A charismatic guy approached me today about tax forms. A tanned man in his fifties, with a boyish look. He spoke quickly, switching languages and laughing about his own observations on life. Yuri offered to find him the tax form online, but he put on a 100 watt smile and said, "Oh, I have time. I'm determined to find this form in hard copy, it has become something I must do." His efforts to be charming were kind of working on me, which was weird.
He kept talking for a few minutes in an engaging manner, claiming to be a multi-lingual naval architect, until Yuri persuaded him to go upstairs to hassle the reference librarian. "He's nuts," Yuri said as he left. I was worried. I hadn't thought he was nuts at all. I thought he might be the kind of person with enough personality and brains to be nearly indistinguishable from a crazy person. An eccentric. In the short time I spoke with him, I had started to trust him - and I thought of the massive cult in South America that drank a vat of poisoned Kool Aid. Really weird to meet that kind of person - and to discover I was the kind who might fall for it. Oh no.
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