I live in a small town that is home to a very prestigious and very expensive liberal arts college. The town has a Sunday farmer’s market, for which a few blocks in the commercial/shopping area are closed off, and farmers and artisans set up stalls. This particular story happens one Sunday before the beginning of a new school year. Many students have already arrived with their families and are exploring the town.

I am shopping at the market and overhear the following conversation at a produce stall between a young woman customer, a middle-aged woman who is likely the customer’s mother, and the farmer:

Young Woman Customer: “Are your vegetables organic?”

Farmer: “Yes, ma’am, and we pick them the night before the market, so they are very fresh.”

Young Woman Customer: “Then why is there dirt on the carrots?”

Farmer: *Sounding a bit perplexed.* “Well, we do give them a rinse to get the caked-on dirt off, but we don’t scrub them. They are just like that naturally.”

Young Woman Customer: “Why are you saying that they are organic? There is dirt on them. They are dirty.”

Farmer: “We don’t use pesticides, and we use only organic fertilizer. Carrots grow in the ground, in the dirt. You will have to wash them before eating.”

Customer’s Mother: “Come on, honey. We are not buying anything here. It’s unsanitary. Somebody should report this place to the public health department.”

Farmer: “Have a good day, ladies.”

I assumed the young woman was a newly arrived college student, and I only hope that if I am right, she is not majoring in any kind of science. Or anything that requires any kind of critical thinking or basic understanding of how nature works.

I was selling honey at a farmer’s market.

Customer: “What kind of honey do you have?”

Me: “Oh, we have clover-honey, pine-honey, manuka-honey—”

Customer: *Getting really angry.* “Don’t you have honey from actual bees?!”

I’m working at a baked goods food stall in a farmer’s market. A customer stormed up, holding a half-eaten cookie that I had sold them a few minutes before.

Customer: “Your chocolate chips have gone bad.”

I glance at the tray, then at the cookie in their hand.

Me: “That’s a raisin cookie.”

Customer: “No, it’s chocolate chip. And the chocolate is spoiled. That’s what these are.”

They point emphatically at the raisins.

Me: “Those are raisins, sir. It’s a raisin oatmeal cookie.”

Customer: “I know what chocolate looks like. This is bad chocolate. I want something free to make up for it.”

I open my mouth to respond, but someone from the small crowd waiting nearby beats me to it, clearly having followed the whole exchange.

Other Customer: “THERES GROSS GUNK IN THIS FOOD. GIVE ME A BUNCH MORE OF YOUR FOOD TO COMPENSATE ME! Dude, we all totally knew you’re just trying to get free s***. F*** off!”

The customer stutters for a moment before turning heel and disappearing back into the crowd. I smile at the other customer.

Me: “Free cookie?”

Other Customer: “Yeah! And I want that one—” *Points.* “—as I’m not a scammer who mixes up oatmeal and raisin with chocolate chip!”

Related:
And That’s How The Scam-Cookie Crumbles

A long time ago (still in high school), I was working part-time over the weekend at a fruit stand as part of a farmer’s market. The owner puts a sign up for the apples.

Me: “That sign doesn’t make any sense.”

Owner: “I think I know what you’re getting at, but please explain.”

Me: “It says apples are twenty cents each.”

Owner: “Yup.”

Me: “But it also says four for a dollar.”

Owner: “Yup.”

Me: “Why?”

Owner: “I could explain, but you won’t believe me until you see it for yourself.”

Cue the entire day, customers counting out apples four at a time because “it’s such a good deal!”

At the end of the day:

Owner: “So I hope you learned today that customers are idiots.”

Me: “You’re right, I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it.”

Decades later, I still read every store sale sign extra carefully so that I don’t become one of those customers.

Customer: “Are these potatoes fresh?”

Me: “About as fresh as it gets.”

Customer: “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

Me: “They were pulled fresh out of the ground yesterday, ma’am.”

Customer: “So they were in the dirt?”

Me: “That’s pretty much where all potatoes come from, ma’am.”

Customer: “Do you have any that grow in the air cleanly, like on trees?”

Me: “If there are potatoes that grow like that, then we don’t have those here.”

Customer: “Hmm, fine. How long were they in the dirt?”

Me: “If you mean how long they were growing before we harvested them, these types of potatoes take about four months.”

Customer: *Aghast.* “These were in the ground for four months, and you call them fresh! What kind of sucker do you think I am! Just because I’m not from a farm, you think I don’t know how to tell something is fresh! Disgusting!”

The customer storms off… probably to look for a potato tree that can grow full-sized potatoes in a day or two…