a box of wands

I went to Magick Cauldron a couple of days ago to buy a magic wand. I walked up to the woman behind the counter and asked her where her wands were. She said, "What kind of wands?" I was flummoxed. I held my hands about a foot apart to show her what size I was looking for. She said, "Wooden? Metal?" She seemed exasperated by my magic wand ignorance.

She escorted me to a small cardboard box on aisle 1. "Don't ask me what kind of wood they're made from," she warned me, "because I have no idea." She'd read my mind apparently and knew what my next question was going to be before I did, having heard it a thousand times already. It was like she was exhausted from the high volume of magic wand inquiries she'd fielded recently, and it was all she could do to keep novice magic wand enthusiasts from darkening her doorway. Was such a sharp tone really necessary? 

When I looked into her box of wands, big surprise, the selection was atrocious. There were about twenty tiny, tinkly magic wands barely covering the bottom of the box, a bunch of finely honed dowels really, with knobs carved into one end and blunt-cut at the other. Disappointing. I was expecting longer, gnarlier, pointer wands, not elementary school music batons. I guess the Magick Cauldron saleslady wasn't a very good mind reader after all, because I didn't really care what wood her wands were made from. They weren't even magic.