That’s My Final Answer

(I work at a college bookstore; it’s on campus, of course. We sell textbooks, pens, pencils, etc. It’s finals week.)

Girl: *comes up to me at a register* “Where’s my final?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Girl: “What room and what time is my final?”

Me: “The bookstore doesn’t know your classes. We don’t have a schedule for final times and classrooms”

Girl: “Why not?”

Me: “That’s your responsibility; you go to class and the professor tells you the time and place. Sometimes it’s over email.”

Girl: “I only went twice!”

Me: “I can’t help you.”

Girl: “Can you call my professor?”

Me: “No, it’s on your syllabus.”

Girl: “It seems like you’re just trying to avoid helping me.”

Me: “It’s not my job to know your finals.”