The 9/11 Memorial Voter Registration Drive Entry

In the Morning:

At the Voter Registration Table:

My lord this bunting is tacky.
I register a voter.
A patron wonders why we have nine copies of a Harry Potter book.
A child falls and starts to cry. "You're fine," orders the mother.
Who moved my "Voter Registration Center" sign? It doesn't look any better taped over the bunting like that.
I register a voter.
I glance through Tintin: the Complete Companion, by Michael Farr. Is this a patriotic thing to do?
League of Women Voters Volunteer #1 arrives to help.

At the Reference Desk:

You don't need to ask to use the computers, ma'am.
Printer advice.
Local history volume, and our hours.
She asks specifically for the May 2003 Consumer reports, then hands it back. "It's not what I wanted."
Stapler. "Ahh! The Voter Man!"
How to start a business.
Can I help you? (click)
Printer advice, where to get change, all that.
A psychologist I can't pronounce.

At the Voter Registration Table:

LLVV #2 arrives.

At the Reference Desk:

A child removes some shelf railings and talks about his shoes.
A nearby school district's boundaries in the 1940's.
Pictures of red squares, blue circles, yellow triangles, etc., on the internet.
It looks busy at the voter table.
It's also Mexican Independence Day. I can hear the parade outside.
A circ clerk on the phone: "The books were late ... Where did you return the books? ...Where? ... You don't remember where you returned the books? ... You mailed them? ... Well, they arrived late. There's a fine ... Hello? Hello?"
It's quiet. I pop back to ...

At the Voter Registration Table:

You need something with your current address, sir.

In the Afternoon:

At the Reference Desk:

You don't need to ask us to use the internet, ma'am.
That's not a medical dictionary, ma'am; that's a plain old dictionary.

At the Voter Registration Table:

One of the IDs has to have your current address, sir.
Bathroom? Over there, ma'am.

At the Reference Desk:

Don't let's go to the dogs tonight, by Alexandra Fuller.
Medusa.
First cut, by Peter Robinson.
Sorry, sir, we don't have our job application forms online.
Local supermarket phone.
The coldest winter ever, by Sister Souljah. I am surprised to find one on the shelf.
Printer advice.
His library card barcode is "invalid," he says, but it works when I type it in.
He wants journal articles on "adult development and aging," and he's not familiar with online databases, and could I show him how, and Librarian R has vanished.
"Excuse me, sir. Good afternoon." I smile. He pauses. He waits for me to say "good afternoon" back.
Sorry sir, all our Spanish-language computer workshops are booked up.
Roosevelt and Churchill, ed Francis L. Loewenheim, Harold D. Langley, and Manfred Jonas; The juggler, by Warren F. Kimball; The first summit, by Theodore A. Wilson; and, er, one other.

At the Voter Registration Table:

One of the LWVV ladies asks if she can leave at 4:30. Since we've had ten registrations in six hours, I tell her we can handle the crush.

At the Reference Desk:

"You can't play solitare on these machines?"
No more than 2 people to a machine, dammit.
Don't play around, kids.
Sorry sir, you need a card to use the internet.
That's funny, your card should work ...
Books on school violence.
Just type your barcode in, ma'am.
"What time you close up tonight? ... FIVE?"
No sir, Librarian Q is not here today. Not tomorrow, either. It's the weekend.
"Have you seen my little girl? First she was here, and then ..."
Printer advice.
A medical dictionary she can check out.
Oh god, they want to do a seniors scavenger hunt here. I keep my head down and let Librarian R deal with it.

At the Voter Registration Table:

I register a patron.
I register a second patron. His five year-old daughter chats me up. Her older brothers disapprove.

Total Voter Registrations: 12