So I'm still new at Dwarf Fortress, and my fort is off to a rocky start (no pun intended). I only have two of my original seven left after a series of disasters - three died of dehydration before I was able to desperately whip some booze out of some plump helmets bought from the first dwarven caravan (one of which was the Cook/Brewer, who barely managed to stave off thirst long enough to produce drinks for her comrades before expiring - something truly heroic if you ask me). The fourth was my woodcutter/axedwarf, similarly dehydrated when bedridden from injuries; all my water was frozen and of course you can't drink booze to recover from wounds so grevious as his: a broken hand. Fifth was the miner who was drafted in a desperate attempt to chase off the wolves and marquesewhatevers and managed to scare them into keeping away from the fort before being killed himself.
So down to just the non-noble Noble (Trader/Bookkeeper/Whatever) and the antisocial farmer (such a non-stressful and solitary job is granted to those with poor social skills, such as said farmer and his new immigrant-apprentice - more on that later) among the dozen or so immigrants, it seems like some good cheer is in order. So they throw parties. Or maybe they're funerals given all the death, but in any case there's a lot of them. That's okay, I think, let them have their fun.
It's spring. Elven traders appear. They hit the depot and are waiting patiently for the trader.
The trader is partying.
It's later, and I worry the traders will soon leave. I wonder when the trader will show up.
The trader is partying. For the third party in a row.
I decide the threat of shanghaied military service is in order and swiftly activate/deactivate her, which will clear her queue for planned activities.
Trader is listed as NO JOB. And one second later - attending a party.
If I lead the horse to water, I think, surely it will drink!
I draft the Trader and march her right up to the depot. The elves are RIGHT THERE. They see her, she sees them. One of them blows a kiss. I deactivate the trader.
Trader TURNS AROUND AND RUNS BACK TO HER PARTY. May I note that this once-in-a-lifetime, can't-miss-a-second party consists of a collection of unwashed dwarves, a single table in the middle of a huge unsmoothed room and was started by one of the two children the Trader seems to hover over in all the time, no doubt to the worry of the child's as-yet-unidentified parents?
Nope, can't miss that party. In desperation I hit ANYONE CAN TRADE and everyone's at the party, even the coincidental line of immigrants march right by. Finally the farmer's assistant (whose profile seems to scream anger issues) sits down and I sigh heavily, starting to trade.
I work out a proposition with plenty of profit for the elves (had a lot of giant cave spider silk clothes from the dead guys) and hit T, and the elf tells me "Whoops, looks like your race is still in love with killing, hurr durr". What the hell? Did my farmerdwarf flip out and attack the elves? Sure, I was eyeing that "seize items" button, but the elves couldn't have known that!
So the elves take off with their gear, a lot of stuff I could have used. The farmer's assistant is left frothing in rage. I sure as hell hope the Trader is enjoying that party she was so desperate to get too!
One quick check later, it seems the party has ended. The Trader is now looking for something to do.
...dwarves, man. What can I say.