Today's Thought

Here's something to meditate upon, dear readers (all none of you):

What sound is more beautiful than even a baby's laughter? More beautiful than the songbird in spring?

The heavy clunk of the library door shutting behind the last patron.

Actual Cell Phone Conversations

Made By Actual Library Patrons Shortly Before Being Told to Leave the Library By Deskslaves. An Ongoing Series.

[Ringtone]
Hello?
What?
Yeah!
What?
I'm in the Library!
What?
No, the Library!
No! I'M IN THE LIBRARY!
WHAT????

Want to know what I learned today?

I learned that the wacko left wing liberals are opposed to all forms of energy. As a provisional member of that group, one who just plundered the plate of fudge made by a volunteer, I can assure you that many of us are not averse to food energy.

Already sick of Twitter

Just thought you'd like to know.

Last Minute Tax Tip

If you gather a bunch of tax forms at the library and then later decide that you don't want them for whatever reason (losing interest in the whole taxpaying thing, distracted by small, shiny object and/or DVD cover, etc.) just toss them on the floor. Don't worry, some deskslave or other will be more than happy to pick them up.

If Only We Carried Time Machines at the Library

Patron comes in on Friday for a program at 2pm. The only problem is, there IS NO program at 2pm. Patron insists. Patron says the information is online. She got it from a friend. My colleague and I show that we are doing everything humanly possible to track down some information and magically generate a program. It's supposed to be for the storytelling festival. I rack my brain. Do I know stories? Can I tell stories? Panic! It's an event for grown-ups and all I can do is a puppet presentation of The Very Hungry Caterpillar!

Patron makes an off-hand comment which is supposed to sound like it's not a big deal, but really it intends to make us feel guilty and ashamed: "Well, I didn't have to come too far, because I live nearby, but my friend who was going to join me here would have been driving clear from the other side of town, except for that she just called me 5 minutes ago to say she isn't coming." First, I'm thinking that the friend was kind of a jerk to stand up her friend at the last minute. Second I'm coaching myself, "Don't...take...on...guilt. Not...your...fault." It's the Protestant in me that wants to feel guilty I guess.

So my colleague shows me the online advertisement for the event, and sure enough, 2pm at the Tualatin Library. We continue to stutter and stall and wonder aloud for a few minutes, feeling frustrated at how stupid we look. Then I catch one important detail, typed at the top of the webpage. It's a press release, and you got it! It's dated April 10, 2007. So I laughed and pointed at the patron and said, "HA HA, YOU WERE WRONG! IT WASN'T US, HA HA! NO MISTAKE ON OUR PART! THE MISTAKE IS YOURS, MADAME!" Well, not really. In reality, we all lightly chuckled about it, and I kind of cringed for her, and then she slipped away as quickly as she could. If I were her, I'd dump her friend, for sending her old event info AND standing her up. But what do I know.

It was a waiting game

But I won. The subject was an older gent, resistant to newfangled technology like online catalogs and soap, so when he wants his movies, we have to look them up for him. Which is fine, except for the old guy funk he exudes. (When I am an old man--in about 3 months--and I have old guy funk, for God's sake, please let me know. I suspect that the sniffer slowly goes and there are all these old guys walking around thining they smell like roses.)Typically, what he wants is too new, so he goes on the holds list. I plowed through the first 4 on his long list, and then the unlikely happened. One of his films was on the shelf. I told him that it "should be over there, on the shelf."
"I'd like it if I could have it," he said. I was suspicious that he wanted me to go play fetch, something I am reluctant to do. My expensive MLS only gets used for real professional activities, like ejecting surly teens for swearing, so I ignored his remark. I mean, I'd like it if everybody who walked in gave me a 10 dollar bill, but I wouldn't expect anybody to take action if I was silly enough to vocalize the thought.
"Anything else today?" I asked brightly.
There was. Several more requests, one or two of which were on the shelf. I put holds on the missing, but for the ones that were in, he said something like, "I'd like that one, too."
When our transaction was complete, at least in my mind, I gave him a rough estimate of how long some of his holds would take, ranging from "soon" to "when DVD players are obsolete." I then reminded him of where he could find the DVDs that were presumably in, which is to say I pointed to the shelf 7 feet away.
"So I'm supposed to get them myself?" he asked, all astonished, like I'd just told him he'd have to perform his own appendectomy.
"Uh huh." I nodded, smiling. "They're in alphabetical order by title."
"What if I can't find them?"
"Let me know and I'll take a look."
For a moment he stood there looking like a monument to indecision. I began typing in earnest, suddenly absorbed in returning an email. And then he shoved off to find his own damn videos. A petty victory, to be sure dear reader, but we take 'em where we can get 'em.