I realize I give vague descriptions of patrons in my storytelling, but this is partly to protect the privacy of patrons and partly because most details are irrelevant to the plot. And yes, I am aware that, in general, my descriptions consist solely of relative age ranges.
Well, I hate to break it to you, but this story begins with that exact hook. An older gentleman who came in to the library fairly consistently for a brief time (note the nonspecific explanation of time) one day decided to tell me that I looked really nice that particular day. I thanked him and went back to work. Later on, when I passed by where he sat, he called out, "Wow! You still take my breath away!" And finally, he approached the front desk where I was stationed and blurted, "I just gotta tell you something: if you have a boyfriend or a husband, he's a lucky man." That made my day. Compliments restore my faith in humanity.
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Storytime!! Let me set the stage for ya: I wore a red maxi dress to work (for those of you who are fashion illiterate, a maxi dress is floor length and a relatively straight cut). Due to the length of the dress and its narrow skirt, I was forced to take slightly smaller steps than usual. I didn't think anything of it - that is just the price I was willing to pay to don such a gorgeous gown. The next day, a regular patron of the library, who was an older man (the sweet kind, not the creepy kind) says to me, "I meant to ask you yesterday - did that dress you were wearing cause you to take smaller steps than normal?" As you can imagine, I became self-conscious of my stride, thinking, "Is my walk so distinct that if I wear something that barely alters my walk, it is noticeable?"
Man I've never seen before: "Are you ready?"
Me: Man I've never seen before: "Why didn't the toilet paper cross the road?... Because it got stuck in the crack! Have a good day!" Immediately upon taking my place at the front desk at the beginning of my shift, a lady enters the library shushing herself and whispering to herself, "We're in a library." And she laughs. While I am trying to process this, I notice a coworker bent down at my feet fixing my crooked pantleg. But this coworker's desk is stationed well behind the circulation area, so I am stunned she noticed from that distance my pantleg, and I'm further stunned that she walked all the way out here to fix it for me, instead of just telling me. Or leaving it be because it wasn't that noticeable. Am I overreacting.... or was this a truly strange ten seconds to start off my work day?
A young girl approaches me and says her mom likes erotic romances and asks me to help her find some. I give her a list of authors of that genre, but the girl repeatedly asks what erotic romance is. Finally, I say, "It is like a romance but... more so."
I truly do enjoy exchanging literary preferences and mutually recommending movie titles with patrons - it not only broadens my horizons and allows me to open myself up to genres I normally am not drawn to, but it also gives me an outlet to share some of the knowledge I have gained whilst working in an information hub, if you will. I could really over-emotionalize my job and say that it is an experience by which both the people I serve and I part ways slightly more enlightened. The reason I am telling you this is to set the tone for a half-pint story I would like to share.
May you come away feeling more enlightened. Even if only in terms of completely irrelevant information. Back when I was a clerk at another library, a patron - a woman of middle age - and I would talk about movies, both mentionable and unworthy of mention. Being a sociable person, I appreciate this kind of bond with people who could otherwise simply view me as a person paid by the government to help them find books and make copies and listen to their marital issues. It makes me feel seen. Also, now is probably as good a time as any to mention that I was newly-wed when this story takes place and incessantly wore a shirt that said "Wifey" followed by the date of my wedding. Trust me, this is random to you now, but it will makes sense later. The humorous part of this story is simple, nothing over the top, and it might not even be funny to you since you do not know what I look like or how self-conscious I can be. Also random now, vital later. The phone rings. It is middle age lady. We begin chatting about films, and at one point she interjects "You're the really tiny one, right? Like the really tiny one? Who just got married?" Perhaps you would argue that I should not be offended by the implications of what middle age lady said because her description of me proved she had, in fact, seen me. Ima cut straight to the chase here. The library phone rang, so I answered, right? All I heard is someone demand, "Information" to which I replied, "I'm sorry?" Clearly, I missed the first part of the sentence. The answer was a curt "Reference" which was then repeated, and I finally asked, "What's the question?" This patron is playing hard to get! She said, "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say when I have a question for the library?" Yes, you're right, I was just testing you to see if you knew the secret password for librarians to answer phone call queries.
Buckle up, dear reader, it gets worse. This patron wanted to know which states held an election in a particular month and which party won EACH of those elections. Guys, I really tried. And by that I mean I clicked on the first link Google so graciously supplied called ballotpedia.org. But don't worry, I gave her the disclaimer that I was unfamiliar with the site and its credibility. And she really did not have another option because she apparently neither owned a computer nor wanted to come to the library to do the search herself like I suggested. When I told her I could read off the results of each election, she replied, "Won't that take too long?" Oh, sure, now all the sudden my time is valuable to you. "I don't mind." "Well are you sure?" "Yes." I am sure that I am about to block your number. "Okay, if you're sure." So I read her the list, and I no sooner than finished when she blurted, "Okay thank you goodbye." Click. She had hung up. Maybe I should look on the bright side: she did not keep me on the phone any longer than absolutely necessary. He walked in like a cool breeze on a hot summer evening.
Nope, just kidding - I don't remember how he walked in. Our encounter took place at the circulation desk, and that is really all I remember besides his attitude. Man: "After school help?" Moi: "I'm sorry." Man: "Are you the after school help?" Moi: "Oh, no. I work here. I'm in college. I'm 20." In hindsight, I may have been overselling this. Man: "Well you don't look old enough to work here." Moi: "YOU DON'T LOOK OLD ENOUGH TO BE HERE." This last part I just said inside my head. Obviously. It bothers me. I am not fully sure why. Perhaps because I like people to mean what they say and say what they mean.
Especially people I have to spend a great deal of time around. Particularly coworkers. It is just a stupid, meaningless phrase that a certain coworker (who shall remain anonymous) of mine uses. Often. Like, every conversation. It is as if she has to say it a set amount of times per day or she will become mute. Or she does not know how to communicate without her beloved, awful phrase. I’m probably exaggerating. And over-sensitive to the dreaded four-word sentence-filler. Because I am completely burned out on it. I know, I know, Stop beating around the bush and tell us the phrase, you are screaming internally. The only way you will understand it is in context so allow me to provide you an example exchange between said coworker and I, involving said phrase: Coworker: “Did you request that book for that patron through inter-library loan?” Yours truly: “I can’t because their account is in collections. Again. And they are blocked from requesting any more ILLs.” Coworker: “Makes you wonder why people check items out if they can’t bring them back on time.” Yours truly: Don’t say it. Coworker: “I mean, I always return my items on time.” Yours truly: *nods* Oh no…. I can feel it coming…. Coworker: “It is not that hard to return a few books, people.” Yours truly: *inhales deeply yet discreetly in order to mentally prepare for the conversation-killer* Coworker: “I’m sitting here going, ‘If you can come in to request ILLs, you can bring your returns with you.’” Yours truly: Ugh, why why why why why what am I supposed to say to that awkward thing you just slapped onto your sentence I can clearly see you are standing and not sitting so how can you be sitting and going anything because you’re not sitting of course you only say that phrase while you’re standing which is ironic because you only stand a few times a day so my question to you is why can’t you say that when you are sitting so at least it is true and I have another question for you actually why even use that phrase at all I’m sorry I just kinda hate it. Yours truly: “Yea.” See, you probably weren’t even sure what the dreaded phrase was and were likely suspicious about the underlined phrase, assuming they were one and the same. In that case, you were correct and understandably let down because you were expecting a phrase much more irritating. But have some mercy on me - you don’t know what it feels like to hear that phrase one thousand billion trillion gazillion times, which causes my brain to explode. Figuratively, of course. Notice how I used a cliche phrase there? And more importantly, did you notice how I didn’t overuse it? Imagine this entire blog post rewritten but with the words “My brain exploded,” strewn heavily throughout. Your eyes would get so sick of reading those three words they would want to vomit. But I didn’t do that. Because I’m such a caring person with a vocabulary that extends beyond the need to repeat crappy expressions over and over and over. You’re welcome. And I rest my case. I do not think an intro is necessary here... Let's just skip right to the convo that went down with an older gentleman and I:
Him: *gestures toward entirety of library stacks* "How much?" Me: *Picking the first row of items to assume is the topic of his inquiry* "You can rent five movies." Him: "How much?" He looked and grumbled like a farmer. Does that make sense? I feel like that' s a thing. Me: "You can rent them for one week and renew them if needed." Him: *Pauses dramatically* "How much?" Me: "Are you asking how much they cost?" Him: Nods once and slowly. Why can't I tell if his eyes are open? Me: "They are free... Everything... in a library is... free." Him: "Oh really?" I'm sorry but how does anyone go their entire life - better yet, how does anyone get through school, without knowing that everything in a library is free and, what's more, how does anyone get through school without using a library?! Is it just me? Is this shocking? |
AuthorThe author, Ivadell Grayson, resides in a relatively small town and is employed at the library of said town. She is happily married and lives in a quaint house with her darling husband, cat, and dog. |