(The store I work in is closing down and, as such, we have a large sale running. This has led to a lot of problematic customers but this guy is incredibly infuriating and I consider calling security. I am assisting another customer when he comes up to me with a shoe.)

Customer: “Hi. I found this 42 but I can’t find the other foot in the right size. Can you help me find it?”

Me: “Sir… we don’t have any size 42 left in this style; where did you find this?”

(He leads me over to what used to be a stack of cartons at the very back of the store, away from any of the shoes on sale with “FAULTY/ODD SHOES; DO NOT TOUCH” written on them. He has clearly unstacked all of them and has been going through the boxes.)

Me: “Sir, there is no other shoe. These cartons contain faulty and odd shoes. I cannot sell them to you.”

Customer: “Oh, but I found that out there.” *gestures out at the floor*

Me: “This was not out on the floor, sir.”

(I pick up the empty box with an “ODD SHOE” label on top and put the shoe back in. He reaches back into one of the cartons.)

Me: “Sir, I cannot sell you any of these shoes. They are either lone shoes, mismatched pairs, or faulty shoes. They aren’t even in my system anymore.”

Customer: “But I really like that one. Isn’t there something you can do for me?”

(In my head, all I can think is, “No. Do I look like I can pull a shoe out of my a***?” but I force a smile anyway.)

Me: “There’s nothing I can do, sorry.”

(He walks away and I think that’s the end of that. I get some tape, tape the cartons up again, and add more signs to them. I have to duck into the back room and take a call, leaving only my coworker out the front. Part way through the call I hear what sounds like a stack of shoes collapsing. Once I’m done, I exit the back room and walk out to find that the cartons of odd or faulty shoes have been torn open. I go to the front and find three pairs of either mismatched or faulty shoes at the counter with the man nearby still looking at other shoes. I take the three pairs back to the cartons, tape them up AGAIN, and replace the signs. A customer calls me away and I help them, taking their items to the front, only to find MORE ODD SHOES AT THE COUNTER. After serving the original customer I yet again walk the odd shoes to the cartons and add more tape. I then see the man at the counter being served by my coworker. I go over to put the tape away and am crouched next to her for the next part.)

Customer: “Oh, she told me I could have these shoes for $10, as well.”

(He gestures to shoes that are 50% off, and definitely not $10. I lean back immediately so he can see me and raise both my eyebrows.)

Me: “I did not tell you those shoes were $10.”

Customer: “Oh, haha! Just these ones, then.”

(Fortunately, then he bought his — fortunately, not mismatched — shoes and left, but if he hadn’t I would have asked him to leave or else I would have called security. I wish he was the only one who went through those cartons but he was definitely the most persistent about it.)

(I’m shopping in a big shoe store with my mom. While wandering the back rows, a woman grabs me and this conversation ensues.)

Woman: “Excuse me. Can you help me with these shoes?” *points to a display of shoes on an end row*

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry; I don’t work here.”

Woman: *snottily, rolling her eyes* “I know you don’t work here. I just have a question about these shoes.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Woman: “Do you know what the price is?”

Me: “No… because I don’t work here.”

(I work at a shoe store that has an in door and an out door. I could fill up a couple pages of Not Always Right with stories of people coming in through the out door despite it not having a handle, but this one takes the cake. My manager and I are closing up for the night. We have locked the in door and turned our open sign off. We go to the back to put the money in the safe when we hear:)

Customer: “Hey, are you guys open?!”

(Something to keep in mind here is that the lights were turned off. Anyone with ANY common sense would think we were closed, so I respond with:)

Me: “Uh… no.”

Customer: “Oh. Your door is unlocked.”

Me: “Our out door is unlocked but our in door is locked.”

(The customer turned around and walked off. Seriously, how do you pry open a door with no handle and not realize that the dang store is CLOSED?!)

(I like to get all my errands done as early as I can on a weekend so the rest of my time off is mine. I go to a cobbler to get a zipper replaced on a boot whose teeth keep separating.)

Cobbler: “Hmm. This repair is expensive.”

Me: “What? What’s expensive? How much are you thinking?”

Cobbler: “It’d be, like $35.”

(The boots are over $600 new; their worth should be pretty obvious to someone in his field. I imagine the manufacturer would repair it for me — being a defective zipper — but I don’t want to waste my time figuring it out if I don’t have to.)

Me: “That’s… not expensive.”

(I pay and then head out, calling my aunt to complain that the race-to-the-bottom pricing we face every day now makes $35 seem too expensive to fix a boot.)

Aunt: “What are you wearing?”

Me: “Umm, a rock shirt and jeans.”

Aunt: “Ironic rock shirt or real rock shirt?”

Me: “Real rock shirt.”

Aunt: “Do your jeans fit?”

Me: *confused pause* “No.”

Aunt: “How’s your hair?”

Me: “Greasy and messy… Aww, man, he thought I was homeless.”

(Now I know why I get all my best deals when I shop Saturday morning.)

(A husband and wife are browsing in our shoe shop. She picks up a pair of white shoes from the shelf.)

Wife: “These are perfect, but I want them in black.”

(Her husband picks up the identical black version situated right next to them and shows her.)

Wife: “No… I don’t like those.”