The Mappie McNally Thing, I Mean

Mr. Scruffy walked up to the desk. “Do you have a national atlas?”

Ever the helpful reference librarian, I sought to narrow it down. I wanted to ask if he wanted a Rand-McNally road atlas or if he wanted a political atlas or a historical one or what.

I stammered for a second because I couldn’t remember the name Rand-McNally. "A...uh...um..."

He leaned in a bit. “A map,” he said firmly. “You do know what a map is, right? I want a map.”

We are told all the time not to take things personally, which is easier said than done. It's not about you, by which I mean that it's not about me. He's the one having a bad day/week/season/incarnation and I just happen to be in the way. Or something.

I really wanted to say something mean, especially since the leaning in made me realize that his aftershave was losing the fight with his cigarette habit. (Ladies: do you actually like the man-scents that the boys put on? I find them repulsive and strive to live an unscented life.) As a dedicated deskslave who is not permitted to vent at the public, I went passive-aggressive and just gave him the call number and went back to my work. I almost felt bad, since I actually hate librarians who do that.