"The Source," She sez, looking annoyed.
I look at her. "You'd like a book called 'The Source?'" (I always do this. If someone says, "Cooking." I say, "You'd like to see some cookbooks?" I figure, unless we're playing word association, you at least owe me a complete phrase.)
SHe nods, as if to say, "Duh." (This nearly always happens in response to that habit, but I get a little tingle at making them confirm that they do indeed want a book that matches whatever single or double word they've sniped my way).
I say, helpfully, "There are quite a few books called "The Source." Did you want the New Age title, the fiction novel, the history book..?"
She stares at me like I'm on low-grade crack. "I just want the Source."
"Do you know who wrote it?" I ask, still in helpful mode.
"Nobody wrote it." She stops talking.
I wait. "Do you know what it's about?" I'm about ready to rip out my hair (and there's not much of it left).
"It's not about anything. It's just a book." She thinks, hard, "It has words in it."
There was the death cry of a thousand brilliant comebacks being sucked into the vacuum of restraint.
My co-worker leaps to the rescue: "What do you need the book for?"
She sighs, "I just want the Source! It's a book with words in it!"
*ding* goes the little bell in my head.
"Do you mean a Thesaurus?"
Worst part? When She got to the cash, she said, "Oh, hey, it's written in latin on the cover..."
The Doc
So you think, 'Might as well,
Dance a Tango to Hell,
at least I'll have Tangoed at all.'
-- "Rent," Jonathan Larson