Great Moments in Irony, Part 7,238

Today, the woman who reaked of cigarette smoke who did not want to walk all the way over to look at the exercize videos.

Today, the dad who shouted at his toddler to stop making noise.

The irony meter is getting a workout here at Deskslave Central.

Not "Where is the large print?"

Not, "Do you have any large print." Rather it was. "Why don't you have any large print?" Which we do. Big sign. Prominent location for the collection. Lots of stuff.

Not, "Thanks...I guess I overlooked it. My eyesight isn't what it used to be. Rather it was, "Oh."

Welcome to the Jungle...I Mean Interwebs

A patron asked for the Better Business Bureau for the Internet. He had come across a web site that offended him and he wanted to report it. I wanted to tell him to look it up in the Internet Yellow Pages. But, being a good deskslave, I did not.

Well that was unpleasant

We were more or less ready to open on time. Five minutes before we needed to unlock, a coworker went out to gather items from the bookdrop. He left the door open and an alert patron zoomed in and planted himself at a catalog computer. I felt like a jerk, but I asked him to go back out to the lobby. He was offended. He referred to his watch, noting in an irritated fashion that we were going to open in five minutes. I countered, in a reasonable tone I hope, that if I let him in early, I'd have to let everyone in early. I was sure, I told him, that he understood. He didn't, but he got up and walked toward the door.
"OK," he intoned tartly, "I'll wait out here for THREE MINUTES."
Me, big smile like I was happy we were on the same page, "Great! Thanks!"

I resist you, little cat

So far, I have avoided reading this one. Just because it's in a library doesn't mean I want anything to do with it. I also hate the subtitle. "The small-town library cat who touched the world." It seems like they are claiming too much, like all those books about one thing that is responsible for the modern world, like Mark Kurlansky's book about the humble cod, or Simon Winchester's The Map that Changed the World, or John Griffiths' Tea: The Drink That Changed the World, or any number of books that attempt to shove minor players on to center stage. My part of the world has yet to be touched by Dewey, and now that the book is dropping off the bestseller lists, I doubt that will change.

No notary. No lawyer. No embalmer either.

But we got a librarian! I just had to break the bad news. No notary. Oh, the outrage! Oh, the dudgeon!

So, all three of my readers, do you think public libraries should have notaries?

Requiescat In Pace, Ya Freak

I was surprised, but not saddened by the King of Pop's demise. I never liked the guy, to be frank. My older sister liked to spin the Jackson 5's 45s* ALL THE TIME when we were kids. She particularly liked the song "Ben" which was about a boy's love for a pet rat, if I remember correctly. My dislike was compounded many years later when a girlfriend with whom I shared a love for bands like Pere Ubu, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Ramones, the Clash and such like suddenly became a fan of Thriller, which was only marginally more understandable to me than becoming a Scientologist. I wish I had seen that the relationship was doomed when she got one of those 80s hairgel-intensive hairdos to better enjoy her newfound infatuation with the Gloved One, but I didn't and you don't need to know the sordid details of the relationship's demise. Just know that it wasn't nice and Mr. Jackson shares some of the responsibility. Still, I guess he was talented and in spite of the sad trainwreck of personal life, he didn't deserve to go at the age of 50, which seems younger and younger all the time to me.

HOWEVER, being the nasty, bitter, sneering deskslave I am, I couldn't help but think of other performers who have plagued my life who deserved to die instead. It's not a long list. Feel free to comment in additions to it:

Elton John
Billy Joel
Elton John
Barry Manilow
Elton John
Rod Stewart
Sir Paul McCartney
Elton John
Sting
Phil Collins, even though he disappeared a long time ago
and of course, Elton John.

And, just out of spite, here are a few who were just irritations and not fully deserving of the Deep Six:
Lionel Ritchie
Hall and Oates.



*To those of you who grew up during the Holocene and not before like me, there used to be these vinyl platters called records which behaved in much the same way as your fancy CDs of today. Only they were huge, damage-prone and revolved at the stately and dignified rate of 33 times per minute, unlike your aforesaid fancy CDs which twirl at a frenetic 500 or so. They also only set you back about 1 hour of minimum wage work, unlike CDs which is more like two hours. There was also a 2-song record that was smaller and clocked 45 laps per minute. These could be had for 99 cents, making them inexpensive enough to allow my sister to buy plenty of future-deskslave-punishing music like The Jackson 5, the Osmonds, Three Dog Night and Sonny and Cher.