Things I will not miss about the public library

(Or, rather, people and behavior I will not miss.)

On Friday, shortly after I had delivered my resignation at job #1, one of my least favorite patrons arrived and planted himself in front of me. He's nearly deaf and always comes armed with a list of videos and old war books, none of which we ever own. One time I spent a good half hour trying to find a particular episode of Walker Texas Ranger for him--a pretty heroic feat, I might add, because he had the name of the show wrong and only had a sketchy plot outline of the episode. I freely admit that I'm not overly nice to him.

So I was a bit surprised when he planted himself in front of me and bellowed, "Are you my favorite?" To which I replied, "No." Perhaps I am, because he seemed disconcerted for a minute, but unfortunately it didn't make him move to the next available librarian. Instead, he handed me another list of old war books. When I found the first one at another library, I told him in my loudest voice that we'd call him when it came in. To which he replied (at the top of his lungs), "Speak up! I can't hear you when you talk in that bedroom voice!"

I completed the rest of our transaction in total silence, writing down what I needed to on a piece of paper and holding it up in front of him.

That was Friday. Tuesday I worked my second-to-last shift at my other job, which is technically reader's advisory but in reality tends to involve mostly directing people to other areas of the library, including meeting rooms. A very entitled mom presented herself at the desk and demanded to know in which room a presentation on a high school trip abroad was being held. We dutifully checked the schedule, but alas, there was no such program being held. To which she replied, "I know it's here, and I know it's on this floor." We again informed her that there was no such reservation, and I suggested she check the third floor, in case it was being held informally in one of the small-group study rooms. She verbally abused us instead and then took out her cell phone to verbally abuse whoever was coordinating the program; however, she must have misdialed, because her phone made that noise that generally precedes the "I'm sorry, but your call cannot be completed as dialed" recording. At which point she shouted "Jesus! Fuck!" and (I kid you not) stamped her feet. We both got really busy doing other things and ignored her until she stomped away, making the rounds of the meeting rooms and bitching loudly on her phone. Last I saw her she was headed down the stairs, because she apparently was in the wrong building (I'm guessing the program was either at one of the branch libraries or perhaps at the high school).

I have a hard time believing that a few hundred art students and faculty can be as rude as the general public.

And I quote

Transcript of a conversation I had with a patron last Friday afternoon. If I wasn't already completely insane, I think people like this would drive me to it.

Me: "Reference. May I help you?"

Her: "Help! Help! Help!"

Me: "....??"

Her: "This is [annoying person's name]. I just received a lovely box of gifts for Mother's Day, and it's full of styrofoam packing peanuts. I've been working on it for half an hour and my living room is full of them. Do you have any advice for me?"

Me: "You need information on .... how to dispose of them?"

Her: "How to get them out of the box! They're adhering to me. I guess I must just be electric!"

Me, failing miserably in my duty to serve: "I don't know what to tell you."

It never ceases to amaze me what people call the library for. And people say this profession is becoming obsolete. Who else would you trust to provide foam-peanut-unpacking information?

Another reason to move back to Chicago

I need someone to see this play about Warren G. Harding with me!

What if I have a Saturn?

On my way to work this morning I passed a restaurant with a sign out front advertising their Mother's Day brunch. Underneath, it said "RSRV" and gave a phone number. I'm trying to picture how this would work. Do you have to bring a Winnebago, or just call from one?

Summer project

As I was checking a couple of lists of the best travel books of all time against our library catalog tonight, I came up with a summer project for myself. Since it's not likely that I'm going to be taking a trip anytime in the too-near future (other than a weekend wedding in Oregon this fall), I decided to do some vicarious traveling and focus on reading travel books (the narrative kind, not the guidebook kind) over the summer. At least my mind will get to go somewhere! (God, I'm such a librarian!)

(In case you're interested, the lists are from Salon, National Geographic Traveler, and World Hum. There's quite a bit of overlap among them, but also quite a bit of good stuff to choose from.)

Book report: The Post-Birthday World

I've been in kind of a reading slump lately; I'm reading a lot, but nothing had really impressed me since My French Whore. Thankfully, I hit the jackpot lately with a few really good books that stayed with me even after I finished them--for me, that's one of the hallmarks of a good book.

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I put my name on the reserve list for The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver even though I thought the title could not have been worse. I still think the title was a mistake, but the book stopped me in my tracks. The premise is that in the first chapter (which takes place on another main character's birthday, hence the name), the protagonist, Irina, is faced with a choice. From that point on, there are two of each successive chapter, one that follows the story where she's made choice A and the other where she made choice B. And each set of chapters has roughly the same plot, but the actions that take place are completely and not-so-completely different depending on which version of the story it is.

In the book Irina is choosing between two men--staying with her long-time, dependable partner or leaving him for a fling with a bad-boy character. That makes the whole thing sound stupid and cliched, but the concept really resonated with me, since I've been preoccupied, especially lately, with how the choices we make, whether it's a school or a job or a partner, affect the direction of the rest of our lives. The thing I really liked about Shriver's book is that she didn't favor one choice or other as the obviously right one; there was plenty of good and bad in both versions of Irina's future. And what I found most intriguing was that, like the first chapter, there was only one last chapter, written ambiguously enough that it could have fit either version of the story. It was kind of comforting to think that no matter what, her life ended up turning out pretty much the same--although if that's the case, it's a little depressing to think that she (and, by extension, we) spent so much time agonizing over and second-guessing her choice.

To make things all about me as usual (but, hey, this is my blog, right?) I read the book in the middle of yet another round of obsessing about finding a job. To say I haven't been feeling a lot of love from the academic library world would be an understatement, and going back and forth about applying to public libraries and whether or not I'd be prematurely closing off one option in favor of another I'm not so sure about has been keeping me up at night.

In addition, I'm going to be meeting up with my old college roommate when my mom and I visit New York City in a couple of weeks, and although I'm thrilled about seeing her again after 6 years, knowing that I'll be hearing all about her life in NYC and her successful career as an editor at a big publishing house is going to make me second-guess every major choice I've made since college graduation is making me apprehensive about even getting together. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm not at the point right now where it's easy for me to be happy for other people without feeling horribly jealous of their success or self-confidence or happiness.

In that sense, though, the ending of Shriver's novel will make it a tiny bit easier to get over myself. Who knows--maybe in this choose-your-own-adventure world there really is some kind of master plan that's ultimately dictating our actions. And maybe believing that will make it a little easier to sleep at night no matter what choices I end up making.

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I realize that that was just one book. But it's almost 3:00, which means it's time to make dinner before I go to work. So stay tuned.