She was having trouble locating the philosophy section and asked for a book by “Eee-manuel Can’t. K-A-N-T. I’m looking for it and I can’t find it.”.
I had to restrain myself on two counts:
She can’t find a book by Kant. h0 h0 h0! Being a bit harried I’m sure she wouldn’t have appreciated it.
Butting in and asking which work she was looking for and trying to be of assistance.
A quick aside, I don’t mean to be snobby about her pronounciation, it’s probably a strange effect of my mutated head that I can’t conceieve of not saying it “Eye-manu-el Cahnt”.
In any case, the young lady behind the counter offered some directions and the harried lady shot off towards an uncertain fate searching for some Enlightenment-era Enlightenment from the Professor of K?nigsburg. I had to wonder what sort of maddening urge would drive a person to come in, so harried, in pursuit of a Critique (or two).