me: “Spanish is another language, yes, but in this instance they’re speaking the language Swedish.”

Customer: “But they can’t be speaking another language! They’re White!”

That was when, as well as explaining how to turn on the DVD dubbing soundtrack to the customer, I also had to explain to them the concept of Europe.

I used to work part-time in a liquor store in Oklahoma. On Sundays and holidays, it is state law that we are closed. We’re in the store on Memorial Day doing inventory when a customer shows up at the door, which, of course, is locked.

Customer: *Yanking on the door handle, shouting through the glass.* “Hey! The door is stuck!”

Me: “It’s not stuck, it’s locked! We’re closed on holidays!”

Customer: “C’mon, just sell me some beers!”

Me: “Come back tomorrow, sir. We can’t legally open today.”

Customer: “Then why are you all in there, huh?! You’re in the store, so you’re legally obligated to let me in and make a purchase!”

Me: “No, sir, we’re not. We’re in here doing inventory. Come back tomorrow.”

Customer: *Yanking on the door handle harder, shouting louder.* “You don’t get to tell me when to come back! Let me in!”

Me: “Stop doing that or I’m calling the cops.”

Customer: “Call ’em! They’ll tell you that since you’re in the store, you’re legally obligated to let me in and make a purchase!”

So, I called the cops, and it’s a good thing I did because he managed to break the door’s locks (cheap and old) and open the door. He’s in the store demanding we make a sale when the police arrive. We ask them to arrest him.

Officer: *Talking to the customer as he’s walking him away.* “Don’t you know it’s illegal to sell alcohol today?”

Customer: “Well, I didn’t buy any booze, so I’m not breaking any laws!”

Me: *With a smile.* “But, sir, you are in the store, so the police are legally obligated to arrest you.”

It is early December, and we are in the thick of the in-between Thanksgiving and Christmas mayhem of shoppers. I’m a cashier at a local small grocery store. At this time, the temperature was hovering around 30°F to 40°F (-1°C to 4°C) outside. A gentleman comes up to me and asks me if we have any fresh watermelons in the back. 

My manager was talking to the cashier in the next lane, which is maybe four feet from this customer and I. She turns to me, blinks, and crooks an eyebrow with a WTF. I blink back and take a deep breath. I had a feeling, so I answer him.

Me: “Sir, watermelons are seasonal in the late Spring to early Fall. They are a Summer melon. We won’t have any more watermelons until at least maybe April.”

He huffs and gives me an angry look.

Customer: “But I want a watermelon now! Is there ANYWHERE I can get a watermelon?”

Me: “Sir. As I said, watermelons are a Summer seasonal melon and most likely won’t be available anywhere until late Spring.”

He huffs again and grumbles about going to the big W store, muttering that they have everything, so they must have watermelons.

My manager, the second cashier, and I slow blink at each other, and as the customer walks out the door, we start giggling.

2nd Cashier: “He does know that Google is free, right, and can find out just about anything about watermelons, right? Like, if they are in season or not? ”

Manager: “I’ve been working at a grocery store since I was sixteen, so it’s been about forty years now. Trust me, all the logic in the world won’t deter a customer into thinking they are, in fact, more right than facts.”

Customer: “What does 112 off mean?”

Me: “Uh, can you tell me what you’re referring to?”

Customer: “The sign. It says 112 off. Are you discounting it by $112?”

Me: “Oh! That’s half off. That’s not 112, it’s ½. It’s a fraction.”

Customer: “A… fraction?”

This person sounds like a local, so I don’t think it’s a language barrier, but I know not everyone got to have a great schooling, so I aim to be sensitive.

Me: “Yes. A fraction is a math thing. ½ basically means half. For this item, it means it was ten dollars, but now it’s five.”

Customer: “Ugh! Then just say it’s five dollars! Why do you have to assume we’re all rocket scientists to understand a price!”

Me: “I’ll… pass that suggestion on to the manager.”

For the rest of the time I worked there, that customer would see me and make remarks like “Oh look, it’s Einstein!” and “What’s up, math boy? Here to write down the prices in algebra?”

Related:
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 5
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 4
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 3
Fractionally More Stupid, Part 2
Fractionally More Stupid

I was working in a women-only fitness center on a Saturday morning. Today, we closed at noon, and had a sign on the door asking patrons to please plan their workout so that they would finish by closing time. 

I was by myself with two “outspoken” patrons. It was 11:45 (so fifteen minutes to close), and two MORE women came in and headed for the dressing rooms. The space was not well-insulated, and everything could be heard everywhere.

Outspoken Patron: “They’re late.”

Me: “I don’t mind. I have to clean up anyway, so it’s no problem at all for me to wait for them to finish.”

Outspoken Patron: “Well, they should still be respectful of your time.”

Me: “I promise I’m okay with it. It’s fine.”

At this point, the two women who’d been in the dressing rooms came out and walked straight out the door. They didn’t say a word to me (and hadn’t returned my greeting when they’d come in either), and I didn’t have time to say anything to them.

Me: *To myself.* “That was weird.”

Outspoken Patron: “That was weird.”

I was off Monday. On Tuesday, I came in, and my supervisor told me:

Supervisor: “You’re being written up for being rude to patrons.”

Me: “Can I ask for the details?”

Supervisor: “Two ladies who came in on Saturday.”

I explained that I had DEFENDED them and that it was the other patrons who had been rude.

The supervisor told me she actually knew that. [Outspoken Patron] had been in the fitness center when the late patrons had called and complained. [Outspoken Patron] went to my boss after she got off the phone and “told on herself”, explaining that SHE had been defending me, and that I had been 100% on the patrons’ side.

Supervisor: “I can’t write up another member, and the ladies canceled their membership, so the owner says I still have to write you up because you should have done something.”

Me: “Like what?”

Supervisor: “I don’t know. Something.”

I quit not long after. That was beyond ridiculous, to get in trouble for doing the RIGHT thing.