the other day, my co-worker will and i went to the county courthouse the other day to register for our notary public commissions. soon, i will be notarizing everything from divorce papers to salad dressing bottles. we slapped our forms on the counter. "this is a big day for us," i told the clerk. "we're here to become notaries."

"yeah, and we'd also like to get married," will chimed in.

"i'd like to change my name," i added, "and maybe dispute a traffic ticket, too."

the clerk smirked. "one thing at a time," she said. "now, for the notary stuff, you two need to sign here, date here, and give me your checks for five dollars."

we signed and dated. the funny thing about becoming a notary public is that there are no real requirements beside just paying the bill for it. here's how it works. you fill out an application stating that you are (a) not legally blind and (b) have a working knowledge of english. you send the huckleberry notary company eighty dollars and proceed to make a series of jokes involving tom sawyer and the word "dingleberry." then, for a few weeks, you wade through all the junk mail from every notary-related company in the continental states. they try to sell you fancy stamps, leather bound notary journals, and memberships into exclusive notary clubs where you can have discussions with other notaries about the humorous things you had to notarize. finally, the county sends you your notary card and a bill for five dollars. then you and your coworker finagle your way out of work and head down to the courthouse, where your coworker seems to know all the guards and a few of the judges.

"this doesn't look like 'jaclyn' to me," the clerk remarked suspiciously, eyeing my signature. "it looks more like 'gah.'"

"that's my signature," i said, narrowing my eyebrows. how dare she question a future notary?

the clerk handed me a reciept. i inspected it upon leaving the building; it was a list of different services and prices. the item she had checked off was "registering notary public commission, $5.00." the item below said,

"registering private detective, $1.00."

i could be a private dick for a buck? i pointed this out to my coworker, and we considered turning around and tossing the clerk our four quarters each. would she issue the trench coat and magnifying glass on the spot? or would we have to send away for our junior p.i. kits? we'd be notarizing detectives, roaming the land for clues which we would later stamp and sign.

becoming a detective would have to wait, though- it was time to get back to work. in the car, we flipped through our notary handbooks, full of dos and don'ts.

DON'T notarize any blank documents.

DON'T dispense legal advice to immigrants.

DO know that you cannot notarize blank documents.

DO understand that you cannot give legal advice to immigrants- or anyone else, really. you're just a notary, jerkbrain.

it's a big accomplishment, i know.