This happened in 2003, in February. I was a retail bookstore worker.
The day's "Worthless bag of human flesh" award went to this lady.
First question: "Do you have the new Harry Potter? Book 5?" ::sigh:: I told her that Harry Potter 5 wouldn't be published until mid-June.
"So you don't have it?" Bewildered look.
"No, ma'am. No one has it. It hasn't been released yet. It won't be available until the summer."
"OH. It's not OUT yet." She grilled me about what it would be called and how much it would be, and then she wanted two books that she'd written on a piece of paper. We went to the desk and I typed up one of her book titles. It was a crockpot cookbook of some kind, and we were supposed to carry it. The other I just knew already because it was popular.
So we went to the cooking section. The lady, with her now-familiar bewildered expression, uttered another of her famous ridiculous statements while reading the sign on the wall: "'Cooking and Health'? Oh, wow, I never would have found it over HERE." This was said in that weird tone of voice that people get when they (rightly) are surprised to find dream books in the New Age section or maybe pet books in the nature section. But . . . I just don't understand how it's surprising to find that a cookbook is shelved in the cooking section. Nope.
So we found her crockpot book, and then I found her other book, which was about food counts. At this point, for some ungodly reason, she took the book from me and began being vocally unsure of whether it was the same one written on her paper. I assured her that it was; for God's sake, I'm a bookstore worker, I don't normally look at people's wish lists and then give them some other book for the hell of it. So she began comparing, word by word, the title of the book with the writing on her page! Aloud!
"The . . . okay, the. Complete . . . complete. Book . . . book." Yes. Yes it is The Complete Book of Food Counts, dammit. It IS. And then she looked on her paper and informed me that the author was Netzer, which I knew, and she read the lady's name to me from her paper, looked at the book cover (where Netzer's name was emblazoned in large white letters on a blue background or something), and said, "Now do you see her name anywhere on here?"
I kind of incredulously pointed to her giant name, which was larger on the book cover than the title. She was satisfied by that, thanked me for my help, and took off for the register. There, the cashier sold her a discount card, and then she puzzled over whether she really did get her discount for about two minutes more, asking him for repeated clarifications of how it worked out. Grrrrrr.