Librarianing it again, some more!

Quick service announcement first:

LivingSocial's deal today is two Fandango movie tickets for $9. You have to buy the voucher today but you can get your Fandango passes anytime before June 6th. I just bought the deal so GH and I will be going to see Thor this spring for cheap. And yes, I'm sure you can guess whose idea Thor is. (Comic books + Natalie Portman = GH Nirvana.)




If anyone wants to get in on it, my shameless request is that you use this link so that I can get credit for referring you. I know. Vulgar.

But my actual post is about how I've started going back to work part time. It's only one morning and one evening a week, but it will bring in some much-appreciated cash so that I can support my habits. Like my Internet habit. And my food-eating habit. Other benefits:

1. I get access to a bigger library with an awesome DVD collection. My own local library, bless its heart, does not really have the budget for that. Also the staff refuse to look up from their computers at you and they won't let you look at your own dang blog on its public computers, but I will not be getting into that right now.

2. Adults! Oh my gosh there are adults here and I can speak with them! Sure, some of them smell like pee and are possibly insane, but that's okay. I will take that trade-off.

3. I officially have new things to talk about. I can talk about what happened at the library this week instead of sticking to my usual conversational gambits involving baby snot. Not that I won't keep bringing up the snot because I think we all know that's fascinating, fascinating stuff.

4. Books! I remember about the books! It's only been three months and I am already so out of the loop. I have no idea what is hip an' cool in Book Land. But no longer, friends!

No longer.

Read More

How you know it's time to quit working

A sweet elderly lady asked me about a book today, and after checking the catalog I told her it was checked in.

Then she asked me if I could find the book for her and I told her to go &*&^%$ (#$%. And then I shot her in the face.

Or, I just sort of stared at her for a millisecond while the following ran through my mind.

"Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME. No, no, that's great. Your legs work and everything but sure. I'LL get it. I will just heave myself out of this chair and stagger my way over there while He Who Must Not Be Named plays break-dancing bouncy castle on my cervix. I will just luuuuuumber over there, wincing all the way, taking out small children with my errant hips. Let me go get that book for you. LET ME."

Clearly, I have possibly reached some sort of expiration date. It's a good thing I only have a few days left. It will be safer for everyone.

Read More

When a question really isn't a question

You know you're in for it when a patron walks over and asks, "Can you tell me where you keep the movies that aren't rated R?"

What I should have said: "I wouldn't know, that's the only kind I watch." Or, perhaps, "Dude. I'm 9 months pregnant. My kid is punching me in the cervix as we speak. You really want to have a go at me? Because I'm not actually stable."

What I did say: "Well, there for sure aren't any R-rated movies in the children's area."

Patron: "Do I look like a child?"

Me: "Hmmmm." (Do not engage, do not engage . . . )

When it seemed safe, I did point out that our selection policy involves buying movies for the entire population, and not everyone is going to like everything.

Him: "Well, this is a very liberal area. That's why the R-rated stuff is so popular here."

Me: "Mmmm." (Not engaging, not engaging . . .)

Him: "Lots of Democrats in this area. They influence everything."

Me: (Engage!) "Well, that can't be entirely true, if the election was any indicator." (Sigh . . .)

That thought cheered him, though, and he let me show him a couple of TV series that he and his wife might like. And then we were fast friends.

Read More

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean, etc.

Today I wore a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of black (secretly yoga) pants to work. And then I led two different storytimes and quite possibly jogged the baby loose with all the antics I must do as part of said events. (Seriously, I'm pretty sure I know how labor is going to start, and it's going to involve "Shake My Sillies Out," a sudden gush of fluid, possibly a head or foot, and a room-full of permanently-damaged toddlers.)

I did receive several compliments on the outfit and accompanying bump, which I treasured and am writing down so that 10 or so weeks from now I can remember the good ol' days when people said things like, "Hey, you make pregnancy look cute!" instead of just staring at me with a horrified expression and running away lest I explode and get fluids and other matter on them like something out of Cloverfield.

One girl, upon hearing that I'm 7 months pregnant, exclaimed at how small I still appear to be and wondered if my doctors are concerned at all. Which is when I started wondering if maybe I look smaller today because the baby has, in fact, started shrinking--probably because I'm not eating enough or drinking enough water and the amniotic fluid is drying up and it's all my fault. I called GH up to discuss this with him.

Only it turns out he maybe already has too many worries going on to tackle the one about whether the baby is shrinking. On his list: Is the apartment we're looking to move into a former meth lab? How can we be sure? What about the smoker who lived there before? Could the smoke still be in the walls, lurking in wait to brain-damage our child? And why is there an exterminator parked in front of the complex? Are they spraying chemicals? What kind of chemicals? Is that how the child is going to end up brain damaged?

To reassure him, I called the potential future landlord who said that the apartment has not been a meth lab. To reassure myself, I ate a high-fiber open-faced chili dog sandwich. And put a peach cobbler in the oven. Never let it be said your mama doesn't love you, baby.

Read More

Conversation between me and a sweet lady at the library

Sweet lady: Okay, can I ask? Are you married?

Me: Yes, I am.

SL: And are you pregnant?

Me: Yep!

SL: Then congratulations!

. . . okay . . .

Am kind of wondering how this conversation would have gone if I'd answered "No" to the first question. Any thoughts?

Will be pondering this tonight at the Utah State Fair, until I'm too busy with my annual deep-fried peanut butter & jelly sandwich to ponder anything except why my left arm feels so dang tight and ouchy. The Precii are signing up to compete in the Mutton Bustin' competition, so please cross fingers that their names get called. And that they don't get their heads kicked in by a sheep. Thank you.

Read More

Smack. and. Down.

Fox News in Chicago recently ran a story about the Chicago public library system. In the article, journalist Anna Davlantes questions whether libraries are really worth the taxpayer dollars it takes to run them, and if that money would perhaps be better spent elsewhere. Her question is, "So with the internet and e-books, do we really need millions for libraries?"

In order to determine how many people use the library and what they are using it for, she placed an "undercover camera" in (what turned out to be lower-traffic spot in) the library. Based on her findings, Davlantes decided that people only go to the library to use the free Internet.

Which . . . just goes to show that not only does she not use libraries, but she didn't bother to actually get any real information about the people who do. The whole article is short, poorly researched, and does nothing other than give the bunker-dwellers more blind fodder for shutting down libraries.

Only then. Then, the Chicago Public Library Commissioner Mary A. Dempsey responded with a letter that delivered the "smack. and. down." referred to in this post's title. (Which, I must tell you, is a cleaner version of what first came to me upon reading the thing, which was "b****. and. slap.")

I can't post it here, it's too long. But it is too, too, entirely too good to pass up. Seriously. Go read it right now. You have to. And then check out some of the comments because they are awesome too.

Tiny note: Dempsey references the "digital divide" in her letter, which is librarianspeak for how, more and more, access to computers & the ability to use them makes a big difference between the "haves" and the "have-nots." People are frequently required to use computers and go online in order to do things like apply for jobs or for unemployment benefits. But you are less likely to have a computer and Internet access (or to even know how to use a computer) if you are poor or unemployed. Which is how people end up at the library, because that's where they're told to go. Even though we are limited in the amount of time we can spend helping each person, at least we can help a little bit.

Also? She points out that the 74 branches of the Chicago Public Library circulated over 10 million items last year. Which leads me to point out that the 19 branches of the Salt Lake County library circulated over 15 million. So, you know, tiny boo-yah there. I'm just saying.

Read More

You'll be relieved to hear

Recent conversation with library user

Library user: Hey, I ran out of time on the computer but I wasn't done sending my email yet. Can you do anything for me?

Me: I can start you another session, just let us know when you're running out of time, because it's easier for us to extend it then.

LU: Okay, great. Thanks

He hands me a flash drive. I wonder what he wanted me to do with it.

LU: Oh, that's your flash drive, the other librarian lent it to me.

Me: Oh, okay. Thanks.

LU: It's just that I have a solution for the oil spill, and I need to send it off to the government. That's why I need more time on the computer.

Me: Oookay then.

See? Don't you feel better now? Except hey, I'm going to go ahead and cross fingers that he does have a brilliant idea that will work, because so far no one else seems to.

Read More

I know lots of things, actually

Another warm day in the library. My big clue was when a guy came in wearing shortshorts and a mesh muscle shirt. I think the armpit holes had been enlarged even more, so it was pretty much like he was wearing one of those mesh pinnies with the flags that you wear during 4th-grade PE. (Remember that game where you try to run across the field without getting your flags torn off or your teeth elbowed out? Good times.)

But I digress.

I have decided that there probably needs to be a patron dress code for the library. I would settle for a simple sign that reads, "Unless you're feeding a baby with it, I shouldn't be able to see your nipple. Thank you."

Because that's what was right in my line of sight the entire time I was helping this gentleman. He was trying to track down what turned out to be an out-of-print cd by Wings.

Him: Are you sure you can't find it? It's by Wings. That's Paul McCartney's band. Do you know who Paul McCartney is? Or the Beatles?

Me: Dude, I know enough to keep my boobs covered in public, so yeah, I know who the Beatles are.

Except that last part was maybe my head.

Also, we have tickets to see Paul McCartney when he comes to Salt Lake City in July (not that we know who he is or anything). Please pray that Sir Paul doesn't die or get maimed or snagged by a(nother) gold-digger or any other bad thing before the concert, because if something were to go wrong then I'm pretty sure GH would never recover and I'd just be married to a broken shell of a person who will then be useless as a birthing partner.

You can see how straight my priorities are here.

Read More

Newsflash

Your dogs don't belong in the library.

Really. They don't.

This is not a park, it's not some rural tavern in France, it's a library.

Just thought you might need somebody to clear that up for you. I know it's hard to keep stuff like this straight.

Read More

It's getting warm and the clothes are coming off!

Working in the library, I can tell what kind of day it is outside by the way the library visitors dress. The other day I could tell we'd cleared 60 degrees because everyone who came in was either naked or wearing a beach cover-up.

This was fun when two little damp chlorine-drenched boys asked me for help finding Go, Diego, Go! DVDs. (My response: "I will absolutely help you, as soon as your little brother hops on down from that shelf." And yes, I will hold Diego hostage in order to bend children to my will.) The little boys (ages 6 and 4) crowded around me as I did a search in the catalog and one of them proudly whispered, "We just went to swimming lessons!"

Me: "I can smel--I mean, tell that you did! How was it?"

Little boys: "Really good."

Me: "Did you put your face in the water?"

Little boys: "Yes!"

Me: "Way to go! Now go teach my scaredy-pants niece how to do that." Except that last part was possibly in my head.

The "it's warm out and so I don't have to wear clothes" thing was less fun today when I helped a very nice mother and her (also nice) teenaged daughter reserve a book. The daughter was wearing teeny weeny tiny shorts, and she'd rolled down the waistband several times so that the shorts covered even less of her.

"I'd really like to help you ma'am, but I'm slightly distracted by the part where I can see your daughter's cervix."

Read More

Getting my votes in

On Monday all the Newbery/Caldecott/Sibert/Geisel awards will be announced, and I figured I'd slip in my picks now so that just in case something I like gets a medal I won't look like I jumped on a winner bandwagon after the fact. Cuz, you know, street cred among librarians is an intense, intense thing. Shivs slipped into cardigan sleeves and all that.

I've been reading off the lists of "books with potential" that other libraries are using for their own Mock Newbery competitions. Only . . . here's a the thing. Not too many of the books I've read this year have blown me away and made me want to run out and tell everyone about them. There are certainly some that I really like, and that I think are better than the others, but nothing that really brie'd my baguette, you know?

Reading so many books in a short amount of time, though, made me notice certain trends.

This year, war is a big one. Several books are set during the Vietnam war:

All the Broken Pieces

Kaleidoscope Eyes
Neil Armstrong is my Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me

And there are a couple dealing with Iraq/Afghanistan

Peace, Locomotion

Heart of a Shepherd

I know that in kids' books one of the first thing you want to do is get rid of the parents, but a lot of these did it in some pretty depressing ways. First we had the (many, many) kids who are foster kids or orphans:

Peace, Locomotion

SLOB
Carolina Harmony

The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg

All the Broken Pieces
Neil Armstrong is my Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me

And the ones who are dealing with the death or abandonment of a parent:

Love, Aubrey

Also Known as Harper
The Girl Who Threw Butterflies
Kaleidoscope Eyes

Heart of a Shepherd
All the Broken Pieces

Cheery, huh? But now on to my faves.


#1: SLOB by Ellen Potter. Technically, because of the age of the narrator, this one is YA. And it's wonderful. It's about a bright (perhaps genius) middle-schooler named Owen. Owen is the heaviest kid at his school and is busy working on two inventions, one of which is a trap to catch the person who keeps stealing the Oreos in his lunch box. I would recommend that you NOT read other descriptions of the book, because they might give too much away. One of the best things about SLOB is that you begin reading a seemingly simple tale about a fat kid's problems at school, but then it becomes much more emotionally complex (and breaks your heart) as crucial elements are revealed.

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg. This one is written in free verse, and is about a 12-year-old boy named Matt whose mother had him airlifted out of Vietnam with the departing US soldiers. His adoptive family loves him and he's on his way to being the star of the school baseball team. But he is met with some racism on the team and must slowly come to terms with his painful memories of Vietnam and of the mother and younger brother he left there.

Heart of a Shepherd by Rosanne Parry. This is another War book, about a boy named Ignatius who is left to try to run his family's Oregon ranch practically on his own while his father (along with all the other military reserve members of the community) is serving in Iraq and his brothers are away with the Army or at college. Religion plays an important element in the story--there's a Quaker grandpa and the community's new Catholic priest. This is a coming of age story that I really enjoyed.

Love, Aubrey by Susan LaFleur is one of our "abandoned/orphaned/neglected girl makes good" entries, and I think it's the best one of them. Aubrey's father and sister are killed in a car crash, and her mother pretty much implodes with grief and runs away, leaving her behind. Aubrey goes to live with her grandmother in another state, where she begins to get settled and makes friends. The book is a series of letters that Aubrey writes to an imaginary friend, where she works out her feelings about being abandoned, not only by her father and sister but also by her mother. It does have a hopeful ending though, in case you were worried.

Peace, Locomotion is the sequel to 2003's Locomotion, which I haven't read. I do like Jacqueline Woodson, though, and I really liked this. It's told in a series of letters from Lonnie to his little sister. They both live in foster homes after the death of their parents, and they communicate through letters and occasional Saturday visits. Lonnie talks about his struggles at school, the teachers who encourage him in his poetry endeavors, and his foster mother's worry over her son who is fighting (and then goes missing) overseas.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead is the book with the strongest Newbery buzz. I'll be fine if it wins, even though I believe I liked SLOB better. It's about a 6th grader named Miranda living in 1979 New York City. She's reading A Wrinkle in Time, and suddenly starts to receive mysterious anonymous letters that predict future events accurately. The notes are urgent and indicate that something important is about to happen. While she tries to work this out, Miranda is also having friendship struggles and helping her mother train to be a contestant on the $20,000 Pyramid. You definitely should read this one. And then once you get to the end you will be probably tempted to go back and read it again to find the clues you missed the first time around.

Does anybody have their own Newbery predictions or favorites? (And yes, I believe those two things are frequently incompatible, since it seems that some Newbery committees are just hell-bent on choosing books that they loved the pants off of but which no child would ever want to read. Which is fine, I guess, if you take Children's Literature to mean "Literature about Children" rather than "Literature for Children.")

Read More

My new favorite thing

Is when families go to the doctor and their children are diagnosed with H1N1 and are told to go home and get themselves quarantined. The family then leaves the doctor's office to go home . . .

. . . and stops by the library on the way home, where they all spend an hour choosing all the books and DVDs they'll need for the week.

Thanks for that, guys.

Read More

All parents are not created equal

Today a mom noticed that her toddler had located a little kids magazine and was beginning the "I'm going to rip this magazine because I am in awe of my strong ripping powers!" process. She rushed over to stop him but got there about a second too late. So she took the magazine away, informed him that we do not rip things, and found him a very sturdy book to read. She then brought the magazine over to me, told me what happened, and asked if she needed to pay for it.

I told her not to worry about it, that it looked like something I could easily fix with a bit of tape, and thanked her for bringing it over. Then we shared a laugh about toddlers and their Destructo ways.

This mommy is one of the good ones and I will always think of her this way unless something drastic should happen, like if I find her changing her baby's diaper in the middle of the children's section, using pages from a library book as wipes. Something like that.

Last night, the other kind of mother was here. She wasn't paying attention to her two little ones and they were running around like crazy loud dervishes. Crazy barefoot loud dervishes. One of the librarians went over and told her that her children needed to wear shoes in the library.

Mom: "Well, they chose not to wear shoes today."

Librarian, probably doing a massive internal eyeroll: "Well, if you choose to come to the library they need to have shoes on."

The mom proceeded to talk about how every time they come here someone ruins her children's library experience by saying things like "your kids need to wear shoes." And how we are making the library "not fun." And she wants to come back and speak with the director about how not-fun-making we are.

I wish I'd been there. My response would have been simple:

"Ma'am, sick people cough and spit on our floors, teens have thumbtack wars in the children's area, and a couple of weeks ago we found poop on the carpet. Still think your kids should be barefoot in here?"

Read More

Ruminations upon the subject of library parents

Rumination #1: When I politely inform you that your child is too young to be left alone in the children's section, the right thing to do is to log out of your Facebook page and go read with said child. A lesser option would be to make the child sit at the computer with you while she wonders aloud what bad thing she did for the librarian to banish her from the children's area.

Rumination #2: You just now realized we have a summer reading program, 4 days before school starts? And you want to enroll your kids?

Rumination #3: I really don't think your 6-year-old actually wants the book Twilight as his summer read prize. But way to make him pick that one anyway.

Rumination #4: Why would someone pay big bucks to adopt a tiny spicy exotic baby if she was just planning to take him to the library in a few years and then ignore him while he runs out the door and into traffic? Because really, it seems like there are other ways to blow your money.

Just, you know, things I get to ponder.

Read More

Clearly I missed the memo

There was one day last week wherein there must have been some sort of signal rising up from the library, Batman-beacon style, which telegraphed a message calling all crazies, drunks, over-tired children, and inattentive parents to the library.

"Tonight's the night! Come do your worst!"

This happens every now and then and we just deal with it in our various ways. My way involves locking myself in the janitor's closet with liquor. And also threatening to call the cops when a patron won't leave and wants to stand there defending his right to use the f-word to other patrons because if you look at the word's German origins it's really not that bad. I'm Day 1-ing it, dude. You do not want to dance with me, because nothing would give me more pleasure right now than to END YOU.

Anyway. Stuff like that happens. And I kill people and glory in the slaughter.

I don't think any of us, however, expected that night to find HUMAN POOP on the carpet in the children's section. Thankfully it was child-sized poop, although I suppose a perusal of this book could have helped us with identification. We found it in several different places, which was extra joyous. No one claimed responsibility. This was just after learning that an entire wall in the bathroom had been sprayed down with urine. It was all I could do not to stand up on a chair and bellow, "Which one of you let your child flipping CRAP ON THE FLOOR!!!" (Day 1, you remember. Not a safe time. For anyone.)

So, yeah. Apparently not only was it Bring on the Crazy Night, it was also National Library Defecation Day, and I didn't even realize it. If I had known, I could have put up a display or something.

Read More

I love me some Friday

Days like Wednesday make me think I should get a new job. Or just leave the world of work entirely.

I don't know if it's the rainy weather, the bad economy, or what, but we were swamped all day long. Children ran and screamed everywhere. The H-B possibly made another appearance, based on the description the PTSDed shelver gave me of the destruction. A toddler slipped out the doors by himself in the melee and they shut behind him (not ON him, mercifully) and he started toddling toward the street before someone saw him and alerted me. Homeless men wandered in and out. People asked me impossible questions like, "I'm looking for that movie that was set during World War II." A woman turned up with a Sheltie and tried to say she was training her to be a service dog. Which, sure, if "training" consists of letting a dog jump up on you repeatedly while you implore her to sit. (On the plus side, am now well versed in the state code regarding service & companion dogs. Quiz me.) I finally escaped and drove home only to find that my shoulders were hiked up around my ears. I had to go set cases of food storage on them to get them to go down again. Then I went to the temple, which was v. soothing.

But then days like yesterday remind me how much I actually enjoy being a librarian. All day long I was the happiness fairy, making everyone's wildest library dreams come true. I found the books and DVDs that appeared to be missing, I signed people up for library cards, I blew adults, teens, and children alike away with the glory that is the summer reading program. I weeded out a few overpacked shelves, winning the love of the beleagured shelvers. I taught teens how to use the online catalog to reserve their books and I introduced a brother and sister to the world of graphic novels. A woman walk up to the desk with her children and said, "Hi, we were hoping you would be here today!"

And then I got to go eat raclette and discuss nursing pads with my dinner group. How could you NOT love a day like that?

(image from Wikipedia's Raclette page)

Read More

Because letter writing is an endangered art

Dear mother who allowed her small child to sweep an entire shelf of juvenile non-fiction books and, later, about 50 board books out onto the carpet in scattered heaps and then waltzed off without trying to straighten it up or notify anyone of the mess,

You are a ho-bag.

Love,
Nem


Dear everybody else,

Here is how to not be a ho-bag while using your library.

1. Please keep an eye on children who might be prone to creating such messes. Actually, just keep an eye on your children, period. If you can't see them, that is not good. Seriously. There are freaky people at libraries. And things children might be tempted to climb up and then fall off of. Also sharp corners. And maybe exposed wiring. Who even knows.

2. When your child makes a mess, please clean it up. I don't CARE if the other kids were pulling out board books too. Please take pride in your library and don't leave it looking trashed.

Helpful Note: You library should have several shelves or carts specifically designed for books that need to be put away. Locate them and make them your friends. If at the end of your visit you realize that you have all these items you don't want to check out, you can just leave them on that shelf/cart to be put away by the library staff. Then you're not leaving a mess, the books go back where they belong, everybody wins and can go frolic in the meadows together while sharing moments of ecstasy and love.

3. There are exceptions to the Stay And Clean It Up Your Own Dang Self Rule.

a. You discover a big ol' mess about 5 minutes after you needed to leave for another appointment.

b. You have a fussy/screaming child with you.

c. You're not sure how to clean it up (especially when it involves, say, reshelving books by Dewey Decimal number) or where the items go.

d. Your water just broke.

In such cases, gather the books up so it's obvious that you made an effort, then go find a library employee. Say words like this: "I'm so sorry, I turned my back on [----]den for a second and he made a big mess. I've tried to straighten it up but I'm not sure how to put these books away in order . . ." Just explain the situation. At this point the librarian or whoever will stop you and say, "Oh, don't worry, we'll take care of it, thanks for letting us know."

And they really will mean that. They'd much rather put the books back in the right order than have to go over and fix books that have been shoved somewhere willy-nilly. They would also much rather clean up the mess with a cheerful heart than listen to your child scream while you try to clean it. Pretty much if the choice is ever between a crying child and something else, we will always pick the something else. Trust me. (Unless the something else is poop or vomit.) And they will respect you for coming forward, for taking responsibility, and for asking for assistance rather than just assuming that it's the library staff's job to clean up the huge messes you regularly leave in your wake. As if the library were Denny's with books.

When they see you during subsequent visits, they will not think, "Oh great, here comes that hobag who lets her kids trash the library. We know what we'll be doing later." They will instead think, "Oh hey, it's that nice lady who takes responsibility and doesn't think we are servants. We like her."

And believe you me: it's good to have the librarians on your side.

Read More

My "you might be a librarian if" list

You might be a public librarian if:

All the copies of a book are checked out, and you have to stop yourself from running home and grabbing your personal copy to give to the nice disappointed patron.

Your version of heroin is hearing that someone loved a book you recommended.

You organize the books in your home library for fun.

You make less with your master's degree than many people do with their high-school degree.

You earned said masters degree so that you could spend your days showing people how to use their Yahoo email account. (First step, open a Gmail account instead. Yahoo sucks bricks.)

You laugh until you cry when you hear the phrase "librarian shortage." Then you go twist a few of the pins you keep in your ALA voodoo doll.

You secretly bristle when you hear the term "librarian" applied to just anyone who works in a library, up to and including janitorial staff. You realize this is an elitist behavior, but you just don't care.

Patrons mistake you for a tax adviser. Or financial adviser. Or lawyer. Or doctor. Or secretary. Or trash-thrower-awayer. All are flattering except for those last two. They are not so much.

Parents mistake you for a babysitter.

You dream about orchestrating a fake kidnapping in the children's section to teach people A Very Important Lesson but know that parents would probably not even notice anything was happening.

You have become adept at recognizing various psychiatric disorders.

You get to learn way, way too much about people's personal lives--usually by way of the bellowing cell phone conversations they're having right in front of you.

You get so used to reminding people about appropriate behavior that you have to stop yourself from doing it when you're off-duty. And maybe sometimes you don't stop yourself, and then your husband is embarrassed to be with you.

You develop an eye twitch 5 minutes before the junior high gets out--whether or not you can see the clock. Your body just knows.

You are happy when you find sex books hidden in random parts of the library, because it means a teenager is learning about sex from an actual book rather than from their idiot friends.

You sometimes get to make wallets and flowers out of duct-tape with a bunch of teenagers and call it work.

You got to read the last Harry Potter before anybody else.

You accost strangers in public about the books they are reading.

You cannot possibly narrow it down to one favorite book.

Are there any I'm forgetting?

Read More

And that other thing is NOT a cup-holder

So this one time at work a patron came up to me and said, "I'm trying to use one of the computers but it won't read my card." Then I went through the part where I ask the right questions and make sure they were typing in the right information, etc.

Patron: "No, I didn't TYPE in anything, I just put my card in and it won't read it."

Me: "Wait, you put your card in . . . where?"

Then I walk over and find a library card crammed into the floppy drive. And maybe get to spend 20 minutes trying to remove it.

This happens more frequently than you might imagine. Apparently the library's previous public computer system involved some sort of hardware on the computers where you inserted your library card. Which is the STUPIDEST IDEA IN THE WORLD, because it taught people to STICK NON-COMPUTER THINGS INTO COMPUTERS. And whoever thought of that needs to be killed, right alongside the dude who designed the mini-aisles in the chapels.

Read More

Tip for the dear dads out there

When you bring your precocious 11-year old to the library because he needs to read a science-fiction book for school, it's not actually a great idea to just wave him in the direction of the adult science fiction section with a chuckle and a shrug of your head. I know it's great that he's reading at such a high level, but what you may not realize is that some of these books are written for adults because there are adult things in them. Things like swearing, violence, and alien sex. That's kind of why we created the kid and young adult area, which we then populated with science fiction books absent of alien sex. We are thinkers in that way. So when the librarian is trying to steer your child to more age-appropriate-but-still-exciting materials, please just sit back and let her do her thing.

Preshaytcha.

Read More