Once I'd been disarmed, I went into the registry, where I've been previously to look up information about my property and a few others. The archivists who locate information and explain the filing system are most excellent nerdy old folks, and I've always had pleasant experiences dealing with them.
The clerk who handles transactions is a bit different though. I walked up to the counter, told him what document I had, and asked him if he could help me file it. He grabbed it from me, sneered "that all?" at me, and started typing some stuff into the computer. He then said "do you have an envelope for this to go into?" (I had brought it over in a folder.) Before I could answer, he glared at it, said "of course you don't" and shoved an envelope at me. He then told me, "OK, you're going to start by writing your name on this..." I asked him if there was anywhere in particular I should write it, and he said, "Gee, you've never addressed an envelope before?" Oh, see, telling me I was addressing it to myself rather than writing my name on it would have been helpful. He then flipped through the pages of the standard lawyer-prepared document, glared at me, muttered "jeez" and typed into the computer some more, handed me a receipt, and said "yerallset" as he picked up a several-gallon Dunkin Donuts coffee from under the counter.
He might want to lay off the crack-laced burnt coffee and switch to ludes or something.