I was paged over the LG intercom to assist a customer. When I got there, Dee rolled her eyes at me from behind the cheese counter and gestured toward a flustered-looking woman in a hot pink t-shirt that looked like she'd slept in it for a week.
"Can I help you find something?"
She was studying a handwritten note in her hand that was more crumpled than her shirt.
"I need three bottles of wine," she said, without looking up. "Pro seck something mare lot. Do you know what that is? I don't know nothing about wine and I don't care to drink it."
I looked at the list. Three words, written on the same line, in nearly illegible writing. I made out "Prosecccho", then there was a bunch of gibberish, then obviously "Merlot". Underneath that line it read "$60".
"Well, I know what Prosecco is. Those are here," I said, gesturing at the ten or so varieties. "And I know what Merlot is, and we have a lot of Merlot, so I can help you pick one, but I have no idea what the middle word is."
"You don't know what it is?" She was incredulous, glancing very obviously at my name tag, on which the words "Wine Buyer" are emblazoned, as if to say Some fucking Wine Buyer you are!
"No, you misunderstand. I cannot read the word as it is written. It's not that I don't know what wine it is."
"You don't know what it is?" Again with the incredulity.
"No. I am saying that I do not recognize these markings as letters, or the collection of markings as a word. If you can tell me what those letters are, I can tell you what the wine is that you are looking for."
"She said it would be about sixty dollars. I don't know wine, so I don't know what she wants."
"Well, okay. I assume she means an average of twenty dollars per bottle. This is the only Prosecco I have at that price..." I reached up and pulled down a bottle of delicious, sustainably-grown, hand-picked and fantastic wine.
"-I don't think that's it."
"Really."
"I have the bottle out in the car. It's that same shape, but I don't think that's it."
Nearly ten minutes had passed, and I was starting to get impatient, so I asked her if she wanted to go get the bottle out of the car.
"I don't know. I guess I could. But I don't know what this other one is. Do you know Mare Lot?
"Yes, I do know Merlot. I have about fifty of them. So if you don't know what kind she wants, I can make my best guess. Would you like me to recommend one that is around twenty dollars?"
"Oh. I didn't know there was more than one kind. I don't know anything about no wine. I don't drink. I guess maybe I'll have to have her come and get it herself."
"Do you have any way of reaching her? Do you want me to call her and ask her exactly what she's looking for?"
"No. I don't think she'll answer. I guess maybe I'll Just have her come back-"
"Yes, I think that might be the best thing." Relieved to be freed, I turned to put the Proseccco back on the shelf.
"I guess I'll get that one."
I handed it to her and walked away, still trying to smile. I ducked behind the cheese counter and mumbled to Dee "Steer clear of that one. She has a list."
She giggled.

Forty minutes later I was paged to come to customer service.

"This is a put back," said the Customer Service woman, handing me the Prosecco.