Who would have expected this?

Weird Guy: I need to report my bike stolen.
Me: Ok, what I can do is fill out a security report for you. When did this happen?
WG: About three weeks ago?
Me: Did you tell anyone then or fill out a police report?
WG: No, I'm telling you now.
Me: But, you didn't fill out a police report?
WG: No, uh, see, the bike was mine, but I got it from someone, well, you know how that goes, the guy was pretty shady, and uh, I didn't want to get the police involved.
Me: Uh huh, I see. Ok, well, I get the paperwork from the library filled out and send it to security. What is your name and phone number? [I'm telling him this as I'm typing]. And, was the bike locked.
WG: No, no it wasn't locked. See, I have my new one in the hallway there so I can keep my eyes on it because I know you've got these kids around here that steal. So, you're going to watch the video?
Me: Not me, the security department will and then they will contact you if they see anything. Also, the bike can't stay in the hallway, it's a tripping hazard. I'd recommend you go buy a lock because you can't keep that in here. About what time was the bike stolen?
WG: Ohhh, uhhh, well, the evening. Well, I was here at 3 p.m. So, yeah, around that time?
Me: In the evening or 3 p.m.?
WG: After 3. So, can I get a copy of that?
Me: Well, no, it's an internal document. I recommend that you go to the police station and file a police report and then they'll give you a copy.
WG: So, I can't get a copy of the police report?
Me: This isn't a police report. It's an internal library document.
WG: Let me tell you something about the black community.
Me: [OH GOD, NO, PLEASE DON'T. I've worked in the "black community" for 6 years]
WG: Theft used to be not so common, now, now it's rampant. Black people will steal anything.
Me: [My happy white ass isn't saying A WORD until this jackass finishes}
WG: In the black community, there is no respect. You can't trust people no more.
Me: You know, I've worked in this city for 5 years. And you know what else? It doesn't matter where you are--in suburb x or city y--if you leave something unlocked and sitting out there, it's tempatation for anyone and it's going to get stolen.
WG: Shakes his head and walks away.

I just had two potheads spit Cheetos all over the place.

Luckily, none landed on me, but the little fuckers didn't even bring us any.

It's 7 p.m., do you know where your child is?

Guy that calls: Where is my son?
Clerk: Pardon?
GTC: My son, is he there? I'm looking for him?
Clerk: I'm not sure who your son is, but let me send you to the person in charge.
GTC: I don't want to talk to the person in charge. Where is the fucking manager?
Clerk: She left for the day [god fucking forbid that I didn't work a 12 hour day]
GTC: She knows who my kid is.
Clerk: I can send you to ******
GTC: Look, I just want to know if my kid is there.
Clerk: I can't really tell you that.
GTC: I hope that you can't find your kids someday [really? You call every damned day looking for your kid and now that's is 7 p.m. and getting dark, you finally realize he isn't home? Way to go, dad of the year]. I hope that Child Protective Services takes them away.
Clerk: Well, sir, I'm sorry that you can't find your son, you can speak to the branch manager about library policies in the morning when she's in.
GTC: Maybe I'll just call and report everyone in that branch for not looking out for my kid. Then all of you will get fired! [Really? You've already threatened to come punch someone in the face because we couldn't find your kid, who is the loose cannon here? Father of the year. Someone call Parenting magazine.]

Fines

You know what really helps your cause when you want to try to get fines waived?

a). Referring the manager who has the power to do that (like, oh, say, me!) a "the devil."
b). Screaming about said fines all the way down the hallway of the library, both going in to and out of the building.
c). Lying about what you checked out and when and just being a stark raving lunatic about the whole thing.
d). Calling the administrative offices to complain and then saying you're "going to get the mayor in this." (Because, the mayor doesn't have anything else to do that deal with your $20 in library fines).
e). Calling the library the next day and referring to the children's librarian as a "stupid bitch" and then demanding to know "where the fuck the manager is" I was at a meeting, but the last time I checked, I didn't need to report to captain crazy pants. Since I'm the devil, I go where I wanna go).
f). All of the above.

If you guess "f" you win.

What do you win?

Oh, I don't know, maybe I'll waive your library fines...

Lemon Ricotta with a Dash of Bullshit

So, there I am, standing at the circulation desk, trying to do no less than three things at a time, when an older woman approaches me. What I am trying to do is find:
1. The title of some Triple Crown Novel that another woman swears is in existence, but I can't find anywhere or anything like it from another publisher.
2. Find essay writing books for this other lady [who was wonderfully patient with me because she saw I was busy]
3. Figure out when to meet with a top level admin because her secretary needs to know like ten minutes ago.
4. Trying to figure out extended dates for Census testing.

What does this woman want from me and why is it so urgent?

She needs a recipe involving lemon and ricotta.

Being the FUCKING AWESOME reference librarian I am, I just go to all recipes and plug in the ingredients, while still doing all of the above.

Me: So, what kind of recipe do you want?
Patron: Lemon and ricotta. Ricotta is a cheese (ok, gee, thanks for that information)
Me: Ok, those are ingredients, but there's like lemon ricotta cheesecake, cookies, muffins, pasta, quiche, lots of stuff
Patron: She just said lemon and ricotta [looks over at me, as if I'm supposed to know who 'she' is and what this pronoun likes to eat]
Me: Oh, I just don't see anything with lemon and ricotta, I mean, unless you were to zest the lemon and put it in the ricotta
Patron: No, no, no [really, really, honestly, I don't have time to argue with you over cheese], you're supposed to roll it out on a piece of foil and bake it [ok, this seems illogical to me, but I'm not a master chef, but sweetjeebusonapogostick, can you wait 5 minutes and then I can give you better service?]. That's what she wants. And only those two things.
Me: I don't really see any recipes that just have those two ingredients. There's a frosting that uses those two and some sugar.
Patron: No.
Me: If you can give me five minutes, I'll see what else I can find.
Patron: She just wants lemon and ricotta [Wait, what ingredients, can you repeat them another three fucking times for me?]
Me: If you'd like to go sit over at my desk, I'll be with you in just a few minutes [you fucking line-skipping impatient dingbat]
Patron: You're not Italian are you? Just gimme the ones for cookies.

This reminds me of the epic tale of Patti LaBelle's potato salad, which I will provide for you whenever I can find my email detailing the ridiculousness of that reference interaction.

And the FOOL moon ridiculous continues

Other insane shit that's happened today:

-This little boy who doesn't listen decided to call 911. I found out about it because 911 called us (well, me) to say that someone from my location called 911. So, I went running around the library trying to figure out if someone was dead, dying, severely injured, in labor, shot, etc. What I found was this smarmy six year old lurking by the circulation desk, looking at the phone. "That little shit," I thought. I gave him "the look" and he scattered. Sometimes, actions say more than your stupid little words ever will, especially when the kid called 911 again on the way out and they called back... again. Little shit, I'm pulling security footage and putting your face on the bulletin board, then pulling you into my questioning room and calling your mother.
-Girl fight. About ten teenage girls ran in here screaming and demanding to be let into the library. The security guard told them to get out. They refused to listen and proceeded to scream like they were being killed. At that point in time, I wanted rip out my uterus and slam it down on the floor and beat the shit out of it so that I can never, ever get pregnant with something that might turn into THAT.
-You fucking fucktard. YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. You always ask me for "ten kid's books about [...]." YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. I show you the section. You look at me stupidly. YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. I ask you if this is kinda what you're looking for and you look at me with this stupid blank expression on your face. I mean, really? I try to help you out, but at some point in time, wouldn't you kinda start to get a feel for where this shit is? I don't mind helping you out, because it's my job, but when you stand there like Suzy Fucktard, I have to wonder if it's not help you want, but me to just do your damned college reports for you. I guess that's why you stand at my desk like the goddamned dead lice are falling off you and want me to run around and get your shit while I have girl fights, 911 calls, people screaming at me about fines, a little boy wanting to show him how to draw (hi, I can draw stick figures), another person who wants to know what to do because she wants a break, and hoping that I don't piss myself because I drank 40 ounces of Diet Coke for lunch and can't go to the bathroom because you, Miss Preschool Teacher, can't fucking figure out what fucking books about flowers you want to read to some little turd monsters. I guess...
-Scientologists attacked me in the form of needing help with the copier. I was being all nice and then they tried to lure me in with a free book by L. Ron Hubbard. I work in a library, do I need more books in my life?
-Another lady comes in every Saturday and she ALWAYS bitches about the kids on the computers. Today is no different. The thing is, she knows our hours, she knows it's Saturday and the kids come in, she KNOWS. I've told her to call in and get a half an hour computer reservation so that she doesn't have to wait. But, see, that's too easy. It's way too much fun to walk in here and bitch under your breath about the kids and about how they're using "your" computer time and how you just don't know how you'll get your shit done before we close at 6.
-When I went to McDonald's (off library property) I was accosted by a weird man who yelled something at me. I pretended that I needed something off the floor of my car for 5 minutes until he walked away.
-A man insisted that he returned a DVD and that if I didn't take it off his card, it would be because it was some sort of conspiracy against him. Sure.
-I have a substitute security guard in here. He's creepy. He made a joke about sex toys and leered at my chest. Screw you buddy (you wish), you are not coming back to the little lieberry.
-I think that there is a lady in here in a wheelchair that doesn't need to be in a wheelchair. Why? She gets up and scootches her feet and pushes her wheelchair and then rather someone wheeling her along, she moves it with her feet. Ummmmmm... All that I can think of is Ray, from the Trailer Park Boys. Phantom 409 muthafucka.
-Finally (this is an edit from home, after the bubble bath and wine), this guy asks how much time has has left on the computer when it's about 5:47. My response was three minutes, because the computers shut down at ten til the hour. His response (after his 3 minutes are up)? "Lemme get your number here, because I know that you aren't going to give me your cell, are you?" My response? "Branch bookmarks are available at the front desk." Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me.

Full Moon Bullshit

This woman has been sitting AT MY DESK for about ten minutes.

The entire time, she has been moaning about her disability. Ok, I'm sorry that you are disabled, I know it must be tough not to be able to leave the house when you want to, I know that you must get lonely, but HI, I'm at work. I have payroll to do. I have computer reservations to make for people. I have shit to weed.

She is still sitting at my desk while I'm on hold with a patron.

She tells me that I look busy.

She also tells me "Well, it's easy for you because you work and you want to go home and sit in the quiet and I'm bored and I need you to find something for me to do." I give her lists of things to do at the library and within the community, including information about volunteering.

Thanks for making that judgement call on my life though.

She's still sitting here. My phone just rang again and she pulled back to sit and stare at me. I just got off the phone and I ask her if there's anything else she needs help with.

Blank stare.

I tell her that I'm going to go fax something, let's see if she's still there.

Ok, 20 minutes later, she just left. She was sitting at my desk the entire time, staring at it.

Fucking full moon. Cockroach lady just walked in here. *Shudder*

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls, it's a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola

Patron: I need to know what name to put on my library card application.
Clerk: Well, you would put the name on your id down.
Patron: It's complicated. I know I look like a woman...
Clerk: Oh, I see.
Patron: But, I've been going through a process of changing from a man to a woman. My ID says that my name is Raymond, but I like to go by Veronica.
Clerk: Oh.
Patron: Because I'm not Raymond anymore. After the first of the year, I will be a woman. I still have my 'stuff' down there [this is where my ears perked up, because, WHY ARE YOU SHARING THIS WITH A TOTAL STRANGER?], but it will be removed. *Giggle*
Me: [seeing the Clerk throwing the 'help me look' while I was still somewhere in the area of a stranger telling me his junk would be removed] We have to put your legal name in there, but we can add a note that you prefer to be called Veronica. Once you change your name legally, then we'll be happy to fix that for you.
Patron: Oh, sweetie, you are just a gem!

Dear U.S. Census

Dear U.S. Census:

If you really want people to take you seriously and fill out your form, I have some advice for you:
-If you say you are going to have a rep at the library from 5-7 p.m. every day (REALLY? Is the form that hard? I thought it sucked. I wanted more questions), then show up. I had three angry people because you weren't there. I have to take the heat for your shitty scheduling problems.
-You might have wanted to check with my library's hours before you blanketed the community with a time for your little helper monkey hours because you're scheduled to be in the library two nights a week when we're already closed. FAIL.
-Your employees should be talking to people, not reading books.
-Don't argue about the library hours with me. I can't change them.
-Your little helper monkey people probably shouldn't smell like they've been drinking since 8 a.m.
-Your little helper monkey people should be able to answer questions about the FUCKING CENSUS since they work for the CENSUS. Don't refer Census questions to me unless you want to cut me part of your check.
-Again, show up when you say you will. I've gotten screamed at enough this week. I don't need to get screamed at because you can't show up (apparently, showing up would cut into beer time?).

Fear in the heart of the reference librarian soul

there is nothing that strikes fear into the heart of my reference librarian soul more than these sayings:
-i need to fix my car (because this means possibly an hour long dialog about car parts where the patron assumes that i know what these parts are)
-do you have law books (because the patron assumes that i am a legal expert)
-i need to write a research paper (because the patron wants you to write the paper)
-i need something typed (beacuse, you are, after all, a typist)
-i need to find 15 children's books (because, dammit, i know shit about children's books, but i act like i do since i kinda have to being a branch manager)
-how do i write a resume (because this actually means, 'will you just write my resume for me?')
-how much is this coin/old toy/salt shaker/fake declaration of independence/grammy worth?
-my great grandmother's last name was smith and she lived in georgia. *blank stare* (because, of course, this means that you can instantly go to the google and whip up a family tree!)

i'm sure that there's something i'm forgetting, but these are the ones that came to mind first.

*please note that the above statements are different than the statements that strike fear into the management part of my life.

Hello hello hello

I hardly know where to begin, so, like the King of Hearts once said, "Begin at the beginning. When you get to the end, stop."

I'll begin at the beginning of my life in libraryland. It was fifth grade. I helped the school librarian by shelving books because I was a good & nerdy student. It was fun.

Fast forward a few years to me working in the college library at my good ol' alma mater. It was neat. I shelved books, I checked out books, I did periodical renewals and the librarian loved me. I even worked at different branches throughout campus. WHEEEEEEEEEE!

It was so much fun, I thought, "I should go to library school!" Well, that and the librarian said I should and I didn't want to teach stupid high school kids.

Fast forward to me standing there, smiling, Master of Library and Information Science Degree in hand, a job already lined up, feeling excited about being able to help people with research projects, finding books that they love, creating meaningful library programs, and on and on and on my little idealistic self went.

Fast forward to now, 5 years later, 5 years of DELIGHTFUL public library experience under my belt. That is, if delightful means breaking up gang fights, dealing with creepers who like to hit on the librarian because she has a job and some lovely lady lumps, pimps, people who shit in the chair, delivering babies, and general shit I can't make up.

And that is where you blog readers fall into play. I will amuse you with crazy shit that happens in libraryland. I will give you snippets of pure entertainment from past years of crazy shit from libraryland.

Keep in mind, throughout all of this, I am not making this up. Because, while I do have a fantastic imagination, there is no way IN HELL I could come up with the shit that goes down in a public library.