National Freak & Misfit Day
It is obviously National Freak & Misfit Day judging from the patrons that have been taking up residence in the Reference area today. That much is sure. In a way, it sort of reminds me of the so-called cantina scene from Star Wars. Remember that?
I'm generally one cool dude in terms of remaining level-headed. I'm friendly, too. But I must admit that during my one and a half year stint as a librarian, I have not always been saintly. I have had three indiscretions. It has been eight weeks since my last blog confession. Father forgive me, for I have sinned.
The first of these instances took place at (no surprise here) a copy machine. A lunatic woman (who has a track record of sorts at this libary) marched in and began yelling for help with the copy machine. (Yes, we all know how hard making copies is.) When the conversation degraded to her shrieking, "You work here and don't know how to use this?" I told her to go get help elsewhere. At the top of my lungs, that is.
The second time I lost my cool was with (you guessed it) an Internet terminal user. This particular person is a regular and has a rather long pet moniker. He was kicked out of a nearby town's library for good and this seems to be his favorite topic of conversation -- in fact, it's all he talks about. So we call him "Library X Called the Sheriff On Me." Anyway, back in the days of sign-up sheets, Library X Called the Sheriff On Me asked me for a terminal. When I stepped away from the desk to locate an empty terminal for him, Library X Called the Sheriff On Me decided to go ape-shit and claim that I was ignoring him. This is when flames broke forth from my vocal chords, along with a small army of scorpions, a gust of tacks, and a gaggle of menacing monkeys gnashing their teeth together. He's been nice to me ever since.
The third time I played the part of a trouble-making Mt Vesuvius happens to be today. An old, gnarled woman with a walker came trucking into the library and went straight for the reference desk. She proceeded to hound my colleague with a barrage of totally useless questions -- most of them regarding nonexistent authors, concepts, or historical instances. Once my colleague left for lunch it was unfortunately my turn to deal with this insipid woman. When I could not locate the [fake] author she was looking for, she began yelling, saying that she did not have time for me to try and locate the information she was seeking. It then became my pleasure to inform her that if she was in such a big hurry, I simply couldn't help her; whereby I moved on to the next patron. She then lurched in front of me and began yacking in the midst of a reference interview with another patron.
Well, you can probably guess what happened then. Hitchcock always left all the gory details to the imagination, so I think will too. :-E
It is obviously National Freak & Misfit Day judging from the patrons that have been taking up residence in the Reference area today. That much is sure. In a way, it sort of reminds me of the so-called cantina scene from Star Wars. Remember that?
I'm generally one cool dude in terms of remaining level-headed. I'm friendly, too. But I must admit that during my one and a half year stint as a librarian, I have not always been saintly. I have had three indiscretions. It has been eight weeks since my last blog confession. Father forgive me, for I have sinned.
The first of these instances took place at (no surprise here) a copy machine. A lunatic woman (who has a track record of sorts at this libary) marched in and began yelling for help with the copy machine. (Yes, we all know how hard making copies is.) When the conversation degraded to her shrieking, "You work here and don't know how to use this?" I told her to go get help elsewhere. At the top of my lungs, that is.
The second time I lost my cool was with (you guessed it) an Internet terminal user. This particular person is a regular and has a rather long pet moniker. He was kicked out of a nearby town's library for good and this seems to be his favorite topic of conversation -- in fact, it's all he talks about. So we call him "Library X Called the Sheriff On Me." Anyway, back in the days of sign-up sheets, Library X Called the Sheriff On Me asked me for a terminal. When I stepped away from the desk to locate an empty terminal for him, Library X Called the Sheriff On Me decided to go ape-shit and claim that I was ignoring him. This is when flames broke forth from my vocal chords, along with a small army of scorpions, a gust of tacks, and a gaggle of menacing monkeys gnashing their teeth together. He's been nice to me ever since.
The third time I played the part of a trouble-making Mt Vesuvius happens to be today. An old, gnarled woman with a walker came trucking into the library and went straight for the reference desk. She proceeded to hound my colleague with a barrage of totally useless questions -- most of them regarding nonexistent authors, concepts, or historical instances. Once my colleague left for lunch it was unfortunately my turn to deal with this insipid woman. When I could not locate the [fake] author she was looking for, she began yelling, saying that she did not have time for me to try and locate the information she was seeking. It then became my pleasure to inform her that if she was in such a big hurry, I simply couldn't help her; whereby I moved on to the next patron. She then lurched in front of me and began yacking in the midst of a reference interview with another patron.
Well, you can probably guess what happened then. Hitchcock always left all the gory details to the imagination, so I think will too. :-E
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