Let me set the scene for you: a woman walks in (why do I always feel like I'm starting a really bad joke about a rabbi or a priest or a lawyer?) and has about 4 library cards. The clerk already checked the cards and told her what fines were on what cards. I happened to be behind the desk and the woman asked me to check the cards. I printed out the fine slips and attached them to the cards.
The woman made THE FACE. The face is something similar to eating raw lemons, shit, a shot of Rum 151, a toilet bowl freshner cake and rotten eggs.
Since I have a modicum of perception, I asked if there was a problem.
Moneybags: Yeah, there's a problem. I have $40 in fines. What do I do if I want to check out?
Me: Well, since we allowed you to pay a certain amount per checkout since December and you stopped doing that, you are going to need to pay $28, which is the amount of fines you accumulated since December.
Moneybags: [is outraged, of course, why fess up? Just act outraged and yell and maybe someone will act like they care] TWEN-TY EIGHT DOL-LARS?!?!?! TWEN-TY EIGHT DOL-LARS?
Me: [emotionless, because, I just don't care. I've heard it so many times, you have to be kidding me] We told you not to get any more fines in December, you got $28 in fines, so that's what you have to pay.
Moneybags: TO CHECK OUT A BOOK!?!?!?!?!?!?
Me: Yes.
Moneybags: Why?
Me: Why? Because, for example, in May, you racked up $15 in fines. If you pay a dolalr or two or even three each time you use the library and then rack up $15 in fines, you aren't going to be able to check out much longer because you'll owe too much.
Moneybags: Well, chilllllllllllllllle, please, I ain't checkin' out nonna these shitty books anyway.
As if calling the books in the library shitty is an insult to me. You failed to realize that while you said that, you had DVDs in your hand. You also failed to realize that the items on your card were all for 'shitty' books, so, clearly, at some point, you needed said 'shitty books.'
The beautiful thing is that after I wrote the previous part, I went to my desk, sent an email, saw the line backing up, went back to the circ desk, and she was checking out books. At first she didn't want to get in my line, but then she changed her mind. Of course, I was there to great her, smiled, and said, "Oh, it looks like you decided to get some books after all. Will you be paying the $28 or will you be using your son's card?" Of course she used her son's card, which also had fines on it, but not fines like hers. Either way, I got her. Stupid patrons.
Showing posts with label stupid patrons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid patrons. Show all posts
15 May 2010
06 May 2010
I honor books!
Just a few minutes ago, a woman called to discuss her fines. She began the conversation by telling me that she tried to contact me for the past seven months and has even stopped in to see me. I find this hard to believe since I live in modern times and use voicemail and have a staff that usually informs patrons when I will be back to the building.
As my grandmother used to loving tell me, "You catch more flies with honey than with shit."
Clearly, starting off a conversation by telling me I'm not where I'm supposed to be for the past seven months is bullshit.
Anyway, we'll cut to the chase. When I looked up the account, I saw that her fines were nearly $250.
At this point, I really couldn't get a word in edgewise because she went on a rant and told me: "I honor books. I respect books. I am not a teenager. I am a bussinesswoman. It was not me. I did not lose that number of books. My house was broken in to and everything was stolen. I honor books. Do you see? I love books. I respect books. Those books were taken from me. Because, I wouldn't lose something like that. I respect books. I am not a teenager. I am a businesswoman. I just don't see how something like this can happen. I honor books. I respect books."
From this conversation, I can infer that:
1. You are nuts.
2. You are lying, because, otherwise, why would you need to keep repeating yourself.
3. You think I'm a fool because insulting me is clearly the way to winning bonus points.
4. You think that being a "businesswoman" automatically saves you from paying for library fines and lost materials?
5. You really think I'm a fucking moron, don't you?
When I told her that for her fines to even be considered for removal, she needs to hand me a copy of the police report.
She paused [another sign of guilt, because, if you were telling the truth, you wouldn't have to pause to get your story straight) and said, "Well, what if I get something from the landlord?"
Me: Landlord? Perhaps I'm not understanding your question.
Liarliarpantsonfire: Right, my landlord could write you a letter to tell you what happened (sure, youre "landlord". And my mother is Joan Collins and my father is Bill Clinton. You're laaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnndlooooooooooord. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure).
Me: No, in order for our library to give this any consideration, we need to see a police report. And since you seem to have so much trouble getting in contact with me, I think that you should take this to the main library.
LLPOF: Oh, oh, well, I guess that'll have to do. But, I want you to understand that I repect books. I honor books.
Me: I undestand your respect for books, but you also need to provide us with a police report.
LLPOF: Oh, well, well... [Hangs up]
I mean, if this was ANY other bill, you would be required to pay it. If you racked up $250 on your Nordstrom card, you'd have to pay it. JCPenney? Pay it. Home Depot? Pay it. Macy's? Pay it. Victoria Secret? Pay it. What makes you think that you can take out $250 worth of materials, forget to return them in 2007, then come up with some bullshit story about a robbery and expect not to be held accountable?
As my grandmother used to loving tell me, "You catch more flies with honey than with shit."
Clearly, starting off a conversation by telling me I'm not where I'm supposed to be for the past seven months is bullshit.
Anyway, we'll cut to the chase. When I looked up the account, I saw that her fines were nearly $250.
At this point, I really couldn't get a word in edgewise because she went on a rant and told me: "I honor books. I respect books. I am not a teenager. I am a bussinesswoman. It was not me. I did not lose that number of books. My house was broken in to and everything was stolen. I honor books. Do you see? I love books. I respect books. Those books were taken from me. Because, I wouldn't lose something like that. I respect books. I am not a teenager. I am a businesswoman. I just don't see how something like this can happen. I honor books. I respect books."
From this conversation, I can infer that:
1. You are nuts.
2. You are lying, because, otherwise, why would you need to keep repeating yourself.
3. You think I'm a fool because insulting me is clearly the way to winning bonus points.
4. You think that being a "businesswoman" automatically saves you from paying for library fines and lost materials?
5. You really think I'm a fucking moron, don't you?
When I told her that for her fines to even be considered for removal, she needs to hand me a copy of the police report.
She paused [another sign of guilt, because, if you were telling the truth, you wouldn't have to pause to get your story straight) and said, "Well, what if I get something from the landlord?"
Me: Landlord? Perhaps I'm not understanding your question.
Liarliarpantsonfire: Right, my landlord could write you a letter to tell you what happened (sure, youre "landlord". And my mother is Joan Collins and my father is Bill Clinton. You're laaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnndlooooooooooord. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure).
Me: No, in order for our library to give this any consideration, we need to see a police report. And since you seem to have so much trouble getting in contact with me, I think that you should take this to the main library.
LLPOF: Oh, oh, well, I guess that'll have to do. But, I want you to understand that I repect books. I honor books.
Me: I undestand your respect for books, but you also need to provide us with a police report.
LLPOF: Oh, well, well... [Hangs up]
I mean, if this was ANY other bill, you would be required to pay it. If you racked up $250 on your Nordstrom card, you'd have to pay it. JCPenney? Pay it. Home Depot? Pay it. Macy's? Pay it. Victoria Secret? Pay it. What makes you think that you can take out $250 worth of materials, forget to return them in 2007, then come up with some bullshit story about a robbery and expect not to be held accountable?
04 May 2010
This game again?
Guy: Why do I have late fees? [Making angry face, waiving around a piece of paper, which is probably his summary of fines slip.
Me: Because you returned our stuff late.
Guy: No, no I did not. Not me. Never. I never return anything late.
Me: [My God, we went through this shit last fucking week. The fines from 2009 are not magically going to fall off your card unless you PAY THEM. With money, not with lunchmeat, or cows, or magic beans]. Well, it looks like you did in 2009.
Guy: But, I have late fees.
Me: Right, because you returned our stuff late. On March 8, 2009, you had three books due, you returned them on March 23, 2009. You are billed for those. Then, you renewed them on March 23, 2009 and they were due on March 31, 2009. You didn't return them until April 2, 2009. You were billed again.
Guy: You can't remember stuff from that long ago.
Me: Who can? That's why we have computers.
Guy: But I returned it.
Me: Yes, you returned them late. In fact, you did that twice, so you are getting billed on March 23, 2009 and then again on April 2, 2009 when you failed to return them on time.
Guy: How do you know that?
Me: [For fuck's sakes, did someone beat you in the head with your cane before you walked in here or are you just that stupid?] The computer tells me, that's how I know.
Guy: Well, do I have to pay it?
Me: Yes.
Guy: This lieberry is stealing my money! I put those in the book drop.
Me: [Blame it on the book drop. The book drop always gets the blame. The book drop is the scapegoat of the library world. What did the damned book drop ever do to you?!?!?!?] I'm not going to argue over this, but I will tell you that when you put things in the book drop, they can't be renewed. So, you had to bring them into the library and have them renewed by a person. Now, you can either pay your fines, or leave.
Guy: Fine, fine, I'll pay, but this is crack. I returned that. Y'all are TAKING MY MONEY.
Me: Because you returned our stuff late.
Guy: No, no I did not. Not me. Never. I never return anything late.
Me: [My God, we went through this shit last fucking week. The fines from 2009 are not magically going to fall off your card unless you PAY THEM. With money, not with lunchmeat, or cows, or magic beans]. Well, it looks like you did in 2009.
Guy: But, I have late fees.
Me: Right, because you returned our stuff late. On March 8, 2009, you had three books due, you returned them on March 23, 2009. You are billed for those. Then, you renewed them on March 23, 2009 and they were due on March 31, 2009. You didn't return them until April 2, 2009. You were billed again.
Guy: You can't remember stuff from that long ago.
Me: Who can? That's why we have computers.
Guy: But I returned it.
Me: Yes, you returned them late. In fact, you did that twice, so you are getting billed on March 23, 2009 and then again on April 2, 2009 when you failed to return them on time.
Guy: How do you know that?
Me: [For fuck's sakes, did someone beat you in the head with your cane before you walked in here or are you just that stupid?] The computer tells me, that's how I know.
Guy: Well, do I have to pay it?
Me: Yes.
Guy: This lieberry is stealing my money! I put those in the book drop.
Me: [Blame it on the book drop. The book drop always gets the blame. The book drop is the scapegoat of the library world. What did the damned book drop ever do to you?!?!?!?] I'm not going to argue over this, but I will tell you that when you put things in the book drop, they can't be renewed. So, you had to bring them into the library and have them renewed by a person. Now, you can either pay your fines, or leave.
Guy: Fine, fine, I'll pay, but this is crack. I returned that. Y'all are TAKING MY MONEY.
03 May 2010
A Day in the Life of a Library Manager
7:00 a.m. Phone rings. That shit is going to voicemail because it's 7 a.m. and I haven't had coffee, therefore, I might growl so loud that I bite your head off.
7:05 a.m. Listen to voicemail. "I can't come in today because I have boil on my bottom." FOR THE LOVE OF CREAM CHEESE ON A BAGEL WITH HAZELNUT COFFEE, I DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE FUCKING BOIL ON YOUR ASS. I don't bother to listen to the rest of the message. I just shut my eyes and lean back on the pillow, hoping to wipe the images of horror from my brain.
7:30 a.m. I hear the husband rustling around. He made coffee. Bless his heart. The problem is that I fall back asleep because the smell of coffee is so delicious and comforting. Of course, I wake up 15 minutes before I need to leave the house, which is JUST enough time for me to pour the coffee into my travel mug, brush my teeth, wash my face, and spray some lovely perfum on since I don't have time to shower. I probably should have gone with the Chanel to keep in line with the whole 'French shower thing,' but usually Chanel elicits responses of "you smelling good for your man?" from the creepiest patrons alive, so I went with the more sublte Marc Jacobs.
9:15 a.m. Roll into work. Patrons are already lined up outside. Actually, some are sitting in their cars in the lot having a "I can play my shitty rap music at 9 a.m. louder than you can play your shitty rap music at 9 a.m." contest. It's swell. No one wins.
9:20 Get into the building and promptly take 2 Advil.
9:30 I find myself standing at the circulation desk looking like a fool because the sub is late. You can imagine the horror.
9:45 MISS LADY THE COMPUTER ISN'T WORKING!
9:46 MISS LADY MISS LADY MISS LADY (Really, I have a name, and, hi, you see me on the phone, with 3 people in line, you can't ask a person on the floor your oh-so-important question about how to log into Myfuckingspace?)
9:47 This nonsense goes on for quite some time. Then, more nonsense happens. Then, I have to do a bunch of other shit. Then, I drink some coffee.
10:09ish Send out an email about a meeting. Forget to include the important detail about time.
10:10 Immediately get several emails telling me that I forgot to include the time, what time is the meeting, where are we meeting (which I included, which proves to me that you immediately started criticizing me when you saw that I forgot to include a time, rather than to continue reading and to ask me what time the meeting would take place), what time is the meeting, because, you forgot to include that.
10:15 Yell at a bunch of kids for playing their music loud. I remind them that the truancy patrol likes to come through and that they better have some really good excuses for being in here and not at home or in school. When they start to tell me their lame excuses, I put my hand up, halt their speaking with the dreaded 'librarian glare over the glasses' and tell them that they better sit down and shut up and think of a better excuse because truancy isn't going to buy the never-heard before story of "I'm home schooled."
10:30-11:30 NON STOP FUCKING QUESTIONS AND BITCHING ABOUT LIBRARY CARD ISSUES, which include the following:
-"I SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGNNNNNNNNED UP and now I can't get on a computer." First of all, cut the whining. You are a 50 year old man and you look like a gigantic, fat baby when you whine and make that face. I have no sympathy for you because I have a ton of shit to do and you just want to whine. Go re-sign up for the computer for being so dumb.
-"This thing isn't working. Why isn't it working?" Because you can't type your library card number correctly.
-"This isn't printing." You have to hit the print button in order for the printer to work.
-"This computer is dumb." Really, are you sure that it's not you? Usually, the computers tend to do ok by themselves, they start acting up when people touch them.
-"Do you have anyone here that can type this for me?" Does it LOOK like I have anyone here that can type it for you?
-"Those kids are breathing too loud." Oh, for pete's sakes, shut up.
-"If I write resume, can I just send it to everyone where I want to work?" Here's a grammar book. Read that first.
-"My compuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttttttttterrrrrrr isn't working."
"This shit is crazy. This library is all fucked up." When you can watch your language, maybe I'll give a shit.
And on and on and on and on that went until...
11:30ish Lemon Ricotta lady/throwing paper at me lady walks in and demands that I need to identify the bird in her backyard. I hate birds. They freak me out. I don't want to know what kind of birds are in my backyard, let alone yours. I can tell you that it probably has feathers, flies, likes to eat birdseed or worms, and chirps when the sun comes up. Happy? No, I didn't answer that? Well, here's a fieldguide to birds of North America. Oh, it's a hawk or a falcon? Well, here's a fieldguide to birds of prey of North America. Totter along now. What, the bird tried to eat your neighbor's Yorkie? Oh, then you need the birds of prey, a robin won't try to eat a Yorkie.
12:27 My phone rings with a call about a meeting, but I don't dare try to have a conversation because when my phone rings and I start talking, that's immediately the same time that 3-7 people all want my attention all at the same time. We live in a world where no one is patient, where no one can wait five fucking minutes when they see that a person is busy with something else because everyone is so selfish and insistent that their needs are the most important. Their needs could be so trivial as to involve indentifying the breed of dog that created the pile of crap that they stepped in on the way out the door, it doesn't matter, they want it now.
12:31 The fucking server goes down. Immediately, 7 angry people shift 14 eyeballs toward me because, I BROKE IT! I used my pyschic fucking powers and channeled a surge into the server room from the reference floor. About 5 seconds later, 7 mouths started to ask me "What's wrong?" "Can't I get a computer?" "I better not lose my place in line." "Why can't I log on to this computer?" "This isn't woooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkkkking." "I can't type in my numbers." "Can I sign up for a computer?" To all of these questions, I snap "It's broken. I don't know what's wrong with it. All of you are going to just have to be patient and wait and see if I can get it fixed." If I could have slapped all of them and told them to shut the fuck up and let me work on it, I would have. But, I think that administration must frown on me slapping people. I'm not sure how the rest of the world works, but when something is broken and I don't know why, I need at least 30 seconds of non-whining, non-bitching, non-complaining to get my thoughts together so that maybe, maybe, MAYBE I can figure it out. Because, the last time I checked, I'm a librarian, not a superhuman mind reader who can fix shit, listen to patrons whining, wipe your kid's nose, check out your materials, hand your kid coloring sheets, call security for kids smoking pot in the lobby all at the same time.
12:42 Finish with bird lady and whining computer guy, go into my car to eat almonds and try to make a phone call in peace. Almonds are a snack that will give me brain power and I need help today.
1:56 I need some tax papers. Oh fucking hell...
2:39 I hear a ruckus up at ye ol' circulation desk. Apparently, someone has gone off the chain because the clerk wouldn't give him a library card. Ummmmmm, gee, you want a new card with an expired id and you can't give your current address? Sure, would you like an American Express Black card while you're here? In the time it took me to get from my desk to the front of the library, the nutso without an address and the guard started arguing and the guard told him that if he can't calm down, the police will be called. Good god. I walked up there and calmed addressless nutso down and basically said the same thing everyone else said: you need to bring in something with your name on it, within 30 days, showing your address. Another patron standing nearby was amazed at my powers of calmness. Then, of course, he had to tell me how pretty I looked (yeah right, I have dirty hair, but maybe that's your thing) and wanted to know if I was married. In my signature move of awesomeness, I flashed my ring finger and said "8 Happy Years!" and walked off.
I'm going to lunch now. Maybe. I hope. That is, if a shithawk doesn't come in here and shit all over my lunch...
7:05 a.m. Listen to voicemail. "I can't come in today because I have boil on my bottom." FOR THE LOVE OF CREAM CHEESE ON A BAGEL WITH HAZELNUT COFFEE, I DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE FUCKING BOIL ON YOUR ASS. I don't bother to listen to the rest of the message. I just shut my eyes and lean back on the pillow, hoping to wipe the images of horror from my brain.
7:30 a.m. I hear the husband rustling around. He made coffee. Bless his heart. The problem is that I fall back asleep because the smell of coffee is so delicious and comforting. Of course, I wake up 15 minutes before I need to leave the house, which is JUST enough time for me to pour the coffee into my travel mug, brush my teeth, wash my face, and spray some lovely perfum on since I don't have time to shower. I probably should have gone with the Chanel to keep in line with the whole 'French shower thing,' but usually Chanel elicits responses of "you smelling good for your man?" from the creepiest patrons alive, so I went with the more sublte Marc Jacobs.
9:15 a.m. Roll into work. Patrons are already lined up outside. Actually, some are sitting in their cars in the lot having a "I can play my shitty rap music at 9 a.m. louder than you can play your shitty rap music at 9 a.m." contest. It's swell. No one wins.
9:20 Get into the building and promptly take 2 Advil.
9:30 I find myself standing at the circulation desk looking like a fool because the sub is late. You can imagine the horror.
9:45 MISS LADY THE COMPUTER ISN'T WORKING!
9:46 MISS LADY MISS LADY MISS LADY (Really, I have a name, and, hi, you see me on the phone, with 3 people in line, you can't ask a person on the floor your oh-so-important question about how to log into Myfuckingspace?)
9:47 This nonsense goes on for quite some time. Then, more nonsense happens. Then, I have to do a bunch of other shit. Then, I drink some coffee.
10:09ish Send out an email about a meeting. Forget to include the important detail about time.
10:10 Immediately get several emails telling me that I forgot to include the time, what time is the meeting, where are we meeting (which I included, which proves to me that you immediately started criticizing me when you saw that I forgot to include a time, rather than to continue reading and to ask me what time the meeting would take place), what time is the meeting, because, you forgot to include that.
10:15 Yell at a bunch of kids for playing their music loud. I remind them that the truancy patrol likes to come through and that they better have some really good excuses for being in here and not at home or in school. When they start to tell me their lame excuses, I put my hand up, halt their speaking with the dreaded 'librarian glare over the glasses' and tell them that they better sit down and shut up and think of a better excuse because truancy isn't going to buy the never-heard before story of "I'm home schooled."
10:30-11:30 NON STOP FUCKING QUESTIONS AND BITCHING ABOUT LIBRARY CARD ISSUES, which include the following:
-"I SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGNNNNNNNNED UP and now I can't get on a computer." First of all, cut the whining. You are a 50 year old man and you look like a gigantic, fat baby when you whine and make that face. I have no sympathy for you because I have a ton of shit to do and you just want to whine. Go re-sign up for the computer for being so dumb.
-"This thing isn't working. Why isn't it working?" Because you can't type your library card number correctly.
-"This isn't printing." You have to hit the print button in order for the printer to work.
-"This computer is dumb." Really, are you sure that it's not you? Usually, the computers tend to do ok by themselves, they start acting up when people touch them.
-"Do you have anyone here that can type this for me?" Does it LOOK like I have anyone here that can type it for you?
-"Those kids are breathing too loud." Oh, for pete's sakes, shut up.
-"If I write resume, can I just send it to everyone where I want to work?" Here's a grammar book. Read that first.
-"My compuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttttttttterrrrrrr isn't working."
"This shit is crazy. This library is all fucked up." When you can watch your language, maybe I'll give a shit.
And on and on and on and on that went until...
11:30ish Lemon Ricotta lady/throwing paper at me lady walks in and demands that I need to identify the bird in her backyard. I hate birds. They freak me out. I don't want to know what kind of birds are in my backyard, let alone yours. I can tell you that it probably has feathers, flies, likes to eat birdseed or worms, and chirps when the sun comes up. Happy? No, I didn't answer that? Well, here's a fieldguide to birds of North America. Oh, it's a hawk or a falcon? Well, here's a fieldguide to birds of prey of North America. Totter along now. What, the bird tried to eat your neighbor's Yorkie? Oh, then you need the birds of prey, a robin won't try to eat a Yorkie.
12:27 My phone rings with a call about a meeting, but I don't dare try to have a conversation because when my phone rings and I start talking, that's immediately the same time that 3-7 people all want my attention all at the same time. We live in a world where no one is patient, where no one can wait five fucking minutes when they see that a person is busy with something else because everyone is so selfish and insistent that their needs are the most important. Their needs could be so trivial as to involve indentifying the breed of dog that created the pile of crap that they stepped in on the way out the door, it doesn't matter, they want it now.
12:31 The fucking server goes down. Immediately, 7 angry people shift 14 eyeballs toward me because, I BROKE IT! I used my pyschic fucking powers and channeled a surge into the server room from the reference floor. About 5 seconds later, 7 mouths started to ask me "What's wrong?" "Can't I get a computer?" "I better not lose my place in line." "Why can't I log on to this computer?" "This isn't woooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkkkking." "I can't type in my numbers." "Can I sign up for a computer?" To all of these questions, I snap "It's broken. I don't know what's wrong with it. All of you are going to just have to be patient and wait and see if I can get it fixed." If I could have slapped all of them and told them to shut the fuck up and let me work on it, I would have. But, I think that administration must frown on me slapping people. I'm not sure how the rest of the world works, but when something is broken and I don't know why, I need at least 30 seconds of non-whining, non-bitching, non-complaining to get my thoughts together so that maybe, maybe, MAYBE I can figure it out. Because, the last time I checked, I'm a librarian, not a superhuman mind reader who can fix shit, listen to patrons whining, wipe your kid's nose, check out your materials, hand your kid coloring sheets, call security for kids smoking pot in the lobby all at the same time.
12:42 Finish with bird lady and whining computer guy, go into my car to eat almonds and try to make a phone call in peace. Almonds are a snack that will give me brain power and I need help today.
1:56 I need some tax papers. Oh fucking hell...
2:39 I hear a ruckus up at ye ol' circulation desk. Apparently, someone has gone off the chain because the clerk wouldn't give him a library card. Ummmmmm, gee, you want a new card with an expired id and you can't give your current address? Sure, would you like an American Express Black card while you're here? In the time it took me to get from my desk to the front of the library, the nutso without an address and the guard started arguing and the guard told him that if he can't calm down, the police will be called. Good god. I walked up there and calmed addressless nutso down and basically said the same thing everyone else said: you need to bring in something with your name on it, within 30 days, showing your address. Another patron standing nearby was amazed at my powers of calmness. Then, of course, he had to tell me how pretty I looked (yeah right, I have dirty hair, but maybe that's your thing) and wanted to know if I was married. In my signature move of awesomeness, I flashed my ring finger and said "8 Happy Years!" and walked off.
I'm going to lunch now. Maybe. I hope. That is, if a shithawk doesn't come in here and shit all over my lunch...
10 April 2010
Well, what DID you expect?
Crabby, pissy-looking old lady: [cue cracked, frail, wispy yet bitchy voice] I have a complaint [waives DVD around]
Me: How can I help you with that?
CPLOL: [stands in front of my desk, looking like a shrew just gnawed on her left cheek] This movie. This movie. OH, THIS MOVIE!
Me: Is there something wrong with it?
CPLOL: Well, look at it, just look at it, this...this... is...is...isssssss...issssss... OBSCENE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: [Looks at movie. The tagline of said movie is "Disgusting. Offensive. Stupid." On the cover, there is a man wielding a machine gun and a dumb looking female in a bikini standing next to a chimp with a midget] I'm sorry you didn't like it, can I help you find something else?
CPLOL: No. And I'll tell you what else, CHILDRRREEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNN [drags this out in bitchy yet frail voice] can see this!
Me: Actually, they can't check it out. A person has to be 18 to check out movies. [If she would have died right there, it would have been my fault because I totally knocked the wind out of her sails, her joi de vivre gone, gone, gone, gone baby]
CPLOL: Oh, well, what if a child sees this?
Me: I mean, I guess that they could watch it with their parents, but that's up to the parent. It is rated R and again, if a person is under 18, they can't check out movies.
CPLOL: Well, I still didn't like it. And I wanted to make sure you knew that I didn't like it!
I'm so glad that you're so important in life that you wanted to take ten minutes out of my day to complain about a movie with a chimp, a midget, a moron and a bimbo on the cover that is also rated R. Why the hell did you check it out in the first place?
Oh yeah, to bitch about something. It's not even a matter of children seeing it, it's a matter of you not liking it.
Me: How can I help you with that?
CPLOL: [stands in front of my desk, looking like a shrew just gnawed on her left cheek] This movie. This movie. OH, THIS MOVIE!
Me: Is there something wrong with it?
CPLOL: Well, look at it, just look at it, this...this... is...is...isssssss...issssss... OBSCENE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: [Looks at movie. The tagline of said movie is "Disgusting. Offensive. Stupid." On the cover, there is a man wielding a machine gun and a dumb looking female in a bikini standing next to a chimp with a midget] I'm sorry you didn't like it, can I help you find something else?
CPLOL: No. And I'll tell you what else, CHILDRRREEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNN [drags this out in bitchy yet frail voice] can see this!
Me: Actually, they can't check it out. A person has to be 18 to check out movies. [If she would have died right there, it would have been my fault because I totally knocked the wind out of her sails, her joi de vivre gone, gone, gone, gone baby]
CPLOL: Oh, well, what if a child sees this?
Me: I mean, I guess that they could watch it with their parents, but that's up to the parent. It is rated R and again, if a person is under 18, they can't check out movies.
CPLOL: Well, I still didn't like it. And I wanted to make sure you knew that I didn't like it!
I'm so glad that you're so important in life that you wanted to take ten minutes out of my day to complain about a movie with a chimp, a midget, a moron and a bimbo on the cover that is also rated R. Why the hell did you check it out in the first place?
Oh yeah, to bitch about something. It's not even a matter of children seeing it, it's a matter of you not liking it.
31 March 2010
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.
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.
30 March 2010
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.]
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.]
29 March 2010
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...
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
