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.
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.
posted by Madame Defarge at 3:13 PM
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