Random Clueless Person: "Hi. I'm looking for a collection of comics for my boyfriend."
Me: "Sure thing. What's it called?"
RCP: "I don't know. It's a collection of comics."
Me: "That's, like, three quarters of our store. Do you know what it was about?"
Me: "Can you ... find out the title?"
RCP: "It's definitely not The Flash."
Me: "That's specific but not helpful."
RCP: "It's volume ten."
RCP: "Not The Flash."
Me: "You are going to have to call him and find out the name."
RCP makes exasperated noise. It's not at me. They're not being entitled. It's a noise of frustration that the world is too complicated.
RCP: "Can I just look around?"
I go back to putting comics away.
RCP: "Kramer's Ergot!"
Me: "Wow. Yea, that wouldn't have been in my first five hundred guesses."
RCP: "Do you have it?"
Me: "Right here. Volume ten."
RCP: "How do I pay for it?"
Me: "Just bring it over to my coworker, and they'll check you out."
They walk past my coworker.
Coworker: "Over here, darling."
They walk past my coworker in the other direction.
RCP: "I'm too short."
They are not. They are of average height and, like all but small children, have to put something down on the counter, not reach up to it.
Eventually they get to the right spot, pay for the comic, and cheerfully walk out the door. Probably into oncoming traffic.