Of course, out of all the employes the little elderly man could corner and snarl at, he would have to pick the new girl. It was her first day on the sales floor.
"Can I help you?"
"—and I don't understand why! I doubt it." he said facing me, "I am looking for Plaster of Paris."
"Yes sir, I can show you where it is."
"No you cant! You don't have any."
"I'm...sorry? Did a sales member help you from that department? Because we actually carry—"
"Young Man I have seen your stock back there and you don't have ordinary, honest to goodness plaster. You have some crazy new-fangled goop that you mix together and it heats up really hot. You can't touch it. I don't need something like that! Doesn't sound safe."
"Resin? That's a different product actually, our Plaster of..."
"I am telling you, you don't have what I need! And where am I supposed to go to get Plaster of Paris if not here? If y'all don't carry it, WHERE would I find it? It should be here!"
"You can alway try [competitive company.]" I gave him directions to the store and walked him to our door thanking him for his time.
That evening after the store closed, we straiten the product on the shelves in preparation for opening in the morning. I found it humorous to straighten four containers of Plaster of Paris mix that apparently, we don't even carry.