Transfer of Ownership

A guy comes into the store one Saturday. The weather is, for a change, not a brutally hot and muggy oven, but instead a nice high-70s, low-80s breezy summer afternoon. Fernando does not recognize him, but the dude seems to know what he is doing, for he marches into the welcome foyer and immediately turns to face Fernando.

The strange man slumps down on the countertop. He's a stocky bloke with a Ron Jeremy-esque mustache decorating his top lip, and when he speaks he reveals to all the world that he falls squarely into the boisterous fat guy category. “Hey, old timer!” he booms at Fernando, who sits about ten feet away.

This even though the gentleman looked to be at least twenty years Fernando's senior.

“Hello. What can I do for you?”

The man scratches at a jowl. “Yeah, I've got a free rental here.”

“Interesting. Can I get your name?”

“Yeah, it's under Kosovo Waterloo.”

Fernando recognizes that name, as it's one of his regular customers. “If it's under him, then why do you say that you have a free rental here?”

“He told me that I could use it.”

“Well, that's awfully genial of him. But I'm afraid I can't do that, not unless you have some proof besides.”

“What, you don't believe me?”

“It's not that I disbelieve you so much as that I am quite hesitant to let people use other peoples' duly earned rewards on nothing more than a say-so. If you had a free rental coming, would you like it if the man in charge of keeping track of it let someone else use it merely on his say-so?”

“Yeah, if I told him that he could.”

“But how would I know that you told him?”

“He'd tell you.”

“If I told you that someone you know said that you would hand over the keys and ownership papers to your house to me, would you do it?”

“Nobody told you that.”

Here Fernando realizes he would be trapped in endless stalemate if he continued his argument, so he cuts short the conversation and puts his foot down. “I'm sorry. I can't do what you ask.”

The strange man heaves back up and walks out.