I think I have two...wait, three...people from the past couple of weeks who rival the "dumbest people on the planet" stories (in addition to the ice-cream shop lady that told my mom that marshmallows were out of season, which story I previously relayed).
1. Starting with a check-out woman at Sports Authority. I went there to find something and almost immediately upon entering the store realized it was not the type of store that would have what I was looking for. I wheeled around to go back out the new-fangled automatic doors I had just come in and saw the following sign: "Not an entrance". I took one step in that direction before the following conversation ensued:
Check-out Lady: You can't go out that way. It says right there it's not an entrance.
Me: Well, it doesn't say it's not an exit, and I am trying to exit.
C-o L: No, the sign says that it's not an entrance. That means it's not an entrance to that other area.
Me: You mean the outside???
Apparently there are no such things as exits to this lady; only entrances to other places, including the great outdoors. (As I was leaving, I heard her having the exact same conversation with the next person who tried to exit.)
2. Guy answering the phone at local pizza place (new guy we had never spoken with before). It's important to note that they handmake and roll out their dough daily.
Me: I'd like to order a large pizza for delivery.
Pizza dude: OK, but we only have small and medium pizzas today.
Me: Well, OK, but couldn't you just roll out a larger piece of dough to make a large crust?
Pd:
Me: I mean that you could just make a larger pizza crust instead...?
Pd:
Me: I'll have a medium pizza.
3. Guy delivering pizza above, who called to tell me when he was in the neighborhood. I went downstairs only to see him take a wrong turn, double back, and then park in front of the house three doors down and go up to their door. When he started back down the walk, I called to him and told him he was at the wrong house. It's important to note that all houses in the neighborhood have the same type of mailbox, on which house numbers are painted in very noticeable fashion.
Pizza delivery dude: Oh, sorry.
Me: No worries; just trying to let you know you were at the wrong house. Did you see the numbers?
Pdd: Yes, but my GPS told me I had arrived when I was in front of that other house.