I work at a university art museum, and we definitely get our share of interesting patrons.
Man: Do you have a room with art?
Man: You know, like paintings and drawings and stuff.
Me: Well, we are an art museum, so, yes, we have several, in fact.
Man: Where can I find them?
Me: Ah, through those big glass doors there, see where those paintings are?
Man: Oh, ok.
But most pressing in my mind is the horror of family day. One of my coworkers suggested that next time we write "Family DAY, not family DAY CARE" on the posters, but it was already too late. We physically ran out of incident reports with an hour left to go.
Every day someone manages to be difficult in a new and exciting way, like the woman who wanted to feel the Rouault painting to "see if it was real, because you people sometimes hang posters and I don't want to be cheated". I love my job, but it really makes me question my faith in humanity sometimes.