Almost fooled me

I was just asked if we had any upstairs bathrooms. Since we only have one floor, did he mean do we have a secret upstairs annex with a sumptuously appointed biffy, or does he know about a secret basement with God knows what? I just let him know where he could find the restroom I knew about.

Remember: I'm the idiot here

It probably should have been a simple transaction. "Has your computer system changed?" the patron asked me. I'm sure she knew exactly what she meant, but I sure didn't. I gave it a stab.
"You mean the computers you look up books with?"
Fail.
"No, your system."
"The public Internet computers?"
"Yes." Success, yet still stupid. I could actually hear the italics in her voice.
"Not recently."
"So it's the same?"
"As when?"
"As always!"
Where to go with this? "Uhhh...we replaced the CPUs last summer and there are periodic updates to software, but...."
"Click." I heard. I think it was the phone.

Loribl Wins!!

Well done, Loribl, you were correct! It was indeed Yogi Bear. Not sure how the word drama ended up there. Maybe it was the tension we see between Yogi and Boo Boo about whether to play by the rules or throw caution to the wind. So maybe it should have been something like

Relationships, ursine, drama

In any event, I'm not used to people posting comments, so I wasn't thinking that this was an actual contest, with maybe a prize, but what the heck. I have before me a powells.com gift card with at least 80 cents on it. Shoot me an email, Loribl, at the name of this blog at gmail.com and I'll send you back all the data you will need to maybe trim the shipping price a little on your next order.

Always helpful, those librarians

Don't get me wrong. Good cataloging is good public service. I respect the profession a lot. But sometimes they get it wrong. Case in point: here are the subject headings for an item I saw in WorldCat. See if you can guess what these subjects describe...

Look You

I'm not throwing away old magazines. I'm a professional librarian, for heaven's sake. I'm deaccessioning superannuated serial publications.

Seen a kid? Sure.

He rode a scooter into the library, so I was not exactly favorably disposed towards him. The young man, after dismounting and being reminded about riding in the library, he asked if we had seen a kid. It was about 30 minutes after opening on a busy Sunday, we told him, we've seen lots of kids.
"About yea tall?" he clarified, holding his hand palm-down at eye level.
I shrugged. My colleage shrugged.
"Curly hair? More shrugs. "Well, kind of curly." Again with the shrugs.
Sensing that he wasn't going to give up soon, my colleage recommended that he look around for his friend since there were too many people here for us to take notice of everybody. Dejectedly, he scootered off. I chased him down to remind him of the conversation we'd had not three minutes previously about not riding scooters in the library.
"Oh, sorry," he said, dismounting. "Hey! You seen a kid, 'bout yea tall?"

Irony so thick and creamy it could be a dessert topping

I was just reshelving the book

Invest Like a Shark.

It may well be a great investment book, I have no idea. But somebody returned it with the bookmark still in it. Irony drumroll....it was a lottery ticket.

The cover is blue, I think

The young man wanted a particulr book about Norse mythology. The cover was blue, he was pretty sure. I took him to our section that has Norse mythology. Lots of borrowed, nothing blue. I was pretty polite when he asked if we could Interlibrary loan this item for him.

A theme was established later when he came back looking for a collection of Thor comic books.

Suddenly I'm the Jerk

A guy came up to the desk inquiring about free dental care. Actually, he said he needed a dentist. Quickly applying my RefSkillz, I ascertained that he lived in the immediate area and prepared a listing of local dentists using the excellent ReferenceUSA database. Printing it out, I noted which dentists were closest to DeskSlaveCentral.
"Are they free?" he asked, grabbing the proffered sheet of paper.
"Kinda doubt it."
He dropped the paper and fixed me with a "you dumbass" look. The look was practiced, like he spent a lot of time putting up with idiots like me who were unfamiliar with deep subtext and mind reading.
"It's gotta be free," he sneered, "I can't pay for no dentist."
I was inclined tell him that I couldn't either and you didn't see me whining about it. Instead, I told him that I'd see what I could do, but I held out little hope. I also asked him to check back in a while since the would-be reference customers were stacking up. At this point, he became like the paperboy in the John Cusack movie "Better Off Dead" where he keeps cropping up every few scenes wanting his two dollars. He kept circling back, giving me the hairy eyeball every few minutes.
Eventually I found several low-cost dental outfits that serve uninsured, low-income people. During the next stinkeye pass, I handed him the list, being careful to note that none of the listed places would be without charge.
I thought that would be the end of it. But he was back an hour later to give me hell because none of the numbers I gave him offered free dentistry.

Tax Time FAQ

Where are the tax forms?
Right behind you.

Where?
Right over there.

Here?
Yes.

Should I use this form?
I don't know.

Maybe this one?
Really, I don't know.

Why can't you tell me?
I'm not allowed to give tax advice. I'm not a tax professional. I'm a lowly deskslave.

I'm not asking for tax advice, it's just information.
Look, even if I was allowed to give tax advice, you wouldn't want my advice. I don't even do my own taxes. I'm lucky to find my way to work.

Why don't you have tax forms any more?
We do.

Then where are they?
Right behind you.

Is there somebody who will do my taxes for me?
We have some volunteers who offer help. It's by appointment only. All the slots were filled months ago. I can put you on this very long waiting list, though.

So nobody will do my taxes for me?
Well, actually, you can have the IRS calculate your taxes for you.

Really? How do I do that?
Here, it's this form here, the Schedul D'OH! Just fill in your name and check off the box where it says: "I'm a chicken, please pluck me."

Where's the tax forms at?
Right there.

Which one am I supposed to do?
I don't know.

Why don't you have the incredibly obscure form that I think I need?
I don't know. But I'll print it out for you.

I'm still very upset about having to do my taxes at all. May I berate and abuse you since I am powerless to express my rage directly to the Internal Revenue Service?
By all means.

I almost forgot...could I also hector you?
Feel free.

Malign you?
Indeed.

Call into question your intelligence and integrity?
It would be my pleasure.

Why can't I get a reaction from you?
Because I'm not really listening.