Thanks loads for your "help."

Today, my job took me to a local American Vets Post today, aka bar. I had never delivered to this particular place before, and I had 10 large tanks for a soda fountain to bring in. I decided to leave the tanks in the truck until I could ascertain where exactly they were going to be kept. I wandered inside, and made my way into a lounge, where 4 drunk men (it was only 3:30 PM) and a female bartender sat, watching "Family Feud" on TV. (Apparently, this was as much stimuli as they could handle.) I asked the barkeep where to carry the tanks to.
She said, (sans any type of hand gestures) "First, you'll have to go downstairs, and then make a right turn--"
I could see she was going to turn the journey to the tanks' destination into a novel, so I interrupted, "OK, so where are the stairs?"
My query made no impact. "Alright. You go downstairs, right?"
Again, I sought to clarify. "Yes. But where are the steps?"
Coyote Ugly started getting upset, but still would not abandon her robotic stance. "No, listen to me. You go down the stairs---"
Forcefully, I pressed, "Yes! Where are they? I can't go down the stairs if I don't know how to find them!"
Exasperated, she threw up her hands and gasped, "Aw! Fine. I'll have to show you. I can't explain it to you."

Can't explain it??? BTW, turns out the steps were about 25 feet directly to her left side, but I guess she couldn't find the words to explain it.

Survey says, "X!"