A Dozen Eggs?

I have notoriously bad hearing and whilst some might say it's selective hearing I know better.  It's all that ear wax!  I'm so lady like.  Anyway, I'm often mishearing things, not hearing things at all and basically just make things up as I go along.  Most of the time I'll just tell people to speak up but sometimes I can't be bothered and just try to figure things out using what I thought I heard.  Not always the best idea.  If we go anywhere loud, like a pub or something then I tend to just kind of sit smiling, sometimes nodding, hoping that no one has actually asked me a question.  At work I have difficulty with the softly spoken folk who seem to mumble their way through every sentence.  This is not helped by the notorious fridge of doom that sits in reception.  It is by far the noisiest fridge in the world.  Ever.  It drones on and on all day and drives us all fruit loopy.  We had a technician out to take a look at it but he said there was nothing wrong with it.  It was normal.  Normal?  There might be nothing wrong with it per se but there's something fundamentally wrong with the design if that's the noise it makes.  So, standing anywhere near that bloody fridge I have to raise my voice so that the customers can hear me.  They don't always return the favour and I'm left trying to piece things together.  So when a man came over to ask for some eggs it took me three goes just to ascertain that fact.  Eggs ok.  Yes we have eggs.  Do you want a dozen or half a dozen?  A dozen.  Ok.  I was about to head out back when I noticed a selection of eggs sitting happily within the fridge of doom.  Had the customer not noticed the eggs?  Had the fridge mastered some kind of sinister mind control that stopped people opening the door?  So I politely pointed out that there were eggs in the fridge.  The man looked at the fridge, looked at me and shook his head.  No there's not.  What the frick?  I did a double take just to make sure I wasn't going loopy and hoping the fridge's extreme powers of mind control weren't making me see things, politely - always politely - advised the customer that there were indeed eggs in the fridge.  On the second shelf.  Plenty of eggs.  The man gave me a puzzled look and confirmed once again that there weren't.  Well this was just baffling me.  I decided to get some clarification.  Sorry, it was eggs you were after?  No, not eggs.  Pegs.  Pegs!  Well that certainly explained a few things.  I had wondered why he'd seemed confused when I'd asked if he wanted a dozen pegs.  Bit stingy if you ask me.  And of course pegs don't live in the fridge.  That's just silly.  I retrieved the customer's pegs and apologised for the confusion.  He left and I made sure to give the fridge evils.  Bloody fridge of doom.  I can see we're going to fall out.