Crusty: I need to find scrub pants that match the shirt I bought last week.
Me: Okay, do you have the shirt with you?
Me: Okay, then there's not a lot I can do.
Crusty: It's got flowers on it!
Me: Ma'am, it's Spring. Half the store has a flower motif.
Crusty: I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU ARE REFUSING TO HELP ME! JUST HELP ME MATCH THE SHIRT!
Me: Ma'am, again, did you bring the shirt with you?
Crusty: I told you no!
Me: I can't color match a shirt that isn't here.
Crusty: It's got the color blue on it.
Me: Without. The Shirt. I can't. Color match.
Anyone in the clothing industry will tell you over and over and over again that there are many many many shades of blue. Even spouting off things like "navy blue" will result in hundreds of possible matches, as 'navy blue' simply translates to 'the darker shade of blue.' Reducing your search from 1000 possible matches to 300 possible matches still means that it is imposible to be sure. Unless the Flying Spaghetti Monster smiles upon you, there will be a return within 24 hours and a screaming harridan pissed that the stupid cashier 'was too stupid to give me the right pair of pants!"
Because of course it's all our fault that the Crusty was too stupid to bring the shirt along to help her match her colors properly. Did she want to hear this? No, she cut me off and interrupted me and told me to stop blithering and to help her find her pants.
Me: Ma'am, tell you what, spend some time walking through our store and see if you can find the pattern of the shirt you bought.
The store isn't large, and anyone with a pair of eyes can spot patterns and colors easily, especially since we put all of the same pattern together, for some inexplicable reason.
This would not do. It was not her job to find things for herself, that was my job as an employee and I needed to find the match to her shirt.
She made this proclamation while wedged between four round hang-tables, surounded by flowery scrubs.
My dedicated co-worker would arrive in an hour to give me my lunch break and until then I was alone. With no manager to hand her over to, or to lord it over me, and no possible way I could get into trouble, I took it upon myself.
Me: Listen lady, I cannot help you without the shirt. I cannot, and I will not, spend all afternoon going shirt by shirt through this store looking for a pattern that YOU cannot clarify. Bring the shirt, and we can do something for you. Until then, either look for it yourself or go to the [store that's three cities away].
Crusty: This is an outrage! MANAGER! NOW!
Crusty: HOW DARE YOU TELL ME 'NO!' I WANT A MANAGER NOW!
Me: We don't HAVE a manager. We haven't had one for three months.
Crusty: *splutter splutter squawk*
She left when it got through her thick skull that she wasn't going to get her way.