The Tree Is Real And So Is The Anger

(Christmas is very important to me, so I want my first Christmas in my new flat after graduating from university to be special. I decide to buy a Christmas tree. I go to a garden centre to buy one and am greeted by an employee.)

Employee: “Good morning! Are you looking for a Christmas tree?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

(I tell him my budget and what I’m looking for, and he leads me over to the trees.)

Employee: “Ah, this one is beautiful!”

Me: “Oh, actually, as I said, I’d prefer a fake tree. I can’t touch real ones or—“

Employee: “Nonsense! No one should have a fake tree. How about this one, then—“

(I am dragged around the garden centre for ten minutes as the employee shows me various trees, all real, before I finally snap.)

Me: “Excuse me; I have told you repeatedly that I would prefer a fake tree. I am—“

Employee: “What? No! Fake trees are awful! All plastic and ugly. You don’t want a fake tree! Only lazy people have fake trees. You need a real tree—“

Me: “NO! Listen to me. I do not want a real tree; I want a fake tree. If you had listened at all when I told you what I was looking for, you would know that I cannot come into contact with pine or fir trees because I am allergic! I have been trying to tell you repeatedly for almost fifteen minutes now. Now please take me to find a fake tree.”

(The employee ran away, tail between legs, and I was helped by another employee who said that the employee had been trying to sell nothing but real trees because he got a better commission. I got a discount for the trouble, and have been happily coming into contact with my fake tree for six years.)