Weaned on a pickle

Some weeks ago, I got to attend an actual cultural event, a rare occurence in the life of a deskslave. Classical music performances are an expensive habit, so I don't get to go very often. It was a great performance, marred only by one of my least favorite patrons who just happened to be sitting behind me. I was polite enough, but tried to make it clear through subtle body language that I wasn't up for small talk. It didn't work of course, and she leaned forward to deliver her critique of each piece. Then, next time she was in the library when I was there, she wanted to talk about the performance again. Only not quite. She started with that, and then went into her own classical training in voice and piano. This might have been an actual conversation, only it was clear that I could have been anybody and she had absolutely no interest in me. She cared not for my opinion of the performer (much rosier than her own) or any training I might have had to get me to that opinion (not much, really). This alone might have given me reason to dislike her.
I think I already had good reasons, though. She constantly needs help on the computers. She is clueless, which is fine, but belligerent, which is not. She is a nasty summoner of help who expects you to fix things for her, not show her how to do things.
But the thing that put her in firmly in the despised column was something else. Like most libraries these days, we offer computer classes. Pretty basic stuff. Nastly lady has taken them all, many times. In classes she is nasty, barking out angrily when she doesn't understand something. We started offering classes in Spanish, too. We're all very proud of this, and the classes are well-attended and greatly appreciated. One day, nasty lady walked up to the desk with a bookmark in Spanish for the classes. She had her nastiest expression, her "weaned on a pickle" expression. Waving the bookmark, she said, "I see you're offering classes to the Mexicans. What about us?" Like we have no classes in English! Like she hadn't taken each one several times!

My Favorite Book Title Today

I'm not sure the kids are your target demographic

I found these on top of the fiction shelves in the Juvenile area.

At last a new poll

Have you ever seen books by authors Katie or Jasper Fforde? I have always wondered how to pronounce their last name. Now you can weigh in.

Can we please go analog on this?

Every day I see somebody playing solitaire on one of the public access computers. Theoretically, nobody's computer use is more important than anybody else's, but I'd like to make an exception for this one. Maybe we could have a pack of cards in reference that people could use. I can't imagine the online versions are that much more amazing that the redoubtable pack of Bicycles. Then again, we'd be missing a card or two in short order. When the deck checked back in from its two hour reserve, we'd have to count the cards just to make sure. And we'd have to have backup decks to plunder when one went missing. Maybe we would have to have a stat sheet at the desk to see how the decks we circulating and to see how often people needed help dealing out a proper hand. Then there would be meetings about how playing cards fit into the mission of today's public libraries and one person would be constantly and sourly pointing out that we don't have cribbage or a double deck for canasta. The inevitable counter-argument would, of course, be that we have the cards for individuals, not for groups and then we'd have to have a workgroup to explore the possibility of providing cards for groups of people, how many people could use them at one time, should we provide poker chips, etc. And since we try to be multicultural and inclusive, they'd have to look into providing some other culturally appropriate games, like Mah Jong, perhaps.

OK. Never mind. You want to play solitaire? Fabulous. The computer is right over there.

I wish I could take credit for this one

In the half hour before we close, we do several sweeps of the joint to remind everybody that we will soon close and that the intercom announcements were in earnest. There are several places that are off the beaten path, and people seem to collect there. These are the people who pretty much have to be shooed out of the building when we close. It's almost like they feel that if we don't escort them off the premises they get to spend the night here or something. So we check all the little nooks and run people off. A clever colleague came up with a name for those who must be sought out: Easter Eggs. So pardon me while I conduct the last Easter Egg hunt of the night.

...but jerkitude is timeless

As I never tire of telling you, your humble deskslave is a middle-aged guy. As such, I am seen as an authority figure by the young, who calibrate their nastiness toward me accordingly. It should not come as a surprise to me that other middle aged guys might not have the same attitude towards me. I should know better--middle-aged white guys can be kind of a problem. Anyway, a guy my age walks up and asks if we have a DVD called "Musical Instincts."
I key the title in, making sure that the thing I'm typing is what he wants. If he has the title wrong, we can figure it out later. No luck, so I start asking questions about the DVD. Using my finely honed reference interview skills, I determined that he had seem something called "Musical Instincts" on PBS the night before and expected that, because it had been on TV in the distant past (14 or so hours ago), we would not only own it, but have it on the shelf. I was still trying to see if we had the name right, so I was poking around the PBS website. I suspected that if it was just on TV, it might not yet be on DVD. While I plunged through the labyrinth of the PBS site, I asked,
"Is it new?"
"Whatsa matter," he sneered, leaning in, "Dontcha have new things? Only old things?" It was an actual sneer with the full complement of contempt. I'm not sure I have been sneered at as an adult. It's something you see in movies. Perhaps even in "Musical Instinct." I was really taken aback. I had asked a legit question. I have an acronym that pops into my head at moments like this: TOFTS, which stands for Too Old For This Stuff, only I use a saltier word than stuff. So, I was getting no more mi casa es tu casa from my demographic equal than I would from a disaffected youth.
"Sorry," I smiled in a manner I was hoping was beatific or at least winning, "we have nothing by that title." I busied myself with something else. He stood there for a moment. I was done asking questions, and eventually he figured this out.