My Importance

I thought I worked the evening, so came in at noon, but I had misread the schedule. In other words, I wasn't at work this morning when I should have been.

No one noticed.

Busy Afternoon

Friday afternoon was tough. Not only were we working with the local community college's new influx of naive students, new to serious research and often new to computers, but the schools had a half-day so loud kids were filling the place up early. And it was raining, so people who might have wanted to leave chose not to. We were running all over the place.

At 3:15, a surprise: the Head Techie came out and told us that we have a major network issue, so we'd be shutting down the public computers in fifteen minutes. No news on whether we'd be back up soon. We went to each table and told everyone, apologizing, "Save your work," etc., and the computers went down at 3:30.

The library emptied out. What had been an annoying, humid stressful afternoon turned quiet and peaceful. Big noise to near silence, except from the cries of disappointment when newcomers came in and found us down. I tracked down the occasional book. Dark fantasy stuff. Gang stuff. That was about all.

It was a relief, especially since I was on my seventh straight day of work! But I feel kind of bad for being happy. Yes, it could not be avoided and we still helped people, but we might have screwed over someone's work big time, though no patron had a crisis I know of.

Hell with it. I was relieved. Sorry if some patrons weren't.

In the Afternoon

Salesmanship books.
Crying baby.
"From rage to reason," by Janet Langhart Cohen. (Over the phone. "I ... just ... can't ... find ... my ... card ... anywhere ...")
Computers are over there, sir.
She calls back with her barcode, but I've already found it.
"Yes, or no," by Spencer Johnson.
Some year's best horror anthology series.
I can't notarize that, sir.
Coworker: "My husband started making fun of me because I hit like a girl. So I kicked him in the nuts."
She has a lot of bees in her backyard, and she wants to "contain" them.
His computer froze.
"We are not forgotten," by Joel Martin.

In the Evening

Kama Sutra.
How we do faxes.
Community service.
Dog breeds.
I replace printer toner.
She gets upset because I won't let her jump in the Internet queue.
Bathroom's over there, sir.
And another one gets upset because her reservation expired.
A third one wants a specific machine.
A fourth one begs for more time so she can finish filling out a form, but her machine crashes anyway.
Copier's over there, ma'am.
A child screaming in the stone stairwell resonates and sounds like a bad horror movie.
The first Chronicles of Narnia movie.
The Bluford High series.
Bachata.
Printer jam.
Get off that machine, kid.
"Exit here," by Jason Myers.
Sure you can use the computer, kid. Just get a library card.
Chicken soup for some kind of soul or another.
Click, don't double-click, kid.
I clear up a half-dozen computer problems.
Our computer class schedule doesn't fit his, and it's our fault.
And a half-dozen more.
"I STILL can't log in."
Purple Loosestrife, killer bees, European black currents and some species of moth that hung out with Mennonites.
Sorry, I don't know how to download music to your MP3 player.
That's a library catalog, kid, not a place to visit Myspace.
Magnifying glass.
"Chocolate chip cookie murder," by Joanne Fluke.
The kid is BACK on the catalog trying to get to Myspace.
I let a guy use my machine to get his school notes off email.

In the Evening:

She's never used a computer before. She doesn't know how to use a mouse, type, or "spell," as she puts it. So I go and print her credit report for her. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
He's astonished I've heard of Ben Hecht.
Where is area code 817?
Videos on the Justice Department.
WOW Gospel 2006.
Pen.
1991 Honda Civic repair manual.
Does she need to be here for tonight's book club drawing?
Sitting by the circ dept I hear way too much about a woman's pregnancy.
How to get a library card.
A toddler starts wailing. I smile and say "Shh, quiet." He shuts up! I love this kid!
Now it's a wailing infant.
Sorry, lady, we haven't seen your keys.
It's apparently "Screaming Child Night" here at the library. I can't say I like this promotion.
All the Zane books are missing again.
ILL pickup.
The big group of girls with screaming babies have finally left. Ah, the silence!
Sorry, lady, we haven't see your phone.
A guy is looking at porn, but we just can't quite catch him.
"The coldest winter ever," by Sister Souljah.
Don't run!

On a Lovely Friday Afternoon:


Request for Jordan Sparks and Phil Stacey CDs, from a coworker.
What on earth was the title for the second Star wars film?
Pencil.
"Once a king, always a king," by Reymundo Sanchez.
She's entering high school. Can't she get an adult card? Sure, and so can her mother.
Oops, I'm not supposed to be here right now ...

(One hour later)

Notarization.
"Authors like Zane."
We don't own a copy of Perelandra. I'm a little embarrassed. We have the other two ...
Six Sigma, then statistics.
Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk.
I explain that we're closing in fifteen minutes and that's why he can't log in, three times. Each time he just stares at me, mouth open.
Nope, you can't use my phone, kid.

Mocked

I was reminded of this at a meeting today. A couple months ago I decided to give Stephanie Meyer's Twilight a try, since so many people were reading it. I was on desk glancing at the first chapter when I hear:

"BWA-HA-HA-HA! You're reading 'Twilight!' That's a sissy book. You must be a big girlie!"

I looked up and saw a girl with glasses, probably in middle school, whom I had never seen before. She was pointing at the book.

"I thought I'd give it a try," I said.

"Ha-ha-ha! You're a girlie!"

I wound up getting about a third of the way through it before deciding it I wasn't its target audience. A week after that the girl spots me again.

"You're the one reading that sissy book."

"For your information, I gave up. It was too girly."

"What's that you're holding?"

"Er ..." It was volume 6 of Love*Com.

"BWA-HA-HA-HA! You always read sissy girlie stuff!"

And so on ... I wish I knew who this this girl is.

What's embarrassing is that I actually *like* "Love*Com."