Tension in the Public Library!!

As I was working at the library today, I noticed something suspicious. As a pre-teen girl was using a computer, a man in his forties/fifties walked up and stood right behind her chair without saying anything. He was looking down at her screen (which was submerged). He continued to stand there, and also glanced at the screen of the woman sitting nearby. The man continued to do nothing but hover over the girl. Finally, he tapped her on the shoulder, and she had sort of a disgusted look on her face, and didn't turn to face him.

I assumed the worst case scenario (that this man was harassing this young girl). Feeling that it was my duty as a library employee to protect youth from nefarious characters, I said clearly, "Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?"

His response was not warm. He said, "Do you mind if I talk to my daughter?" His eyes told me I should go and crawl into the darkest corner of the earth, and never return from that place.

I said something foolish like, "Oh, okay, go ahead." As if my permission was needed. I had clearly misjudged things. Should I have waited longer before forming my conclusion?

A talkative female patron sitting at the computer next to me giggled a little, and I felt I had to explain to her - explain to someone - my motives for interrupting them. She sympathized with me, but I still felt like an idiot. The man did not stay long after our conversation. He disappeared into the back of the library.

Later, when I was stationed at the check-out desk, I noticed the man again. I was helping a woman with her books, and saw him standing in line. I thought to myself, "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. This is not going to be fun." I wished the woman a good afternoon and she departed from the counter - exit stage left. The man immediately stepped up to the desk. Did I mention that he was a large man with a long overcoat (which could conceal a multitude of weapons, including shame)?

He held a CD case in his left hand, and his other hand was outstretched toward me. I looked up to study his face and he had a large smile. "I think I owe you an apology," he said. I shook his hand, and said, "I also owe you an apology." He told me that he understood that I was just looking after his daughter. And I told him that I didn't mean to offend him. Our friendly discussion continued as I checked out the CD, and ended with a fond farewell.

What is the lesson here? I'm not sure. Maybe it's that our brains are built to make sense of things, and we're not always right in our interpretations. Or maybe it's a sign I need to have more faith in people. Regardless, it was a nice little moment.