Dispatches from a Public Librarian:
Volume One
By Scott Douglas
Dispatches from a Public Librarian
Copyright © 2009 by Scott Douglas
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Scott Douglas
Published 2009 by Douglas Editions
Smashwords Edition 1.0, October 2009
Table of Contents:
Introduction
Dispatch One
Dispatch Two
Dispatch Three
Dispatch Four
Dispatch Five
Dispatch Six
Dispatch Seven
Dispatch Eight
Dispatch Nine
Dispatch Ten
Dispatch Eleven
Dispatch Twelve
Dispatch Thirteen
Dispatch Fourteen
Dispatch Fifteen
Dispatch Sixteen
Dispatch Seventeen
Dispatch Eighteen
Dispatch Nineteen
Dispatch Twenty
Dispatch Twenty-One
Dispatch Twenty-Two
Dispatch Twenty-Three
Dispatch Twenty-Four
Dispatch Twenty-Five
Dispatch Twenty-Six
Dispatch Twenty-Seven
Dispatch Twenty-Eight
Dispatch Twenty-Nine
Dispatch Thirty
Dispatch Thirty-One
Dispatch Thirty-Two
Dispatch Thirty-Three
Dispatch Thirty-Four
Other Library Ramblings
Is Illiterarcy So Bad?
Is Illiterarcy So Bad? (Alternate Version)
Suspect
Aimee Bender is Evil
Nicholson Baker Is a Big Fat Idiot
Things That Pop Into My Head While Bored At the Reference Desk
All dispatches previously appeared in “Dispatches from a Public Librarian” on McSweeney.net. “Is Illiteracy So Bad?” appeared in The Morning News. “Suspect” appeared previously as “Working in the Library can be Strange” in the O.C. Register. All other pieces have either never appeared or appeared on my blog “Speak Quietly” (speakquietly.blogspot.com).
If you enjoy this free book, please also consider buying my memoir of library life: “Quiet, Please: Dispatches from a Public Librarian” (Da Capo Book, 2008), which is available as both an eBook and physical book.
Introduction
For some five years I have worked for a smallish public library nestled cozily between Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm in Orange County, California. This is where most of the observations in this dispatch will take place, although sometimes I do go to other libraries (some even far, far away), and I'll include those observations as they come.
I came into the library scene about eight years ago. I began as a student assistant at a college library in Fullerton. After receiving my bachelor's degree, I was bored, confused, and didn't want to get off my parents' insurance plan, so I enrolled in the Library Science and Information Technology program at San Jose State.
I will update this dispatch on a sometimes-regular basis, and will include stories about strange patrons, strange tales, and otherwise just strange things. The names and description of the patrons are purposely left out, so as to protect their privacy (libraries are real sticklers for this privacy stuff, which is why many have been in a tiff about the Patriot Act, but don't get me started).
Dispatch 1 (12/12/03)
Lost &
Found
Toy cell phone
Anime DVD case (no
disc)
Immigration papers
Photocopy of an income-tax
statement
Child's wallet, including two Mickey Dollars from
Disneyland
Stuffed teddy bear
Floppy disc
Ink
pen from CarCo.
Kids and Porn
The
most popular website this week for kids 8-14 is the
borderline-pornographic site Newgrounds.com. Newgrounds features a
splendid assortment of innocent kids games mixed together with
adult-oriented games. It is full of nudity, crude sexuality, drug
references, violence, and swearing. One favorite, for girls
surprisingly, is the dress-up Britney Spears game, which so happens
to feature a Britney without any underwear on. The content of the
site seems geared at high-school-aged kids, but 95 percent of the
kids that I caught looking at the site were still in elementary
school. The library has decided to ban Newgrounds, and library
Internet filters prevent kids from accessing it further. Curious
about how they found the site, I asked some of the kids; their
responses varied, but by and large it was from web banners on
non-adult websites that had either chat rooms or cheat codes for game
systems (e.g., PS2, Xbox, and Game Cube).
Patron of the Week
Reflecting
on who my favorite patron is on any given week is difficult—there
are so many. My favorite patron this week would have to be the one
who tried to take my shoes. The patron was a mentally challenged man
who was visiting the library as part of his rehabilitation. He came
up to me while I was in the juvenile-fiction area and asked if I
would be his friend. I politely nodded and said that I would be his
friend. He then asked if he might have my shoes. I told him, as
gently as possible, that I needed to keep them. He nodded, and asked
if I was still his friend. I said yes, and he asked if he could feel
my shoes. Seeing no harm in this, I told him he could feel one, but
he had to do it quickly. He nodded, bent down, and proceeded to lift
up my foot and pull off my shoe. A little panicked, I told him that
shoes had to stay on in the library. He knew by my tone that he had
done something he should not have. He began saying he was sorry over
and over again. I told him it was okay. He asked if we could still be
friends. I said yes and he left. The next day he came into the
library looking for me while I was taking a break. He asked the
librarian at the reference desk if the priest was there, and then
went on to describe the priest as me.
Book Drop
The
strangest item found in the book drop was the head of a blond plastic
doll wrapped in pink tissue paper.
Patron of the Week
It
always surprises people to know that patrons frequently verbally, and
sometimes physically, assault librarians. This week's memorable
patron was the man who said he'd be waiting for me after work. The
man came in on a Saturday to use the Internet. He was middle-aged,
tired, but seemingly friendly at first. I assigned him a computer on
the other side of the library. Saturdays are usually slow and quiet
at the library where I work, and usually I pass time by studying the
palm of my hand from different angles. Things got a little loud,
however, when the man I had assigned to the Internet began yelling
into his cell phone (as a side note, if anyone has ever been asked to
turn their cell phone off in the library, it is because many people,
while normally quiet in regular conversation, get quite loud when on
the phone). I approached the man and I explained that it was library
policy that cell phones remain off in the library, and if he wanted
to continue his conversation, he'd have to use the phone outside. The
man, clearly upset that I had so rudely interrupted his phone call,
explained that he was talking with an important Sprint PCS customer
service agent regarding his most recent billing statement, and that
he needed the Internet to access his bill. Before I could respond,
the man turned and went back to his phone conversation, explaining to
the costumer service agent that he was sorry but an "idiot
librarian" had tried to end his call. No librarian likes to have
his or her authority as librarian undermined. It's not a power issue,
rather a simple fact that policy has been disturbed and you don't
mess with library policy and get away with it. Nonetheless, I was in
a good mood, so I walked around the man (so as to face him), and I
asked him if he'd consider talking in a quiet-like fashion and
finishing the call quickly. He said he'd finish the call when he was
done talking and not a minute sooner. I turned off his computer and
asked him to leave; and that's when he stood (and also when I
realized he was quite tall) and screamed, "you want to see loud"
in a fashion that made everyone in the library turn around and look
at the man a little frightened. I didn't think he meant it as a
question, so I decided not to answer him, which only made him louder
as he asked, "Who do you think you are?" I knew at this
point that the situation was quickly getting complicated, and to make
matters worse the man really did not have very good breath. I told
the man he was being disruptive and he needed to leave the library. I
knew he wasn't going to go out without further fuss, but I still
hoped. I returned to the reference desk, and the man of course
followed. He asked for my name, and when I gave it, he said he was
going to go see the mayor and have my job. He started to leave, but
turned back around after only a few steps, and said he would be
waiting for me after work and I was going to be sorry. Finally, he
left, at which point one of the library volunteers (a high school
kid) approached me and said, "that was awesome, I thought he was
going to jack you up right in the library!" Later that day I
received a call from another librarian at the city's main library
asking if I had had any problems that day with a patron. I said yes,
and asked the librarian why. He said the man had come into the main
library and filed a complaint against me. I asked if he mentioned
coming back after I got off work to beat me up. He had forgotten to
mention that. After work, I approached the parking lot with a bit of
caution, but the man was not there, nor have I seen him since that
Saturday.
Book Drop
The
strangest item in the book drop this week was an unlit firecracker.
Patrons putting firecrackers in the library overnight book drop does
not happen as often as some people imagine. This is only the second
time I've seen one (although it was the first time I had seen one
unlit). The first one destroyed seven books and damaged over a dozen
others.
Dispatch 3, Special Movie Edition (2/03/04)
As the film-award season begins its winter blossom, it seems appropriate to include a special movie pullout edition of this dispatch. Enjoy...
Books to Movies
Every
winter, summer, spring, and... well, basically every month... it
happens. A movie comes out that everyone thinks is good and that
movie happens to be based on a book. As it turns out, Hollywood is
big business for libraries because they increase the circulation of
books that have been otherwise collecting dust for some time. This
holiday/Oscar season has released a swarm of movies based on books,
which has been a true blessing for some books, and did nothing for
others. With the exception of The Return of the King and The
Cat in the Hat, it has been months (in some cases years) since
the books have been checked out. Here is how the books made into
movies are faring this winter.
The Return of the King by
J. R. R. Tolkien
4 - Available
3 - Missing
1
- Lost
7 - Checked out
Master and Commander by
Patrick O¹Brian
3 - Checked out
0 - Available
Cold Mountain by Charles
Frazier
1 - Available
Cheaper by the Dozen by
Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
1 - Missing
House of Sand and Fog by
Andre Dubus III
1 - Available
1 - Check out
Big Fish by Daniel
Wallace
1 - Available
Paycheck: And Other Classic
Stories by Philip K. Dick (also in The Short Happy
Life of the Brown Oxford)
1 - On order
The Cat in the Hat (English)
by Dr. Seuss
8 - Checked out
2 - Available
1
- Lost
1 - Missing
The Cat in the Hat (Spanish)
by Dr. Seuss
8 - Checked out
1 - Available
1
- Lost
Mystic River by Dennis
Lehane
2 - Available
Timeline by Michael
Crichton
1 - Available
1 - Check out
Notable Librarians in Sometimes
Notable Films:
*Sylvia Marpole, An
Extremely Goofy Movie (voiced by Bebe Neuwirth)
*Marian
Paroo, The Music Man [1962] (played by Shirley
Jones)
*Lynn Wells, Major League (played by
Rene Russo)
*Librarian, Billy Elliot (played
by Carol McGuigan)
*Angela Benedict, Seven Faces of
Dr. Lao (played by Barbara Eden)
*Sara Waters/Laura
Burney, Sleeping with the Enemy(played by Julia
Roberts)
*Children's Librarian, A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn(played by Lillian Bronson)
Notable Library Scenes in Sometimes
Notable Films:
*The Breakfast Club—most
of the movie takes place in a school library of sorts.
*A
Beautiful Mind—several scenes are shot at the Princeton
University library.
*Finding Forrester—The New
York Public Library is featured in one scene.
*Forever
Young—One of the scenes takes place in the California
Public Library in Inglewood.
Number of Oscar Best
Picture—Nominated Films That Were Once Books: A Five-Year
History
2002—4/5
2001—2/5
2000—2/5
1999—2/5
1998—1/5
Dispatch 4 (2/16/04)
Lost & Found
Eminem
[The Eminem Show, edited version], scratched CD (no
case)
Pacifier
Pink plastic sandal, left foot
(toddler-size)
Black cotton sweater
Floppy
disc
JanSport backpack (empty)
Worn out copy of The
Client by John Grisham with the inscription: ³Happy
19th birthday! Love, Grandma and Grandpa, 1999²
Library Books Most Likely to Go MIA
or AWOL Last Year:
GED Study Guide, by
Various Authors
On the Road, by Jack Kerouac
Night,
by Elie Wiesel
The Red Badge of Courage (Cliffs Notes) ,
by Patrick J. Salerno
Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good
People? , by Melvin Tinker
Two Badges: The Lives
of Mona Ruiz, by Mona Ruiz and Geoff Boucher
Tax Day
Number
of patrons on April 16 who asked, "When is the last day to file
my 2003 tax return?": 5
Number of patrons on April 17 who asked, "When is the last day to file my 2003 tax return?": 1
Lost & Found
Blue
gym shorts
One toddler shoe (right foot)
Handwritten
poem (untitled)
Black wallet (no cash or identification)
Rate Me
This
week the apparent "it" site for kids is ratingpictures.com.
This is a curious site that teaches kids how to be shallow. Visitors
to the site rate pictures of people based on what they look like. The
scale is a one-to-ten format with one being the ugliest and ten being
the prettiest. When asked why they spend hours at this site, the most
common response was "It's fun." The average age of kids
viewing the site was fifth to eighth grade. None of the kids
suspected that the pictures were of real, actual people; to them the
people were fake, and therefore had no feelings.
Series
Books
Total number of available copies of books in the series:
Harry
Potter series: 87 (hardback and paperback)
Left Behind for
Kids series: 34 (paperback)
Captain Underpants series: 51
(hardback and paperback)
Baby-sitters Club series: 78
(paperback)
Series of Unfortunate Events series: 26
(hardback)
Star Wars series: 43 (paperback)
Magic
Tree House series: 69 (hardback and paperback)
Goosebumps
series: 19 (paperback)
Mary Kate & Ashley series: 37
(paperback)
Dispatch 6 (5/10/04)
It's not incredibly strange to have an odd thing happen with a patron in the restroom, but to have two in a week...that kind of thing's worthy of an entire dispatch devoted to the bathroom.
Patron One
On
Saturday, I was minding my own business when a library clerk came to
me and said there were complaints about a patron sleeping in the
restroom. "Sleeping in the restroom?" I questioned,
believing that somewhere in this short statement there had surely
been a misunderstanding. "Sleeping in the restroom," he
assured me. I hate being informed of such things, because this means
I have to do something about it. I could handle the time I had to
tell a man he needed to pull his pants up a little higher because he
was exposing himself in such a way that it was offensive to patrons;
I could handle telling patrons that they're not allowed to look for
pornography on the library computers; I can even keep a straight face
when someone asks if we have The Complete Idiot's Guide to
Sex. But sleeping in the restroom—there was something
sacred about the restroom that I hated to disturb. I approached the
restroom with a bit of weary caution. Man #1 was using the urinal;
Man #2 was sleeping on the floor of stall one (our only stall) with
his head resting against the toilet. I left the restroom and told the
clerk that, yes, there was indeed a man sleeping on the restroom
floor. I knew what his follow-up question would be: "What should
we do?" I shrugged, waited for Man #1 to leave the restroom,
then entered the restroom once more and said, "Sir, are you
okay?" It had not escaped me that Man #2 might have had some
sort of freak restroom accident and was thus unconscious. "Yes,"
was Man #2's reply. I was really hoping he was unconscious and there
was thus a reason for his odd behavior that was justifiable. Instead
I had to reason that Man #2 was just plain nutty, and I hated having
to reason such thoughts about patrons. I thought quickly for what I
could say. "You're not allowed to sleep in the restroom."
There was nothing original about this, but it was fast thinking.
"Okay," Man #2 said. I had expected some resistance and
when none came a part of me was a little disappointed. I left the
restroom with that feeling of accomplishment you get when you kick a
man out of the restroom for sleeping on the floor, then ran to the
front of the library to get a good view of the man when he left the
library (he had been behind the stall with the door shut and I could
only make out his backside). When Man #2 left, I was surprised to see
that this was a regular patron, granted one that was sometimes a
little off, but not exactly the type of person I'd take for sleeping
on restroom floors.
Patron Two
Patron
number two is the man who sang romantic Spanish tunes in the
restroom. He came on an otherwise normal Thursday evening about an
hour before closing. I was sitting at the information desk looking
intently at a blank computer screen when a library page came to me
and said, "There's a man in the bathroom who's been in there a
really long time." I shrugged and thought to myself that it was
a little weird for the library page to be keeping track of how long
patrons used the restroom. I said the patron was probably just having
a rough go at it, and to let me know if he was still there in thirty
minutes. The page nodded and continued, "That's not all. He's
singing in Spanish. He keeps flushing the toilet and then singing a
new song every time he flushes it. He's flushed the toilet at least
ten times since he went in." I asked what songs he was singing.
I don't know why I asked what he was singing; I don't think I would
have treated the situation differently if he were singing disco or
grunge. I suppose I was just curious. The page said he didn't know
because they were in Spanish, but they sounded romantic. I nodded and
told the page to follow me to the bathroom (it's always a good idea
to approach a strange situation in the library with another person
who can act as a witness should anything happen that requires police
attention). I stood with the page at the restroom door for several
minutes listening to the man sing in Spanish. He had a nice voice,
although he sang high notes a little off key. "What are you
going to do?" the page finally asked me. I shrugged. I was
preparing the encounter with the singing restroom man in my head;
first I'd ask if everything was okay, then I'd tell him to wrap it up
because we were closing the restroom in five minutes. I hated
restroom encounters with patrons—there was no way to make them
less awkward. I started for the restroom door, but it opened before I
went in. A tall Spanish man with a large sombrero on his head exited.
He was wearing a Disneyland T-shirt and faded jeans, and he carried a
ceramic cactus (the ones street vendors sell for haggled prices in
Tijuana). "Everything okay?" The man smiled and nodded,
"Sí." Then he left the library.
Odd Things Found in the Restroom
Sink
Toothpaste
Half-eaten Snickers
bar
Shoelace
Toothpick
Shaving cream
Prom
picture
Bundles of hair
Dispatch 7: Summer Movie Edition
Unlike the holiday season, when studios are eager to release movies with somewhat decent plots copied from sometimes decent books, summer movies tend to get their ideas from other movies. There will be, of course, some that come from books, but this does not do a lot for the books' circulation. Here's a rundown of how this summer's books-into- movies are faring as the summer box offices open for business.
A Slipping-Down Life by
Anne Tyler
1 - Available
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of
Azkaban (English) by J. K. Rowling
5 -
Available
10 - Checked out
4 - Missing
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of
Azkaban (Spanish) by J. K. Rowling
3 - Available
1
- Checked out
The Stepford Wives by Ira
Levin
Not Available
Around the World in Eighty Days
by Jules Verne
1 - Available
1 - Missing
A Widow for One Year by
John Irving (inspired the filmThe Door in the Floor)
1
- Available
The Notebook by Nicholas
Sparks
2 - Available
1 - Missing
I, Robot by Isaac Asimov
5
- Available
1 - Checked out
The Bourne Supremacy by
Robert Ludlum
1 - Checked out
A Home at the End of the World by
Michael Cunningham
Not Available
Princess in the Spotlight by
Meg Cabot (inspired the film The Princess Diaries 2: Royal
Engagement)
2 - Available
3 - Checked out
Vanity Fair by William
Makepeace Thackeray
1 - Available
Notable Librarians in Sometimes
Notable Films:
Betty Lou, The Gun in
Betty Lou's Handbag (played by Penelope Ann Miller)
Bertha
Anderson, Citizen Kane (played by Georgia
Backus)
John Lewis, Only Two Can Play (played
by Peter Sellers)
Alicia Hull, Storm Center (played
by Bette Davis)
Lily, Lily of the Dust (played
by Pola Negri)
Notable Library Scenes in Sometimes
Notable Films:
Ghostbusters—New York
Public Library is featured
Breakfast at
Tiffany's
Philadelphia—Furness Building at
the University of Pennsylvania is featured
Dispatch 8: Three Tales of the Internet
Tale #1: In Which an Elderly Patron Unintentionally Tries to Destroy a Computer
Elderly patrons are very sweet people who very frequently bring me food, tell me how much they appreciate the library’s presence in the neighborhood, and small-talk about their favorite mysteries and true-crime books. They’re pleasant to be around—unless they want to use a computer. I am convinced that grandkids are inherently evil people who tell their grandparents to “just go to the library and open up an e-mail account—it’s free and so simple.”
Of course, the free part gets them to the library in swarms, and, of course, they don’t want to take part in the library’s free Internet classes, because ... well, in the words of one elderly patron, “I don’t need a class, because my grandkid said it was simple, and you can just show me the basics.” One such elderly patron came to the library not too long ago with such ideals. Strangely, his trouble was not so much opening an e-mail account as it was using the print card.
Print cards are pesky little things librarians institute for the sake of harassing patrons and discouraging them from printing anything. Often, it works, but this little old man was persistent. I showed him step by step what to do to print, and he was doing pretty well. He seemed to be paying careful attention: he hit the print button like a pro, walked to the print station like a king. Then he screwed up—big time. At the print station, another patron told me some teenagers had just said the “f” word to her five-year-old son and then ran off to the boys’ room, where she was pretty sure they were up to no good. I told the elderly gentleman to hang tight and I’d be right back to help him.
I learned in just a short time that expecting him to hang tight was a mistake. When I returned to the man, he looked hopelessly confused. “It didn’t work,” he explained, frustrated. “And it won’t give me my print card back.” I walked to the print station and stared for several seconds at the card reader. I studied it from several angles but did not see his card. “You’re sure it didn’t come out?” I asked. He nodded, but then pointed at his computer. “It’s in there.”
I looked at the computer, confused. He pointed at the floppy-disk drive and said, “I tried pushing the button, but it still won’t come out.” I kneeled down and immediately saw the print card wedged deep inside the floppy-disk drive. I had seen paper clips, scrap paper, and pencils inside the floppy-disk drive, but this was the first print card.
I went to the workroom to get out some tweezers, and when I returned, the man was gone. I never saw him again.
Tale #2: In Which a Patron Decides to Record the Internet
Because I work in a small branch library with only a dozen or so Internet terminals (all of which are very close to where I sit), it has become a habit to do my best to ignore what patrons are viewing, so as to ensure their privacy. Last week, however, I noticed a woman sit down at a computer and pull from her small handbag a video camera. She logged in to her e-mail account, turned on her recorder, and proceeded to record messages that had been sent to her inbox. Using a video camera in a city building without prior consent from the city is not allowed, but I let her do it for a few minutes, more for the sake of personal amusement and curiosity than anything else. Finally, after about five minutes, I became bored watching the woman, so I approached her and explained that she would have to get city approval if she wanted to use her video camera in the library. She rolled her eyes and said, “Well, I was finished anyway.” She stuffed her camera back into her bag, looked suspiciously around, and left in a hurry.
Tale #3: In Which a Patron Has a Little Too Much Fun
There are different types of Internet users who visit the library. There’s the casual user, who uses the library’s Internet service perhaps once a month; the regular user, who uses it every day; the college user, who comes to the library only when their school’s lab is full; and many other types, which I’ll leave out for no real reason.
This final tale involves what I would describe as a regular user. I rarely saw him doing anything on the computer except sending and reading e-mail. He was quiet and never asked for help on the Internet. Then one day, as I was helping a younger patron find a book for his state-report assignment, the man came to me seeking help with printing.
When I got to his computer, I saw a picture of an overweight, fully nude Caucasian woman holding a jar of peanut butter. I told the man that this kind of material went against the library’s Internet usage policy. I have had to explain this policy to several patrons who have used the Internet terminals to view pornographic images, and every time, the patron does one of three things: they act embarrassed and apologize for their actions, they nod and quickly leave, or they try to defend their actions by saying that they are a taxpayer and can look at whatever they want to on the computer.
This man, however, explained quite seriously that, “I didn’t know you weren’t allowed to look at pornography on the Internet.” I nodded and pointed at the large sign above the computers, which stated clearly the library’s stance on this issue.
The man nodded and asked if he could still print the picture. I said no and added that, because he’d abused the library’s policy (a major no-no), he would now be banned from using the Internet. He nodded; then, to my surprise, flipped over a computer printout of a nude woman; and left with no further comment.
I did not bother asking how he was able to print the other picture without help.
Dispatch 9 (7/22/04)
Lost & Found
Butterfinger
candy bar (unopened)
Bottled water
Goodnight Moon board
book
3 pencils
Plastic wallet with Mickey ears
Patron of the Week
Walter
Scott's weekly "Personality Parade" in the "Parade"
section of the Sunday paper always reminds me of the library, mainly
because it almost always has someone who starts out their question
with something along the lines of "Please settle a bet."
It's amazing how many information-seeking phone calls libraries
receive that start in such a way, and I always enjoy answering them,
because it gives me pleasure knowing that someone somewhere has made
a quick buck off something I said. Last week, I received such a call
from an elderly woman wanting me to settle a bet between her and her
son. She wanted to know what countries in Europe the Great Wall of
China went through and what was the year Reagan tore it down. When I
explained that the Great Wall of China was still mostly intact and
that she probably meant the Berlin Wall, she replied coolly, "No,
hon, you see, the Berlin Wall is just the part of the wall that goes
through Berlin." I put on my best geography-teacher hat to try
and explain the Great Wall of China was, in fact, exclusively in
Asia. She replied, "I'm pretty sure you're wrong. What would be
so great about tearing down a wall in Germany? It's not even that big
of a country."
Book Drop
This week someone
decided to put all their creative powers to work by dumping dirt into
the library's overnight book drop.
Dispatch 10 (8/26/04)
Librarian Confessions
When I tell patrons to lower their voice in the library, I like to say it in a loud voice.
I tell patrons the library is closing in five minutes even though it's closing in ten minutes, just to make them think it's closing so they'll check out their books.
Sometimes I tell parents that their child's library card is showing a fine of $57.20 when it is actually showing a fine of 20 cents. After their eyes widen, I tell them I was just kidding.
I like to make up stories about people who work at the library. One day, for instance, two young boys were looking for books on wrestlers; I pointed to the man shelving books and said they should talk to him because he is a former pro wrestler. They spent 10 minutes asking him about various wrestlers he had beaten, even though he repeatedly denied that he was a pro wrestler.
When a patron asks what we do with the money we collect from fines, I tell them it's a Christmas slush fund and at the end of the year we buy each other presents.
When a kid asks for the fourth Harry Potter book, I tend to say, "Is that the one where Harry dies? Oh wait, no, that's in the fifth one—my bad."
When the fifth Harry Potter book arrived at the library before it was scheduled to be released to the public, I opened it up and read the first sentence just because I knew I wasn't supposed to.
I am frequently nicer to female patrons than to male patrons.
Sometimes I act like I don't know very much about computers just so I won't have to help a patron on the computer.
When a kid comes to the reference desk and asks, "Where are the books on dinosaurs?," I frequently will point very broadly at the rows of bookshelves and say, "Over there."
In the break room, I frequently complain to other workers about patrons who smell funny.
Dispatch 11 (10/13/04)
An Interview With Josh, Who Is a Library Page, and Whose Name Has Been Changed
What size shoe do you wear?
11½.
What's the best kind of shelving
shoe?
Vans.
What technique do you use to
secretly read a book while you're supposed to be shelving?
There's
a section in Juvenile Fiction—JF-L to JF-Z that cannot be seen
by the senior clerk unless she is wandering around the library. I get
in a squatting-type position in this area and position the book truck
in front of me in such a way that it sort of looks like I'm sorting
books on the bottom of the truck and not reading.
Do you remember those two Russian
girls that came in that one summer and all the guys were trying to
figure out ways to hit on them when they didn't know English?
Yes.
If there were a biopic made
detailing your life as a page, who would you want to play the role of
you?
I think Adam Sandler would do me justice, but only if it
were a drama—his comedic ability is at times lacking.
What's your favorite area to shelve?
Why?
Depends on my mood. I like videos and paperbacks, because
they can be shelved quickly, and bringing back trucks quickly makes
the clerks think I'm productive. If I'm reading what I shelve, then I
like the 900 section; I know more about history from shelving in this
section than from all the classes I've taken in college.
What's your least favorite area to
shelve? Why?
398s. They're never in order, and it's hard to
read the call numbers, because the spine is usually narrow.
What are the most common questions
you're asked while shelving?
Mostly where the bathroom is and
what time does the library close.
What's the best way to put books in
order? Dewey or LOC? Why?
Dewey. I don't know why.
On average, how many book trucks do
you shelve in one hour?
If I'm not careful about making sure
the books are in order—about 3. If I'm taking my time, then
1.5.
Are you jealous or competitive with
other pages?
Only when we're working on the same shift. I try
to shelve more than everyone else.
If you could be any book, what one
would you be? Why?
Probably one of those paperback romances.
Lonely, desperate women are always checking them out—it would
make me feel hot and wanted.
What do you think about the
library's checkout policy?
It's OK.
Dispatch 12 (12/6/04)
Waking the Dead
I've
heard awkward stories about people who've seen their patrons in an
uncomfortable setting. It's never happened to me until quite
recently. I was at a funeral. Can you see the writing on the wall?
No? Let me elaborate just a bit more. The church where the funeral
was being held was only a few blocks from the library I worked at.
The church's elementary school had visited the library a handful of
times, and I was usually the one that read them stories. After the
funeral, as I walked through the parking lot with other mourners, I
heard a kid yell from the playground on the opposite side of the
parking lot: "Hey, it's the library guy." I've always
wondered what it would be like to be a celebrity and not be able to
go anywhere without someone shouting your name; I sort of felt like a
celebrity at the funeral, and now I know how it feels ...
awkward—incredibly awkward. I looked at the handful of kids who
had gathered together after they heard the child's announcement; they
stared at me with curious eyes, and seemed excited that I had
stumbled onto their territory. I smiled, waved, and then bowed my
head and pretended to be mournful. I hoped the wave would have been
mighty enough to silence them. It wasn't. Another child yelled across
the parking lot: "What are you doing here, anyway?" I
looked around hoping by chance no one else had noticed the scene.
Unfortunately, people had. I wasn't about to yell out to the kids,
"I'm at a funeral," so I pretended I hadn't heard them and
walked quickly to my car.
Lost & Found
Virgin
Mobile cell phone (with a sticker picture of a boy who looks
curiously similar to the "Mikey Likes It" boy)
Transparent green diskette
Old Navy sweater
Right-footed flip-flop
DVD: Day After Tomorrow (no case)
Tattered copy of Junie B. Jones Is a Graduation Girl
Children's Pokemon wallet (no cash) with ticket stub forThe Incredibles from the AMC 30 @ The Block of Orange
Dispatch 13 (12/15/04)
The Bus Stop Is Near, No?
Working near Disneyland, I see a lot of people walk into the library from out of town—people visiting the city for the conventions, amusement parks, or (though they certainly won't admit it) the motels with ... hourly rates. Most of these patrons never come in long enough for me to remember their name, but there are exceptions. One such exception was Zelenka, a homely Czechoslovakian, and Veronica, her drop-dead-gorgeous (also Czechoslovakian) friend, who were both working for a hotel for the summer.
Veronica never once came into the library unnoticed; whenever she entered the building, it was like seeing a model do her thing on the fashion runway, putting on a little show for every person in the library (male, female, and even small children). It was fun watching all the desperate old men (who normally were occupied in Internet chat rooms and posting personal ads on dating sites), trying their best to communicate with the Czechoslovakian vixen, who knew little English and really just wanted to check her e-mail. There were even one or two requests for books on learning the Czechoslovakian language. Library pages, in their own attempts to get to know the wondrous lady better, would accidentally tap their book cart against the back of her chair, then apologize and engage in small talk, not seeming to notice that she probably understood only 10 percent at best of what they were saying. Sometimes the pages would say something she understood, and she would smile and joyfully repeat whatever word she had picked up: "Ah, yes, pancake!" Then, believing they had established a common connection, they would use the word in every sentence that followed.
I, of course, kept it professional (a hazard of the job being that all librarians must pretend to be boring while working ... except children's librarians, who, I'm pretty sure, take pills to maintain their abnormal amount of energy and perkiness). I felt a little sorry for Zelenka, who got no attention, but it was her own fault for this—there was no dazzle in her step or charm in her smile, and she had a horrid sense for fashion; to be quite honest her name only comes to mind when thinking of Veronica, but that' s beside the point. As their stay progressed and it became certain that they would soon leave for their homeland, the pages made mad attempts to have just one date.
Ultimately, however, it was I—the librarian—who had the last waltz ... though not literally, of course. The library was closing one night and Veronica was the sole patron in the building; I had not seen her companion Zelenka all day. As best as I could tell, she was supposed to have a ride home, but something happened; how anyone could have left such a beauty abandoned at a library in the night is beyond me, but they did, and I knew it would be up to me to protect the damsel in distress from the dangers of Southern California. I used gestures and slow speech to try to tell her that if she stayed outside the library alone she would surely die and that she should let me give her a ride home. And she did. I tried to make her feel safe as we drove; I told her about my country and asked her about hers—it was the same corny small talk I observed patrons using on her in the library. The same corny small talk that she never seemed to understand. She smiled mostly and stared at me confused. Once, she said, "I am Veronica," and another time, "The bus stop is near, no?" but mostly she smiled and said yes to things that didn't exactly warrant an answer. Before taking her home, I had never had any sort of conversation with her; the only thing I'd ever asked her was "How are you today?" and "Would you like to use the Internet?" Now that I had her in my car, and I was asking her less generic questions, she seemed less attractive. Seeing her stare at me confused, as I did my best to make her feel comfortable, made her seem a little ... dumb. I realize this feeling was caused mostly by the language barrier, but nonetheless, I couldn't help but feel as though I'd violated something a little sacred, and had stolen forever that beauty she had once given to me. She was like a store mannequin meant to be adorned but never touched.
When I pulled into the parking space in front of her motel room, I thought of all of the pages and patrons who had dreamed of such a moment—to be here, in front of her room, in the right seat to make a move. They probably would have had pickup lines that she would not have understood, or perhaps tried to charm her with their looks or incoherent ramblings that passed as humor in English, but there was only one thing I had in mind to say to her. I told her good night. She told me, "I go. The bus stop is near, no?" and then she waved and ran to her room. From that moment on, I did not view her with the same admiration that I had when she first came into the library; all I saw when she came into the building was the friendly woman who had said "I am Veronica" when I asked her, "Do you like California?" I learned an important lesson with Veronica: I realized that some patrons were special, and should never be touched; they were given to the library to be mysterious figures who walked through the doors and were never meant to be known; people who were meant to be recounted through the ages in breakrooms as legends and myths of the library.
Dispatch 14 (12/20/04)
Reflections on the TNT Original Movie The Librarian: Quest for the Spear Starring That Guy From ER
When the ALA sends out an e-mail request to librarians to share their thoughts on a movie, you know it's a big deal. I'm not a film critic, so I'm not going to get in your face Ebert-and-Roeper-style; instead, I'll opt to explain this movie from a librarian's POV:
First off, let me say that there was one thing this movie hit dead on—what librarians do. The ER guy's actual job description is "the librarian." Throughout the movie, all he does is wander around a basement full of mythological artifacts. But why does the librarian do what he does? Is he supposed to be running around the world trying to protect these artifacts? His job is never really explained, and it's here that there is a similarity between the movie librarian and the real librarian. Do you really know what a real librarian does? I mean do you really think we sit around and order books for eight hours a day? Think about it.
Second, the ER guy received a mysterious magical card asking him to interview for the job of librarian. A lot of people probably were wondering about this, so let me explain. This is not the normal procedure for interviewing as a librarian. Usually one finds out about librarian jobs through Internet sites such as lisjobs.com, e-mails, librarian message boards, or the classified section in the newspaper. If you want to be a librarian, don't sit around waiting to receive the magical letter—it's just not going to happen that way.
Third, the movie presented a popular cinematic librarian motif: nerdy librarian gets the beautiful girl. Guys, I cannot stress this enough: Don't enter the library field expecting to get beautiful women. It may happen, but it's probably not going to, because remember, you're a librarian. There just aren't a lot of librarian groupies out there—not beautiful ones, anyway.
Fourth, there was a line in the movie that went something like this:
MALE: That's the librarian?
FEMALE:
Don't underestimate him.
While the movie had several false moments, this was not one of them. Don't ever mess with a librarian—we will kill you, grind up your body, then create a cannibalism edition of Harry Potter that other librarians will use to teach literacy to flesh-eating tribes in Papua New Guinea. I'm not kidding about this.
Fifth, about 30 seconds into the film, I started wondering whatever happened to that girl who liked the ER guy in the second season—did she ever make any movies? About five minutes into the movie, I started thinking about Dr. Green—sure was sad how they had to kill him off, but at least it was tasteful (not like the way he died inTop Gun). About 10 minutes into the movie, I started making up movies that the ER guy could do with George Clooney—I think they'd do good together, and it would probably help the ER guy's career (enough that I might actually start to remember what his name is). About 11 minutes into the movie, I realized I really hadn't been paying very much attention to the movie, and I promised myself I would try harder.
Finally, in the movie, Bob Newhart can magically appear at a moment's notice. Few people know this (mostly just librarians), but he actually can magically appear at a moment's notice. I can't explain how he does this.
Dispatch 15 (2/15/05)
Corny Library Pickup Lines, and How Librarians Effectively Shoot Them Down
Pardon me, could you please tell me
what kind of card I need to check you out?
Visa, MasterCard, or
American Express.
You must have been burning books,
because you're looking hot.
My apologizes—the new Harry
Potter is coming out and I was in the back burning the Newbery
winners to make room for it.
Can you tell me where I can find books
on overcoming a deeply passionate love I have for a librarian?
636.45
MICH.
Libraries should allow food in the
building, because right now I could just eat you up.
Policy
is policy, but if you'd really like to change that, the appropriate
forms are behind you—just drop it in the suggestion box when
you're done, and in due time it will be pulled out and set in the
loser pile.
I know what I need to access the
Internet, but what do I need to access your heart?
A
life.
What book would you recommend to help
me sweep you off your feet?
How to Divorce a Jealous Mad
Person.
Can you tell me how to spell love? I'm
writing a letter to you.
Do you mean the agape love, or
the love you have for someone you don't have a chance of ever
getting?
Can you settle a bet? My friend says
librarians have no life, but I say they're wild beasts. Can I take
you out to dinner and prove my friend wrong?
Tell your friend
he's right.
Dispatch 16 (4/8/05)
Jeffica
Giving nicknames to problem patrons is one way to provide humor on the job. It also establishes handy covertlike code-names for people should problems persist. I have nicknamed many patrons over the years—the Red-Faced Man, Mumbles, the Mole, and Potty Mouth, just to name a few. Recently, I developed a new nickname for a patron: Jeffica. Jeffica has a long history with the library. About four years ago, there was a patron named Jeff. He fit perfectly into the she-male category of the human species (which is the category for a person whose appearance could easily be passed off as either male or female; it was made popular by SNL's "It's Pat" skit). Jeff would come to the library two or three times a week and spend hours at a table poring over books. He was usually quiet but would occasionally harass librarians over things like having only one book of poetry by John Donne. Then one day he stopped coming. I didn't realize it immediately; it was several weeks until somebody said, "Say, I haven't see that one guy in a while." After a brief discussion on who "that one guy" was, I realized it was Jeff, and indeed it had been a while. I didn't see Jeff for four years, but last week he started coming in again. There are some patrons you never forget—Jeff is one of them. He had the same routine: he would pore over books for hours at a time, and at one point he complained to me that we didn't have a single book by Ben Jonson. Toward the end of the week, he applied for a new library card because his old one had expired due to lack of use. I was surprised when I read the application—under "Name" he wrote "Jessica." It was odd; he had the chest of Jeff, the voice of Jeff, even the same dress shoes that Jeff used to wear. There was no mistaking it: Jeff was now Jessica.
Dispatch 17 (5/16/05)
Lost & Found
Virgin cell phone with a Hello Kitty sticker
Raincoat
Bottle of aspirin (3 extra-strength pills left)
Wallet with Bart Simpson (empty except for a fake driver's license from Disneyland's Autopia)
Toddler sandal (right foot)
Choose Your Battles Wisely
Old-lady patrons add a unique flavor (and smell) to the library. For the most part, they're either warm and fuzzy or bitter and rude. Either way, it's fun to listen to their rambling theories about life, happiness, and why everyone should read Dick Francis. Libraries, however, wouldn't be quite right if there weren't at least one woman who was loud, crude, and sometimes a little drunk. For me there is Ms. Haskell. I can think of several older patrons I get a kick out of, but I knew Ms. Haskell was special the first day I met her; she asked for the dictionary ... on audiotape. Not an abridged version, or a "500 Power Words Everyone Should Know"—not even a collegiate dictionary would do. She had it all scribbled out on a stained napkin, which she proudly dangled in front of my eyes: "OED Dictionary on audiotape." When I said no, we did not have that, she said, "Well, compact disc will have to do then." That was my first encounter with her, and all the encounters that followed were also about audiotapes. One night, she came in loudly and spent 10 minutes at the circulation desk telling a helpless library clerk what she thought of each of the seven audio books she was returning. When the clerk explained that the library was closed and she would have to leave, she turned toward the audio books to make that night's selection. I saw where she was going and intercepted her. "The library is closed, Ms. Haskell—you'll have to come back tomorrow." She kept on coming, and said, "Out of my way, honey." She then shoved me out of her way. "I'll be just a second," she said. I think I was more surprised by her strength than the fact that she pushed me. "Did she just push you?" a page quietly asked. "I think she did," I admitted. "Dude, what are you going to do?" I didn't reply. I stared at Ms. Haskell, who had made her selection. "See, honey, that didn't take but a second." I could have forced her to come back and check out the next day, but she would have argued that idea longer than I cared to listen. In a public place like a library, you have to choose your battles wisely. Plus, I was kind of afraid she might push me again and I'd have to fill out an incident report saying a 70-year-old woman physically assaulted me.
Dispatch 18 (6/28/05)
Adventures in MySpace
There's a stereotype about librarian jobs that goes something along the lines of "all librarians ever do is sit around all day and wait for someone to ask for a book." This is simply not the case. For starters, most people don't even know how to read anymore, and the few that do don't come to the library—they're obviously smart, and therefore well off financially, and therefore go to Amazon.com to buy books, which they in turn donate to the library, which the library sells at a book sale, from which proceeds go to buy new computers.
Second of all, librarians do plenty: they buy books, form committees to decide what sort of committees the library needs, type up minutes for those committee meetings, complain about how people can't read anymore and only use the library for free Internet access, burn books to make room for the new Harry Potter (which I'm pretty sure most kids only check out for the illustrations), and if all that isn't enough, librarians also take breaks and lunches. Now occasionally librarians sit behind a desk bored out their minds (but hiding it well), but never for more than seven hours a day. Which brings me to MySpace.com.
MySpace was started a few years back in the proud tradition of other social-networking sites like Friendster.com. My library is full of high-school kids who think MySpace is the greatest thing since Razor scooters—if you're on MySpace, then I'm sure you've run into one or two of them. What does this have to do with my previous point? Well, I'll tell you if you just pipe down. I started a MySpace account recently in an effort to cure my boredom while sitting at the reference desk waiting for someone to ask me where a book was. I figured if high-school kids had so much fun on it, then why couldn't I? Plus, it's my duty as a librarian to be informed about what people are doing at the library.
The first time I logged in to MySpace, I saw a picture of guys kissing, a friend whose profile said she was gay, which was news to me (at least now I know why she never would go out with me, which is better than that "I don't like to leave my cats alone" excuse), and an overweight girl with her legs ... actually I'd really rather not go into what she was doing with her legs—it was actually pretty frightening. I saw many other disturbing things, but I honestly can't say I saw anything very interesting, and yet I stayed for a full hour reading profiles of people that I, for the most part, had never met. I discovered in myself a voyeuristic fetish I never knew I had.
If you are a bored librarian like me, or just a bored person in general, then perhaps we can be friends; my user page is www.myspace.com/scottdouglas. If my profile says that I'm online, then perhaps that even means I'm at work waiting for someone to ask for a book. And if you have an odd or funny library story, or just like libraries, then join groups.myspace.com/librarylovers.
Dispatch 19 (9/6/05)
Advice to Future Librarians Entering Graduate School
Fall is here, which means a new batch of young wannabe librarians will be starting graduate school in just a few days. If you happen to be starting library school, then this dispatch is for you.
Avoid cataloging classes; they will be pointless.
In papers that you write, cite papers your professors have published.
Take an internship or practicum.
Ninety percent of what your teachers teach you is theory that does you no good in the workplace; do your best to forget it after you leave school.
Ask your teacher why a public library uses the Dewey cataloging system as opposed to LOC, then doodle for the next three hours while they explain it.
Buy a laptop and play FreeCell during lectures.
Join ALA. It will make you feel important.
Libraries don't do, librarians do.
Take online classes and have the cheap thrill of going to classes in the buff.
Two weeks working in a library will give you more experience than two years in graduate school.
Gain as much computer knowledge as humanly possible—this will put you ahead of so many other librarians.
Letters to the editor do not count as professional publications and will not impress the instructor.
I am sorry to say that you may find your stay in graduate school to be not very stimulating and quite a yawn, but the job that follows is quite the contrary.
If you ever want to vent your frustrations or need moral support, then by all means e-mail me.
Dispatch 20 (11/3/05)
I think the first clue that the man was going to be a problem was when he said to me, "I want to know who took my generator—was it you?" This was actually the first thing he said to me. It wasn't just what he said or even the hostile way that he said it that made me know that this was going to be one of the conversations they didn't teach you how to handle in library school—it was everything about him. The way he moved, or rather fidgeted, told me right away that he had had the sort of breakfast that destroys brain cells.
I had never seen the man, but I knew right away who he was. The previous night we'd discovered that some people had been stashing their belongings behind the air-conditioning unit in back of the library. A polite note was left saying that if they didn't remove the items, the library would have to remove them for them. It was nothing personal—for liability reasons, people just can't do this.
I checked the back of the library to make sure everything was gone—it was—so I figured the problem had been solved.
It hadn't.
"It isn't right—that generator cost me 300 bucks, and someone is going to pay."
I apologized to the man and explained, "The library can't be responsible for belongings left behind."
The man became more agitated. "Then you know—you know where it was hidden. It was you. You took my generator."
I shook my head no and explained, "I saw it last night, and know a note was left for its owner to remove it from the property."
The man's eyes got bigger. He crossed his arms and nodded a bit psychotically, "I know your kind—don't think I don't. You think just because you have a job you can take from me." He paused and continued in a threatening way, "You're either going to give me back my generator or pay me. Otherwise, I'll call the police."
Even if the man had not appeared to be on drugs, I think I still would have been a little nervous—he wasn't bigger than me, but his appearance suggested the sort of man who liked to keep a knife in his pocket. Still, I did my best to hide any fear, and calmly explained, "Sir, I assure you that I did not take your generator. Maybe you should call the police and report it as stolen." I knew that he wouldn't call them, but I could always hope.
"Oh, don't think that I won't." He paused, then asked, insanely curious, "Where is your car parked?"
Plenty of patrons had asked me strange things, but this was the first who asked me where my car was parked. It was almost comical to look at the man, because he actually thought I was going to tell him. I struggled to come up with a reply, but the best I could muster was, "That's personal." What I meant to say was, "Sir, the fact that I work in a public library doesn't make me stupid, it just makes me poor. There's no way I'm going to tell you—a psychotic person who could very well have a knife in his pocket—where I have parked my car."
The man stood straighter, and actually, in his straightness, began to look even crazier. "It's in the parking lot, isn't it?"
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