Now that I've almost recovered from the week and have some time to think without running from building to building, I can tell you all about Monday's funfunFUN! This Monday was pretty bad, because it was a payroll Monday and I rolled in from a long car trip on Sunday night, so I was really tired and really irriated about payroll AND had a stupid migraine brewing, so I was a hot mess of pissedofflibrarianism.
Before 2 p.m., I dealt with payroll, the 911 lady, the idiot that ripped off a chunk of concrete and threw it at the building, and then had to have an hour long family counseling session with a boy who vandalized the building Monday morning, the police, his two grown cousins, and his grandmother. That piece was pretty sad, so I'm not going get into it, but the 911 call is fun for the whole family. Read it at Sunday dinner for good laughs all around! Here ya go...
Within 5 minutes of walking into the building (thank GOD I was done with the difficult part of payroll), this woman starts yelling about how she loves Michael Jackson. Well, duh, who doesn't, but this is a library, not a Michael Jackson revival. Shut the fuck up.
I move my eyes to the entrance with a furtive glance of seething at the cause of the noise. The clerk sees me glaring and tells her to keep her voice down, lest I have to get up. Sometimes, I feel like the steretypical 1950s father with the library and its staff. "Don't make your father/manager get up, if you do, he's going to be mad." If I have to get up from my desk and walk all the way down the long damned hallway, you betcha someone is going to get ripped a new one. Also, as a side note, I am NOT one of those "YOU ARE IN THE LIBRARY, HERE IS YOUR LIST OF RULES, DON'T TALK OR I WILL BEAT YOU WITH THE AACR2" librarians. Just sayin'.
Bigmouth lasts about 5 minutes before she has a revelation that Janet Jackson IS really Michael Jackson's sister. Stop the presses. Whoah. Really. Thanks for letting a whole library full of people know that. We would have NEVER MADE THAT CONNECTION WITHOUT YOU! I got up to tell her to please keep her voice down and she grabbed my arm and insisted that I went to high school with her. Don't think so. I went to high school in a different town. Not even close. Apparently, this was her shtick, because she told every third person in the library that she went to high school with them. People were getting annoyed, myself included, but that doesn't really count because I'm always annoyed.
Apparently, that revelation about the Jackson family wasn't enough to satisfy Bigmouth for the day. She signed up for a computer (we have this nifty little machine that assigns you to a computer when you put your library card number in, thus pretty much absolving staff from being screamed at by patrons who think we are playing favoritism with the computer sign-up lists) and missed her turn. The lady that was paying attention was up next, got on the computer she was assigned to, and started working on her resume. I know, saints be praised, a non-creeper, 50 yeard old fucker that didn't want to look at porn at 10 a.m. with all females employees in the building.
In about ten minutes, Bigmouth saw the lady using the computer Bigmouth decided was hers and started screaming (because that's the best way to communicate, isn't it?) at the woman "YOU GOTTA BOUNCE! BOUNCE! OFF MY COMPUTER! IT'S MINE!"
Well, fuck, the rest of the staff looked terrified and I got up to deal with it. The perks of management are never ending. I told Bigmouth that she needs to keep her comments to herself, that she missed her turn, that the lady on computer 2 is assigned to it, and that Bigmouth needs to re-sign up. Bigmouth looked stunned. Apparently, because we were both white, meant that I had to kick the black lady off the computer. I don't care if you're a purple alien--the kind from Mars, not Mexico, although, I'm fine with those aliens too--as long as you're polite and quiet and aren't a total fucking disruptive jackass, I'm not going to favor some stark raving assface just because we have the same skin color. Uh huh.
Since I put Bigmouth in her place, she decided she didn't want a computer anymore, she wanted to color. The children's librarian gave her some coloring pages and crayons. All was quiet until she grabbed the security guard and told him she needed an ambulance because she was having a heart attack.
The guard came up to me. I'm not a doctor, I'm not evaluating shit, so I just called 911. I've called 911 so many times that it doesn't even faze me anymore. Someone could have an arm cracked in half or lost an eyeball on a ballpoint pen or had their lower intestine fall out in the men's restroom, and I would be that eerily calm voice calling in to 911. Those eerily calm voices you hear on the 911 tapes on the 6 o'clock news are either homicidal maniacs or librarians. No normal person could be calm on those recordings except these two groups.
911 Dispatch: What is your emergency?
Me: I'm at [address] and I have a woman in the library that says she feels like she's having a heart attack. She says her chest is burning. She is a caucasian female, 41 years old. [I told you I was good.]
911 D: Is she awake?
Me: [looks over] Yes, she's talking to the security guard.
911 D: Is she upright?
Me: Yes, she's looking through her purse.
911 D: Ok. [Pauses, because you know he's thinking WTF?!] Is she turning blue or look like she's struggling to breath?
Me: No, she's still looking through her purse.
911: No signs of distress, ok. [Asks a bunch of health questions, like if she took aspirin or other meds that I had no clue because I'm not this loonatic's keeper and nor do I care, at this point, I just want her out of the damned library because she's wasting my time with her irriating need for attention in any form]. Ok, we'll dispatch an ambulance.
I told Bigmouth that I called EMS and then she wanted me to sit down and chat with her and organize her purse. Sure, because if I was having a heart attack, I'd want the librarian to organize my purse. I guess if I had pot or meth in there, I might ask her to go flush it, but she wanted me to find her health care card. I told her I had to go wait for EMS and that I didn't have time to look through her belongings. She grinned at me stupidily. I went outside to flag the ambulance into the parking lot, which arrived within 5 minutes, I told the paramedics where nutso was sitting.
As if the rest of her craziness wasn't funny enough, it's about to get much better.
Paramedic 1: [asking generic questions].
Paramedic 2: We're going to take your pulse, check your breathing.
Bigmouth: I broke my foot.
Me: [looks incredulous]
P1: I thought you said you were having a heart attack?
Me: [interrupting, because there is no way you are going to say you broke your foot in the library to try to sue us when you walked in of your own accord, when you were walking around all morning shaking people and insisting you went to high school with them, and when there was no crash or accident] That's what she told the guard and that's what he told me.
Bigmouth: No, it's my foot. Well, I have asthma.
P1: What happened to your foot?
Bigmouth: A dresser fell on it. [Pause.] Then a fan fell on it. [Pause.] Then a computer fell on it.
P2: [turning to me] How did she get into the building?
Me: She walked in.
Bigmouth: [smiling] But it didn't hurt then, I think I re-broke it in here.
P2: So, [turning to Bigmouth], you have no chest pains right now?
Bigmouth: I feel fine. Except my foot. It's broken. I need a cast. Wheel me out of here. Do you have a wheelchair.
Me: [you're going to need a wheelchair when I get done with you, you've wasted 45 minuets of my time already] No. It's a library. We don't rent out wheelchairs.
P1: Ok, well, can you walk out? [Made no indication whatsoever that they were going to put this attention whore on a stretcher, and good for him!]
Bigmouth: I'm going to need help. [P1 and Guard go to each side of her and walk as she hobbles].
Bigmouth: [Sees a flyer annoucing a libray event] Oh, yeah, hey, get me one of those .
P2: [give me the look and waits until Bigmouth is further ahead] She's nutso.
Me: You got it darlin'. She's been in here all morning, yelling, almost started a fight with a patron, then she was coloring. She just wants attention.
[We laugh]
Bigmouth: OH, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY! [Sees some guy walking down the hall] Didn't we go to LocalHigh together?
Guy: Uhhhh, ummmm, sure. Yeah.
Bigmouth: Class of 87! Class of 87! [At this point, she forgets that her foot is "broken" and stops mid-hallway to talk to her "classmate. The paramedics, myself, and security guard just kinda stand there, clogging up traffic coming into the branch. Apparently, seeing an old faux-classmate of yours is just the trick to fixing a broken bone. Who knew! Conversation ends and she tells us:] MY FOOT! MY FOOT! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, my FOOT!
P2: You were just standing there talking to that guy and moving around, I don't think your foot can hurt that much.
Bigmouth: It does. It comes and goes. What hospital are you taking me to? I went to Southside Hospital last week and they were mean to me. [Maybe because you're a collassal pain in the ass and just want attention so you make up stupid shit and were wasting their time too?]
P1: That's out of or way, we aren't taking you there.
Bigmouth: Well, don't take me to Central Hospital either. [Like you have options, like this is a choice. I know exactly where they're taking you, LooneyTunes].
P2: We aren't going there.
Me: I need this for my records, where are you taking her?
P2: We're taking her to SuperResearch Hospital. [Code for: mental ward.]
Me: Oh. Thanks and uh, good luck with that.
P2: Yeah.
Bigmouth: BYE BYE EVERYONE!
Thus concludes lesson #863 on "What they don't teach you in library school."
14 May 2010
06 May 2010
You better listen to me!
Mumbling Guy on Phone: Can you look up a movie for me?
Me: Sure, what's the name of it?
MGOP: Mublemumblemumblesizeme.
Me: It seems like we have a bad connection [meaning you couldn't put down the hash pipe a half an hour before calling us so you would at least sound mildly not-high], did you say you wanted me to see if we had Super Size me?
MGOP: No, I want mumblemumblemumblemumblesizeme.
Me: Just so I know I have the right movie, you want the documentary with the guy who eats McDonald's for 30 days?
MGOP: No, I want [I shit you not] "Shush her for sizing me."
Me: [Sounding somewhat incredulous] You want a movie called "Shush her for sizing me?"
MGOP: Mumblemumblemumble my friend mumblemumblemumblemumble. Mumblemumblemumble, mumble mumble, lieberry, mumble, mumble. Mumble.
Me: [This motherfucker is ASKING ME FOR PORN!] I don't think that's the type of movie that libraries carry.
MGOP: You better listen to me! [Ok, so now you can speak clearly? It's such an outrage that the library doesn't have porn that it suddenly causes you to sober up and be outraged? I bet you ate Cheetos with maple syrup for breakfast too and called it haute cuisine] I want "Shush her for sizing me." The other guy mumblemumble [here we go again] coulnd't find it. I want it.
Me: We don't have it.
MGOP: Are you listening to me?
Me: Yes, you want the movie "Shush her for sizing me" [at this point, staff is starting to look at me funny as well as are other patrons and I have to wonder if this guy is getting off on asking me to repeat the name of this.] and no library carries it.
MGOP: Mumble. Mumblemumble. Mumble, mumble, mumblemumblemumble, where do I mumblemumble get mumblemumble it?
Me: Perhaps an adult video store?
MGOP: Mumblemumblethanksmumblemumblebye.
Me: Sure, what's the name of it?
MGOP: Mublemumblemumblesizeme.
Me: It seems like we have a bad connection [meaning you couldn't put down the hash pipe a half an hour before calling us so you would at least sound mildly not-high], did you say you wanted me to see if we had Super Size me?
MGOP: No, I want mumblemumblemumblemumblesizeme.
Me: Just so I know I have the right movie, you want the documentary with the guy who eats McDonald's for 30 days?
MGOP: No, I want [I shit you not] "Shush her for sizing me."
Me: [Sounding somewhat incredulous] You want a movie called "Shush her for sizing me?"
MGOP: Mumblemumblemumble my friend mumblemumblemumblemumble. Mumblemumblemumble, mumble mumble, lieberry, mumble, mumble. Mumble.
Me: [This motherfucker is ASKING ME FOR PORN!] I don't think that's the type of movie that libraries carry.
MGOP: You better listen to me! [Ok, so now you can speak clearly? It's such an outrage that the library doesn't have porn that it suddenly causes you to sober up and be outraged? I bet you ate Cheetos with maple syrup for breakfast too and called it haute cuisine] I want "Shush her for sizing me." The other guy mumblemumble [here we go again] coulnd't find it. I want it.
Me: We don't have it.
MGOP: Are you listening to me?
Me: Yes, you want the movie "Shush her for sizing me" [at this point, staff is starting to look at me funny as well as are other patrons and I have to wonder if this guy is getting off on asking me to repeat the name of this.] and no library carries it.
MGOP: Mumble. Mumblemumble. Mumble, mumble, mumblemumblemumble, where do I mumblemumble get mumblemumble it?
Me: Perhaps an adult video store?
MGOP: Mumblemumblethanksmumblemumblebye.
Christian Movies
Lady: Do you have any Christian movies?
Me: Are there certain ones you're looking for?
Lady: Christian movies [glances at our wall o' DVDs].
Me: Well, the DVDs are arranged alphabetically by their title. They aren't separated by western, comedy, or Christian.
Lady: [literally, scrunches up her nose] Well, why?
Me: Because they aren't. [Runs off to go deal with kids fighting in the parking lot].
You wonder why I'm turning into a callous bitch? If this lady knew how many times I get asked this mind-numbing question of stupidness, she'd get irritated too. To give you an idea, our DVDs are shelved so that they take up the entire wall. It works the best for browsing and for space issues. On our busiest days, we can't even keep up with putting them back on the shelf, let alone divide them into genres. Plus, we just don't have the extra space. Plus, it's so time consuming and there just is not enough staff to dedicate to shifting and moving dvds. I mean, they're all on one wall, BROWSE IT! If not, use the card catalog, because, clearly, I have to do damage control with kids fighting. Unless the DVDs start beating the shit out of each other, you're outta luck lady.
Me: Are there certain ones you're looking for?
Lady: Christian movies [glances at our wall o' DVDs].
Me: Well, the DVDs are arranged alphabetically by their title. They aren't separated by western, comedy, or Christian.
Lady: [literally, scrunches up her nose] Well, why?
Me: Because they aren't. [Runs off to go deal with kids fighting in the parking lot].
You wonder why I'm turning into a callous bitch? If this lady knew how many times I get asked this mind-numbing question of stupidness, she'd get irritated too. To give you an idea, our DVDs are shelved so that they take up the entire wall. It works the best for browsing and for space issues. On our busiest days, we can't even keep up with putting them back on the shelf, let alone divide them into genres. Plus, we just don't have the extra space. Plus, it's so time consuming and there just is not enough staff to dedicate to shifting and moving dvds. I mean, they're all on one wall, BROWSE IT! If not, use the card catalog, because, clearly, I have to do damage control with kids fighting. Unless the DVDs start beating the shit out of each other, you're outta luck lady.
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
Movies, we got movies for sale, get your movies!
A guy walks into the library (no, it's not the start of some pervy joke) and decides he's going to hand out his flyers in the library.
I'm not sure where I was, but I'm pretty strict about this because people will try to post ANYTHING in the library. By anything, I mean, A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I've had people want to post sales ads for cars, wanted posters for missing kids, flyers with "Have you seen my baby daddy" scrawled all over them with a photocopy of his driver's license on it, flyers advertising home sales, car sales, day care services and even "escort services."
The security guard intercepted the guy and told him that he couldn't put the flyers in the library. The guard I have is a smart guy and perceptive and was 100% correct.
When the guard told the guy he couldn't hand these out, the guy got pissy.
"It's my biz-naz! Y'all can get some good deals on movies."
The guard explained to the man that he was soliciting and that isn't allowed. The guard further explained the movies are obviously bootlegs and that's not really legal.
My most favorite part of this is not that these are bootlegs, not that they guy was peddling them in the library, but the price structure. Look carefully!
I'm not sure where I was, but I'm pretty strict about this because people will try to post ANYTHING in the library. By anything, I mean, A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I've had people want to post sales ads for cars, wanted posters for missing kids, flyers with "Have you seen my baby daddy" scrawled all over them with a photocopy of his driver's license on it, flyers advertising home sales, car sales, day care services and even "escort services."
The security guard intercepted the guy and told him that he couldn't put the flyers in the library. The guard I have is a smart guy and perceptive and was 100% correct.
When the guard told the guy he couldn't hand these out, the guy got pissy.
"It's my biz-naz! Y'all can get some good deals on movies."
The guard explained to the man that he was soliciting and that isn't allowed. The guard further explained the movies are obviously bootlegs and that's not really legal.
My most favorite part of this is not that these are bootlegs, not that they guy was peddling them in the library, but the price structure. Look carefully!
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...
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