He said he was a cowboy. He assured me that he listened to what ladies told him, because ladies were smarter than him. Always. He looked about 58, and he sat on the table in the post office because his hip needed to be replaced and he could barely walk. He told the whole post office about it. He was in front of me in line. I told him to keep sitting there until it was his turn, and that I'd wait for him to get up and get to the clerk. He appreciated that. He said that was unusually kind. Then he continued talking loudly, making the entire line listen to his hip problems, and when his time came up to go to the counter, I waited for him to make his way, to the service clerk whom I know, as I’ve shipped many of my books before from this office. I’ll call her Mary.