Librarians are nuts. When I tell people this, I get polite, disbelieving smiles. Everyone knows librarians wear sensible shoes, hair pulled back into severe buns, reading glasses hung on a chain, and a permanent scowl. The truth is, we're generally nice people who try to be polite and helpful. There's a reason we're nuts. It's our patrons, the people we serve.
There's something about being a librarian that tends to make people confide in us, like bartenders or hairdressers. In the past I've heard about the elderly lady whose husband chased her around the kitchen table. Appendix Guy told us all about his botched appendectomy, asked if I wanted to see his scar, and lifted his shirt before I could say no. Oh, ugh. Kitchen Guy designed a kitchen for me. Am I wrong, or are 42" cabinets a little large for a 5'3 1/2" woman? And people fall in love with us. We've all had our beaux. Last week I asked a man how he was, and he smiled and said, "Better now." Another man, who's never been particularly attentive or even nice, came in and said in a booming voice, "How's my girl?" No, I didn't hear that, I told myself. Please.
And, volunteers. Don't get me started on them. My favorite is the girl who was putting stickers on our DVD's. I told her to put them back on the shelf in ABC order. (God forbid you use the word "alphabetical" anymore. No one knows what it means. Some of them don't even know the alphabet). When she was done she proudly told me she'd put them on the shelf properly, and left. I went to check. Yes, she'd put them back in ABC order. Unfortunately they were all spine-in, so no one could read the titles. Ah, volunteers.
In the future I'll be writing more about the library life, for your reading pleasure. For now I'll leave you with a song, to the tune of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood":
It's a beautiful day in the library
A wonderful day in the library
Will you be mine
Won't you be mine
Won't you be my patron?
There's something about being a librarian that tends to make people confide in us, like bartenders or hairdressers. In the past I've heard about the elderly lady whose husband chased her around the kitchen table. Appendix Guy told us all about his botched appendectomy, asked if I wanted to see his scar, and lifted his shirt before I could say no. Oh, ugh. Kitchen Guy designed a kitchen for me. Am I wrong, or are 42" cabinets a little large for a 5'3 1/2" woman? And people fall in love with us. We've all had our beaux. Last week I asked a man how he was, and he smiled and said, "Better now." Another man, who's never been particularly attentive or even nice, came in and said in a booming voice, "How's my girl?" No, I didn't hear that, I told myself. Please.
And, volunteers. Don't get me started on them. My favorite is the girl who was putting stickers on our DVD's. I told her to put them back on the shelf in ABC order. (God forbid you use the word "alphabetical" anymore. No one knows what it means. Some of them don't even know the alphabet). When she was done she proudly told me she'd put them on the shelf properly, and left. I went to check. Yes, she'd put them back in ABC order. Unfortunately they were all spine-in, so no one could read the titles. Ah, volunteers.
In the future I'll be writing more about the library life, for your reading pleasure. For now I'll leave you with a song, to the tune of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood":
It's a beautiful day in the library
A wonderful day in the library
Will you be mine
Won't you be mine
Won't you be my patron?
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