The Regulars: Wig Lady and Albert

It may not come as much of a surprise but the library attracts a lot of seniors. My library also happens to be located only a few blocks from several seniors homes. Most of them are quiet, polite and don’t make much of a mess. Generally speaking, they’re the best behaved so the least noticeable.

Hey, if you want to stand out at the library, you need to be a special brand of weird. Wig Lady and Albert are a good example of this.

Don’t ask me how we know they’re brother and sister. I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if it’s true but it’s something that everyone at the library just “knows”. Same goes for how we know his name is Albert. I haven’t got a clue. That’s just what we all call him and it fits.

Wig Lady, I’m sure you’ve guessed (being the clever people you all are), is known for her wig. It’s bad. It’s the kind of bad only a bad wig can be. It could only be made worse if it had a chin strap. It’s dark brown, curly and about three sizes to big for her head. She is a tiny, frail looking woman to begin with and the addition of this giant monstrosity and glasses that cover a good 75% of her face… well, it’s not a good look.

She also has a tendency to fall asleep upstairs around the magazines. This is something that’s a little nerve racking for some of our staff. Her advanced age, general frailness and stillness when sleeping is a little worrying some days.

One afternoon, one of our more uptight staff members came rushing in to the back. When she’s wound up about something she whispers and talks faster than I’ve ever heard anyone talk in my life and when she came in to the back room she was going at full speed.

“You know the lady who wears the wig?”

Yes, I do. Wig Lady.

“I think she’s dead.”

I wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.

“I was upstairs getting a magazine and I think she’s dead!” I laughed. “It’s not funny! I think she’s dead! I was standing there for like five minutes watching her and she didn’t move! I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I go poke her with something?”

Like a stick? After laughing some more and having her tell me repeatedly that it wasn’t funny, I promised to go and check.

Before I could, Wig Lady walked past the counter. Alive and well. I was also informed that it still wasn’t funny.

But let’s not forget Albert, who is in now way any less special. He looks like he’s closing in on 100 and hating every second of it. I have never, ever seen him without a scowl and I’ve never, ever heard him speak. He just glares and scowls.

He normally takes a pile of magazines and sets them on his table where he ignores them. Despite that I’ve never seen him even glance at the magazines, he will not let you take them and re-shelve them. It’s been suggested more than once that he just likes to make sure we have extra to put away at the end of the day.

Aside from being a grump and hoarding magazines for no apparent reason, for years we never really had any legitimate complaints about the guy. Until one day when one of my co-workers went up to do pick-up early and caught him at the news papers.

The papers come every day (obviously) and the current papers are hung in alphabetical order and the back issues are kept in hanging folders. When we do pick up we have to go through them all and make sure they’re in order. The papers are in constant use and so are one of the messiest and most time consuming sections.

When my co-worker came around the corner, there was Albert. He was taking all of the meticulously organized newspapers and pulling them out one at a time and stuffing them back again in random places.

“Excuse me!” My friend snapped.

Albert looked flatly at her and walked away like nothing happened.

We also discovered that this had been his daily ritual for ages.

It’s always the quiet ones.

-Late Fines.

Helpful: The opposite of what you’re being

There is a lot of information that is incredibly helpful in my job. Unfortunately, it seems like that is the information I am lease likely to receive. So here is a handy list of things that aren’t going to help me at all.

“I’m looking for a book.” Followed immediately with “called ***” or “with this call number” this is exactly right. On its own, followed by a blank stare this is the least helpful thing you could say.

“My teacher said there was some reserve stuff here.”* Not only is this a poorly constructed sentence, it also fails to provide me with any useful information.

“It’s on reserve.”* I’m sure it is. That doesn’t help me unless you have a call number.

“It’s right over there.” * This (usually combined with pointing) is NOT an adequate substitute for a call number. Yes, I am aware of where the books are kept. Pointing in there general direction doesn’t help me in finding a specific book. It’s kind of like standing outside and saying “my house it over there”.

“I don’t know who wrote the book/the title of the book/my instructors name/my class number.” Funny, neither do I. Of the two of us, I’d say that it’s a bigger problem for you. Guess you might want to figure it out then, eh?

“I had this book out once before but I can’t remember the title/author but I remember that it was yellow/blue/red/any other colour.” That would be helpful if we sorted our material by colour. Which we don’t. Or if we kept records of every item you’ve ever taken out (and had them listed by colour). Which we don’t. Are you seeing the problem?

“I have it written down but I forgot it at home/lost it/threw it away.” So what you’re telling me is, you know where to find the information, have found it previously and somewhere along the way you became incapable of performing this miracle again? That really is a shame. An unhelpful shame, but a shame none the less.

This is not a complete list, mind you. But if you could at very least try to avoid these, I would be forever grateful. I will also try to advise you as more come up.

-Late Fines.

 

 

*These three normally come from one person, in that order.

The seat on the chair goes up and down, up and down, up and down…

This morning one of my co-workers was telling me about another woman who works here. Apparently she was sitting kind of funny and so she asked her about it.

She was sitting on two phone books because her chair was too low.

Her chair was too low because she didn’t know that you have to get off the chair for the “up/down” lever to make the chair go up.

Some days it’s not just the students…

-Late Fines.

You don’t want me to answer that

“There are no stupid questions.”

Not true. I believe that saying should be “there is no end to stupid questions”. Believe me, I know. I work in a library.

When you work in a library and the #1 most asked question is “where are all the books?” you know that there are stupid questions. Lots of them. From lots of stupid people. (One professor actually asked how to get out of the library. You use the same doors as you used to come it, the ones ten feet from where he was asking.)

There are two terminals at the front desk. For parts of the day it’s not odd for there to be only one person on the desk, leaving one terminal open. Have I confused you yet? No? That’s because you’re not a university student, apparently.

One girl came up to the counter this afternoon and stood there looking a little lost. It happens a lot. She looked at me and then at the empty terminal.

“Which one should I go to?”

Sigh. The other one, sweetheart. I’m just decorative. Luckily the midget hiding under the desk over there is really good at dealing with the terminally stupid. Now will you be so good as to excuse me? I suddenly have a splitting headache.

-Late Fines.

Yes, I mean THOSE books

We have security gates at the library, like most libraries these days. Mostly because people like to steal things and we like to have our things not stolen. There is a bit of a flaw in this system however – the sensors that are supposed to be set off when someone is stealing our books are also set off by lots of other things. Mostly, and least surprising of all, by books from other place. So when someone is coming in to or going out of the library and they set the gate off we try to stop them and ask if they have any books.

Apparently “book” is too ambiguous a word because 9 times out of 10, unless they’ve just left the borrowing desk, they will say no.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

They usually pause and look confused, something akin to a dog hearing a new sound.

“Excuse me, do you have any books, binders or new material in your bag?”

“No.”

“You haven’t got any books at all.”

“No.”

“Because sometimes new books or books from other libraries will set off the sensors.”

“I don’t have anything.” They usually end up swinging their bag through the sensor again to test it and this usually sets it off again. Then they all do the same indignant march over to the counter and pull open their bag to prove that they’re not a thief.

At this point what I normally get a look at is not a bag devoid of books of any type, however much I may wish that were the case. No. I usually get a pretty good look at a bag full of books. You know, the same books I just asked about. They same books they denied having or having any knowledge of.

“Well, I have these.” They point. “But they wouldn’t have set the sensor off. I just bought these/borrowed these from the public library.”

*sigh* To be fair, I did mention the fact that new books and books from other libraries set the sensor off over ten seconds ago. These things will slip ones mind.

“I’ll just make sure they don’t set the sensor off again.”

“But they’re new books/library books! Why would they set the sensors off!?”

Because they do. Okay? That’s why.

And sure enough, they check the gate again and not a sound. That would be why I asked if you had any books. ANY books. Not just OUR books.

Next time I’ll try to be more clear.

Lazy and stupid, a bad combination

I know I haven’t posted much lately and the truth is, over the summer the library is dead. There aren’t many new stories and most people who use the library over the summer at least have some idea of how to use the library. But now that the students are back I’m quickly collecting more. Honestly, I think they’re getting stupider every year.

Today was kind of a trying day in general. We were short staffed to the point of ridiculous. I was the only one on the desk for most of the day and it was busy, really, really, busy. Like most busy days the phone kept on ringing just to add to the insanity.

“Good morning, borrowing desk.”

“Hi, uhhh…” When they start with uh it’s not going to go well. “I heard from someone that if I call you guys can get books at the desk.”

Confused? Me too. “I’m sorry?”

“Like if I tell you I need a book you can bring it to the counter so I can pick it up.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.” Actually, that’s a lie. He clearly wanted me to go out on the floor with a list of books, collect them and bring them to the counter so his lazy ass didn’t have to walk around and find them himself.

“You know, bring them to the counter”

“You mean books that are already out? I can bring them in on recall.”

“Uhhh…. Nevermind.” Click.

Now do I really need to explain to people why I didn’t and never will indulge this kind of nonsense? Like I have nothing better with my time than run around picking things up for you. What am I? Your mother? And for that matter, you’re an adult, your mother better damned well not be doing everything for you.

Grow the hell up.

Thanks for the heads up

For some reason I seem to get a lot of people giving me more information than I really need. It’s not just at work, it must be some kind of genetic defect. I attract people who are a little off. This makes working at the library just a little more interesting.

The circulation desk, so you know, is divided in to two halves. One side is for checking things out and the other is for returns. Both have signs indicating which is which but, odd as it may sound, most people who come in to the library don’t like to read things. So I spend a large portion of my day directing people to the right counter.

Some people slip through before I can say anything.

Yesterday a woman and her friend came up to the counter with a return. Before I could say anything about the returns counter she cut me off.

“This book might be a little over due.”

If someone wants to know right away and pay their fines, it’s just as easy to do it at whichever counter they’re at rather than sending them off somewhere else first so I checked it in. It wasn’t “a little over due”. It was a lot over due. In fact, it had gone to lost which only happens when you’ve had the book so long that we assume you’re never coming back.

“If there’s a charge, that’s fine because I’m not paying it.”

I tell her that it was lost. The replacement charge will be removed because she brought the book back but the late charge is $16.

She huffs at me. Never a good sign.

“Well I’m not paying that.”

I’m not exactly sure what she wants me to say.

“I’m going to make an appointment to talk to someone about that and have that charge removed. I’m not paying that fine.” She snaps at me. You know, because it’s my fault. “Who would I need to talk to?”

I give her my supervisor’s name. “I can get her for you now, if you like.”

“No. I’ll make an appointment.”

That isn’t necessary. She’s here, now, no appointment necessary. But I give her my supervisor’s card.

“No one even contacted me to tell me that the book was overdue until yesterday. I’m not paying that fine.”

That. right there, would be a load of nonsense. We send out notices regularly. I know we do. It’s one of my jobs. And even if she didn’t get her notice, we tell you when the book is due back when you take it. I would love to know where people got this idea that if we don’t specifically call you, send you notice after notice and in every other way coddle you along the way to make sure you actually bring your items back on time, that some how it’s our fault you’re incapable of bringing your items back on time. That you’re then exempt from paying fines accumulated past the day we specifically stated the books must be returned by.

How, exactly, do you think that works? Hmm? Grow up.

“Well I’m afraid you’ll need to discuss that with my supervisor.”

She turns around, stalks off and says to her friend “Well I moved a while ago…”

Oh good. You moved, more than likely didn’t inform us you moved, we sent your notices to the old address we have on file and yes, that’s right, it’s our fault.

Some people make my head hurt.

-Late Fines.

Well in that case, still no.

“I’m looking for this book but it says that it’s not here.”

“Let me check.” It’s signed out, so no, it’s not here.

“Oh.”

“I can put a recall on the book and have someone contact you when it comes in.”

“I only need to see it for a second.”

“…”

“Can you just give me the guys phone number so I can call him?”

“…” Seriously? Are you shitting me? How would you feel about me giving him your number if this were reversed? “No.”

“But I just need to see it for a second.”

“The best I can offer is to have the book recalled and call you when the book is returned.”

“How long will that take?”

“The recall shortens the borrowing period to two weeks.”

“Two weeks is the end of the semester.”

“I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do.”

“You can’t just give me his number? I only need to see it for a second.”

“No.”

“When is it due back?”

“Next Monday.”

“I only need to see it for a second.”

“…”

“So that’s it then?”

“It will be back on Monday. If you put a hold on it, we’ll call you when it gets here.”

“I only need to see it for a second.”

“…”

After a minute of standing there staring at me, he finally left. I had to laugh after he left.

The guy I was working with looked at me.

“Did he really think I was going to hand out his phone number?”

“Holy shit! That’s what he wanted?”

Yeah… he only needed the book for a second. *sigh*

-Late Fines.

Shhhh…

Despite the movie stereotype, the library really isn’t all that quiet, the librarians rarely, if ever, shush anyone and honestly with so many people coming and going all day it would be impossible to keep it quiet for very long. The library itself isn’t even that quiet. In the morning, before the doors open, the heating and cooling systems drone on constantly and when they flick the escalators on there’s no hope of it being quiet again until they’re turned off at the end of the day. We all do our best to keep the volume at a reasonable level, but there are limits.

That isn’t good enough for some people.

Paging is one of those jobs that gets boring quickly. At the main library there are always a few pages working at once. They work together as a team. So a good part of the day is spent talking about whatever while they work.

I know. I did it for four years.

Talking keeps us sane and makes the work go by faster. We know that it’s a library. We work there. So we try to chat quietly.

One evening I was working with a friend of mine and we were, as per usual, talking. Honestly, I don’t even remember what we were talking about. We were doing pick up (which means shelving all the used magazines and newspapers, mostly) so chances are good that we were talking about whatever was on the cover of the weekly gossip mags or complaining about the paper junkies who make the same mess every single day. Nothing unusual.

“Excuse me!” Someone hissed at us.

We stopped and looked over at one of our semi-regulars. He’s a middle aged man with thin hair, beady eyes, a paunch and an attitude. No one cares for him much. His demanding tone is a fairly good sign that he’s going to be a problem and he usually is.

“Do you work here?”

He knows we do, he was trying to make a point.

“Because I can’t imagine that you’re allowed to go around talking while you’re supposed to be working!”

Neither of us knew what to say so we just stood there hoping he’d go away.

“I can’t even hear myself think!“

We apologized and told him we’d be more quiet. (I should note that he was wearing headphones the whole time we were up there, so how he heard us at all is beyond me.)

“That’s just not good enough! You were interrupting me!”

What more do you say after someone says sorry isn’t enough?

“I think I’m going to take this up with your manager!”

We told him that if he was unsatisfied with our answers, he was more than welcome. She was downstairs. We even give him her name. There are no rules about us talking while we work and he’s been a problem before – the chances of him being taken seriously were slim.

“Fine! I’ll go talk to her!” Trying to be threatening. It wasn’t working. “You shouldn’t be allowed to talk! Talking at work!? Who ever heard of that!? You’re bothering everyone!”

After ranting on for a few more minutes he finally left. I should mention that he managed to work up a volume that was more likely to bother “everyone” than we ever had. We also checked later, he didn’t speak to anyone on his way out.

He did make another appearance a few weeks later tho. During our library book sale. We were selling off books that had been withdrawn from the collection because of damage, newer edition replacements or simply because no one had touched them in twenty years.

He complained at and lectured the girl working for a solid forty-five minutes about how upset he was that we were selling off books. How dare we? People use these books! We can’t just get rid of them! Because the library should keep every single item it has ever had in it’s collection no matter how badly damaged, out of date or unused it may be.

We explained to him several times in numerous ways that if there were books (which he claimed many times) he needed or used on a daily basis (which was an outright lie as 95% of the books had been long withdrawn and had been in storage for months if not years) he was more than welcome to buy them and keep them forever. They were, after all, only about 10 cents a book.

He was, however, having much too good a time complaining.

Some people make the days go so much slower. You know what I mean?

-Late Fines.

Opinions are like assholes…

And there always seems to be an abundance of assholes around the library. Go figure.

A good number of our patrons have something in common – a lot of free time on their hands. For one reason or another they have enough spare time to hang out every day, all day at the library. Honestly, there are worse places for them to be hanging out. But as with most things in life, the less someone has to worry about, the smaller the things that will set them off. I’ve seen it happen. A lot. 

I’ve watched adults pitch a fit because someone had the newspaper they wanted. I’ve been yelled at over a thirty cent fine (more than once). I’ve watched patrons flip out over (literally) nothing and start throwing things. I don’t get it but it happens and what is best is watching someone freaking out because they have their own ideas about how a library should work.

Once while shelving DVDs one of the girls was cornered by an older man. He pointed to the DVDs and got right in her face. 

“Have you see some of these movies you have!? They’re perverted filth!”

“I’m sorry?” She backed away from him a little.

He pointed again to one of our many GLBT films and shouted some more. My co-worker just kind of nodded a little while she was trying to edge away from him. But he was having none of it. Every time she backed up, he followed. Finally he broke down and just started shouting the same thing over and over again. 

“This is  public library not a pubic library!” 

It was all I could do to not burst out laughing.

Not long after that another co-worker and I were shelving some books when she was approached by a patron.

“Are you a librarian?” He was dressed like a fairly normal patron but the hurricane-reporter-esque hair and the wild eyes were a bit tip off that not every thing was 100% upstairs.

“No I’m not, but I do work here. Is there something I can help you with?”

“You’re a liar!” he snapped at her, stepping too close too fast (I headed over to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid). “I know the law! If you work here then you have to be a librarian!”

My co-worker didn’t quite know what to say to that (neither did I, for that matter).

“Do you think I don’t know! I know! I know the law! Don’t you lie to me!”

“Uh….” We both kind of gaped at him for a minute. “If you want to speak to a librarian, the reference desk is right over there.” 

He stood there and glared at us for a minute before stomping off.

“Did that really just happen?” She asked when he was gone.

“Let’s pretend it didn’t.”

Thinking back on it, it makes me happy I moved in to a position that put a counter between me and our patrons. Some of them are a little unstable.

-Late Fines.