Hello? Anyone home?

The simplest of phone conversations can make my day. Here's one from last week that a co-worker of mine had with a woman:
(For the sake of security--and keeping my job--the name of the person and the library will be change.)

John: "Pleasantville Library. This is John. How can I help you?"
Woman: "I just wanted to make sure I have the right number for the Pleasantville Library. Is it 444-1234?"
John: "Yes, ma'am. That's correct."
*Click*

And that was it.

Blacklisted: What the Government is Really Doing

One of my favorite and most unnerving patrons is a woman who, as soon as she walks in, comes directly to the circulation desk and demands "What's the gossip about me today? What's everybody saying?" We have tried numerous times to convince her that we haven't heard a word about her, but she refuses to believe that. The ironic thing: no one starting gossiping about her until she insisted every time she came in that people were.



Interestingly, she looks fairly normal--still a bit stuck in the 80's with big frizzy hair, a class bufount, and blatently fake eyelashes, but who in the south isn't? The oddities are quickly realized when talking with her for more than 30 seconds and then we're left wondering who let this woman escape from the psych ward.


Her imagination never ceases to amaze me. She honestly believes we are all part of some type of conspiracy against her. Her attack methods are pretty clever. She waits until one of our staff is alone re-shelving items, and then creeps up from behind and asks them to tell her "what the h*** is going on? I know you're part of the conspiracy!"



She called me over one day to her computer by raising her hand in the air. Pretending like I didn't notice wasn't really an option, so I walked over, hoping to stay in her good graces. I didn't want to know what happened to those unfortunate victims who get on her "bad list."



Every sentence that came out of her mouth started with: "You're going to think I'm crazy, but..." Like "You're going to think I'm crazy, but when I'm typing something on this line, all of a sudden words start showing up on this other line down here." All I could think to say was "Hmm..." And "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I'm being blacklisted and red-lighted...Do you know what those words mean?" And "You're going to think I'm crazy, but see how my computer keeps freezing up? Someone in the government is messing with it because I'm being blacklisted. They're watching me."

I managed to escape after a few minutes, keeping a close watch on her. So far she has taken her fists or legal action against any of our conspiratorial staff, but I wouldn't put it past her.

The Classifieds Bully

A lot of people that come through the library are job hunting. Most people use modern-day techniques like monster.com and online applications, but the patron who I like to call "The Classifieds Bully," takes the old-fashioned route--the newspaper. That's actually how I found my job, so I'm definitely not anti-classifieds. I am, however, anti-bullies.

This patron is obviously not having much luck finding a job, though, because she has come in almost daily for several months and has a permanent line in between her eyebrows and a definite line of disgust across her face. I can confidently say I have never seen the woman smile. Not even a slight smirk.

If you're like me, you are starting to feel sorry for her and hope that her life starts to improve. This feeling of sympathy started to diminish a bit after I tried to assist her one day early one in her job-hunting process.

In our library, the classifieds and job section of the newspaper are kept behind the circulation desk because we have had problems with those sections disappearing. So, we ask to hold patrons' driver's license while they look at these sections. We WILL send the library police out to get you.

She came up one afternoon with her license in hand and asked for Sundays classifieds. I dug through the stack and handed her the classifieds from Sunday--that's what she asked for, right? Not right...

Her: "These aren't right."

Me: "I'm sorry. You said you wanted Sundays classifieds, correct? See, this says 'Sunday' here." I pointed to the date in an attempt to convince her these are what she's looking for.

Her: "These are not the classifieds!"

Me: *confused expression* Does she not see the big letters that say "Classifieds"? How can I make this more clear? "Umm...yes ma'am, that's the classifieds section." I ran my finger across the words at the top.

Her: *frantically flipping through the pages* "No it's not! There are no classifieds in here!!"

Me: *even more confused expression* Am I missing something? Has this woman officially gone off her rocker? Is my eyesight really that bad?

There are, before us, thousands of classified ads for a sundry of things from puppies to slightly used dentures. I was really beginning to think I was losing it.

She finally spit out in a rampage of frustration, "THERE ARE NO JOBS IN HERE!!"

Everything suddenly became clear. This was not the jobs section. Of course there were no jobs in there. I grab the classifieds, took them back to their home and handed her the correct section.

She proceeded to rip them out of my hand, give me the most dramatic eye roll that one could give without permanently turning their eyeballs backwards, and stomped off to a nearby table.

Obviously, the whole thing was my fault. Why should she think anything else? Big bully.

The Ever-Changing PIN

Today, a patron walked up to get on a computer. Simple enough. There are two things you need for that: a library card and a PIN number. Here's how the conversation went...

Me: "Do you have a library card?"
Her: "Yes." And she pulls it out.
Me: "Do you have a PIN number?"
Her: "Yeah."

So, I scan her card and ask her to tell me her PIN so I can make the computer reservation.

Her: "Oh, I don't know what it is...it's probably the same thing we always use."
Me: "Ok. Well, would you like me to try that and see if it works, or reset it?"
Her: "Reset it. It's completely random."

Umm...I believe she just said it was probably what they always use, but apparently it's completely random. Ok, that's fine.

Me: "Ok, well I can reset it then. What would you like it to be?"
Her: "Whatever you give me."
Me: "Umm, well, the way it works is you choose a PIN and use the same one every time you get on a computer."
Her: "I don't know...ABC123...I won't remember it."
Me: "Is there something you can choose that you will remember?"
Her: "No. I forget every time. I'll have to reset it next time too."

At this point I'm wondering what the point of a PIN number is, then. Certainly she has one for her debit card? Do they let her reset it every time she makes a purchase?

Instead of arguing the politics of the whole thing, I just proceeded with the PIN she gave me and let her go.

Just another example of the strange patrons we encounter every day. Welcome to the world of the library.

How Many Feet You Meet

I have decided over the past year and a half that I have been employed as a librarian that a library is the Grand Central Station for the mentally and emotionally challenged. I do not have a Ph.D. in medicine, or even a bachelors in anything science related (in fact, like most librarians, I was an English major), but I have unofficially diagnosed two patrons with paranoid schizophrenia, decided at least one patron is a paranoid conspiracy theorist, and dealt with several others who I am convinced need to go see a surgeon to have whatever is stuck in their rear ends pulled out.

Why do so many off-color people come to the libary you might ask? The simple answer: because everything is free...barring overdue fines.

I have decided to record the daily melodramas and meltdowns that our librarians deal with to perhaps help you feel better about your job...and to make a valiant effort to keep my sanity in tact.

Thanks for listening.