There i was, sitting at the reference desk all by my lonesome, minding my own business (and why, i ask you, why, can't everyone else mind THEIR own business and not pester me with questions as if i'm sitting behind a big sign that says INFORMATION or something???) when a guy in his mid-twenties comes up to the desk and says "There is some paper in the back that says "*(insert very, very common last name which also happens to be the name of our library here) on it and is that my mom's?" pointing back to our computer room. me: "What?" Mid Twenties Guy: "Is that my mom's paper?" "Huh?" "That paper that says (afore-mentioned name), is that her?" A bewildered, confused, flustered me says, "I'm not sure what you're asking me, what is your question?" "Is that my mom back there?" "I don't know." "You don't?" "No, i don't. He exits stage right. He Comes back, "There's a paper back there that has writing and 4/30 on it" Still Me, "Yes?" What month is this, the fifth?" "This is the fourth month." "So is she here, or is she coming in?" "I couldn't tell you." "Well, is that her writing?" "Does it look like her writing?" "Yes." "Well then it might be." He walks away again. He comes back. "I want to know where my mom is." "I'm not sure what i can help you with, sir, what did you want me to do?" "I just want to talk to her, i haven't seen her in four years." I'm thinking she just might like it that way, "I don't know, you might need to find her in a different way."" You haven't seen her, she has red hair, kind of weird face, she's really big, and she's crazy." Must run in the family, "I haven't seen her." "Well, where is she? "I really don't know her or where she is." He wanders off, yet again, only to assault the other librarian with the same questions. About 45 seconds later a wizened, old, drunken cowboy (boots, spurs, hat and all) wants a list of our falconry books. We don't have any in our library (so odd that we wouldn't in such a small library~isn't it?) So i print one out for him. Drunken Cowboy asks "How much do i owe you?" "Don't worry, it's fine." "Oh, you're cute." "Thanks" "What's your name?" "I'm RampagingLibrarian." DrunkenCowboy sticks out his hand and says "I'm Drunken Cowboy. It's a New Foundland name. I'm just an old cowboy." I shake his hand. "This is a wealth of information, i owe you big time." "Well, pass it along." "You're cute, I'll pay you back," DrunkenCowboy continues, "I'm a good kisser, er, i'm a good dancer," he shakes my hand again. "Um okay." He almost walks away, then comes back to shake my hand again, "I like my women worn out." Is that this the cowboy form of compliment? "I don't think i'm worn out." "No I don't think you look worn out, I meant broken-in." Is that any better??? I give him a clenched-teeth laugh. "I break horses, so it's good to be broken in," he shakes my hand again. "Uh, okay." He starts to walk towards the door, but no, "I'll come back and take you dancing, this is such great information." "Uhuh." He shakes my hand again, "I'll be back RampagingLiberrian." (not only does he get my name wrong, but he doesn't even tip his hat at me...) And hopefully i won't be here.