Restrooms: Do We Need Them?

A couple weeks ago one of my coworkers popped back into the staff area to tell us a patron had complained that two men were having sex in our one-person men's restroom, and he wanted her to do something about it. She thought it was a problem best referred to her supervisor.

We got a good giggle over this, as the guy who made the complaint spends most of his time in the library looking for guy-guy "casual encounters" online.


Coworker: "He said there are two men in the bathroom, they've been in there for a long time, and he thinks they're having sex. I listened at the door but didn't hear anything. What should I do?"

Supervisor: "I bet he's jealous! I'll come out in 15 minutes, and if the door is still locked, I'll knock and ask if anyone needs help. That should be plenty of time for a blowjob."

Coworker: "I don't even know why he's so sure there's anything going on in there. He didn't actually see two men enter!"

Me: "I guess if anyone would know about casual sex in public bathrooms, it would be him."


So after the 15 minutes had passed, the supervisor checked the bathroom and found it empty and clean, with no evidence of any sort of sexual activity, drug activity (which we thought was more likely), or any other wrongdoing. Kind of a let-down, actually.

Supervisor: "If there was any sex, they cleaned up after themselves. At least they were considerate about it."

Then early this week, the same patron who made the complaint about the alleged bathroom sex came up to me and asked that we put up a sign in the men's room telling people to limit their use to 10 minutes or less, because he thinks people (mostly teenagers) are in there too long. It's apparently too much trouble for him to take the elevator up a level and use the other men's restroom.

Of course, the young man who vomited all over that bathroom yesterday wouldn't have had time to clean it up had we implemented a 10-minute time limit. So I'm inclined to let people use the restroom for however long they desire, as long as I don't have to clean it up.

Can't It Be December Forever?

I've already started dreading January. Why, you ask? Because that's when all of the people who reached their yearly ILL request limit can start making requests again! Woohoo!

The most annoying of these asked me why he couldn't start making his 2009 requests in December. It wouldn't have been so bad if he had asked on December 30th or even the 29th or 28th or sometime after Christmas at least, but he asked on December 2nd.

December 2nd! An entire month early! No way, buddy. But I guess it's time to start the office betting pool for how long it takes him to burn through his requests for 2009. The head of circulation won the 2008 bet. Can she do it two years in a row?

Too Many Tears

We have a new director who's managing to piss everyone off. Staff meetings now involve tears and questions about why we don't put up a Christmas tree (yet somehow the scarecrow our gardener put outside the library is wrong because it promotes Halloween). Everyone is confused and irritated, and who wants a director who gathers everyone together for a meeting, taking them away from work that needs doing, then cries because she feels so misunderstood?

I made a patron cry today when I gave her the unfortunate news that no study rooms were available at the time and it would be a 45-minute wait. We're apparently not allowing her to educate herself. She stormed off when I gently suggested she reserve a room in advance so she's sure to have one when she needs it...

Thanks for Telling Me?

I got the weirdest phone call the other day (okay, not the weirdest I've ever gotten, but still pretty strange).

The guy wants to know the definition of a narcissist. He says someone told him it means someone who thinks world events happen because of him. So I look it up in our dictionary (ooo, print source!) and read off the definition. It points to "egoist" too, so I read that definition as well. This seems to satisfy the guy and I think the conversation is over, but then he tells me he's a veteran who goes to the local VA hospital. His psychologist there told him something...and then he says he probably shouldn't say anything because he doesn't want to step on my toes. Well, okay, so he thanks me and hangs up.

Two hours later he calls back and asks if I was the one who gave him the definition of a narcissist. He tells me he doesn't want to step on my toes, but...and then he launches into a lengthy, circuitous speech in which he basically says his psychologist told him that Jesus was a narcissist. He never actually said it, never named Jesus, just skirted around it, but it was pretty obvious what he was trying to say. He didn't want to say it outright, because he knows people have their beliefs and that's okay, and he really doesn't want to step on my toes. That was all he wanted, and he thanked me again and hung up.

Where's the Recycling Bin?

He burned through his yearly allotment of 50 interlibrary loan requests months ago. He complained about that. A lot. You know, maybe I'd feel bad about it if he needed books or articles for research of some sort, but I just can't bring myself to care when all he's doing is ripping CDs onto his computer.

Soon after he submitted his 50th ILL request, he started filling out our "Suggestions for Purchase" forms. At first, he would submit 5-10 requests every couple weeks. Only days after submitting a request, he would start to complain that we hadn't purchased the CDs yet. We told him we place an AV order once a month, then it takes time to get the items shipped to the library and listed in the catalog.

This apparently didn't register, as he started to submit the same requests in multiple manners: via paper forms, dropped into the suggestion box; via paper forms, handed to staff at the reference desk; via paper forms, handed to staff at the youth services desk; via our online comments form; via the library's main email address; and via several staff members' personal email addresses. Did he think we wouldn't know they were all his requests? Just how many of our patrons does he think want the complete Cheap Trick catalog?

It eventually got so ridiculous that we were getting requests for the same CD up to 4 times a week. The kicker? Half of these CDs weren't even out yet. And we're not getting them fast enough? C'mon, Disturbed, get that CD out faster, man! It's for the library! Right.

So we told him to stop. Completely. And he did.

For approximately two weeks. Then we started getting requests for the exact same CDs, in various poor attempts at disguised handwriting. Are we supposed to be that dumb? Really?

So we told him to stop. Again. And he told us it's a free country so he's going to submit as many requests as he wants. Well, gosh, he sure showed us.

So now he's mailing his requests to the library, with someone else's name written in the return address spot on the envelope. If he keeps up with this, he's probably going to waste enough money on stamps to buy several of these CDs he so desperately wants.

And I don't feel bad about that at all.

Lovely Patrons

This week's fun included but was not limited to:

He started yelling at me, waving printouts in my face, totally out of the blue. What was he upset about? He bought something online with his debit card. He had an email receipt for said purchase. His bank claims the transaction never took place. Somehow that's the library's problem because he used our computers to make his purchase. Then because we wouldn't fix it for him, for the rest of the day he refused to speak with us and just stood at the desk waving his arms around angrily whenever he wanted something.

She told me she needed me to do her homework for her. Why? Because she's partially deaf, has a learning disability, has had several strokes, cannot use a computer, and works 50-60 hours/week. It doesn't help that her assignment states that she should go to the public library for help accessing course materials online.

He's been a regular for years. He comes to the library every day at opening and leaves at closing. He photocopies numerous newspaper articles and prints out gazillions of weather and climate maps. He's friendly and polite and always pays for his printouts. It's weird that he spends so much time here, but we've never had any problems with him. Until this week when he started making sexual comments to another patron and showing her sexually explicit cartoons.

But my husband's got me beat for loveliest customer of the week (he owns a small specialty shop several blocks away from the library):

They call him "The Genius" because he's told them the professors at Big State University say he is one. He's got very long hair, which he wraps around his head like a ball of yarn and sticks a baseball cap on top of to keep it in place. He says Stalin's daughter used to live in this city. Her name is Stalina. She was causing all of the crime in the neighborhood she lived in by using her psychic powers on people. The Genius told the police this, but they didn't believe him. They only started listening to him after he saved the police chief's life. But Stalina moved out of the city and now lives in a neighboring county. She's still using her psychic powers, but now she's causing car crashes. She can no longer cause crime here because the KGB is located in Expensive City Neighborhood, and they also have psychic powers, which cancel out Stalina's now that she lives outside of the city.

It's hard to believe The Genius isn't a known library patron!

From Last Friday

A patron told me they should make a slapstick romantic comedy starring Brett Favre and Hillary Clinton.

Wha???

It's On, Are You?

Nice Lady: Can you help me get this? [holds up a piece of paper with a Web address on it]

Me: You want to look at that website?

NL: It's for a class.

Me: Okay, well you can choose any open computer and I can help you get to that website if you would like.

NL: Okay. [finds a computer and sits down] Do you have any paper? I want to write down what you tell me.

Me: Good idea. Let me go find some. [people's inability to print just the pages they want assures that we have a constant supply of scratch paper]

NL: This is for a class. What do I do?

Me: You get started by clicking on the Internet browser button. [points to it on the screen]

NL: Click on it?

Me: Yes, with the mouse. [points to the mouse]

NL: Let me write that down. [writes very, very slowly] This is for a class.

Me: Okay, you click on that gray box with the globe on it, the Internet browser button, with the mouse. [demonstrates moving the mouse]

NL: Don't I have to turn the computer on first?

Me: Errrr, it's already on...

Do You Want Some Lettuce?

I broke my normal rule of "don't accept food from patrons" today. The guy had a bag of organic, home-grown lettuce, and he needed to get rid of it before it went bad. Apparently his garden overfloweth with produce.

And then he told me he's seen me before, and that I must have been working here for 10 years or so (try 4). Although it does kind of feel like 10 sometimes...

I didn't tell him that I'm going to feed the lettuce to my pet guinea pigs.

Little Things This Week

Someone at the circ desk sent her down to the ref desk to ask if the library's security gates would damage her digital camera if she brought it in, because "the person down there is a computer expert." Thanks, circ desk!

He thinks he should get a longer loan period on his ILL (5 weeks minimum!) because he's a doctor and pays lots of taxes and has to drive 3 hours to get here, and he makes sure the whole library hears him yelling at the circ clerk and then at me. I Google him and find out he's a retired professor of finance.

She's demanding to talk to my coworker, who is not scheduled to be on desk today, because she needs his help with burning a CD. I tell her she'll have to wait until he's on desk next, which will be tomorrow, and offer her my help instead, but she declines because she's sure I wouldn't know how to help her. I don't feel bad about her having to wait until tomorrow to burn her CD.

Someone at the youth services desk sent a kid down for a book. I find it for her, but it's a Simpsons philosophy compilation and she wants Simpsons comics, so she's very disappointed and says coming downstairs was "a complete waste of time." Thanks, youth services desk!

He wants my help obtaining a Russian bride over the Internet. He's got one all picked out, but he can't figure out how to pay for her.

She wants local addresses for national airlines. She has been looking for a job for a long time and finally found the perfect one. On the other side of the country. It will be financially difficult for her to go there for an interview. So her plan is to write letters to the airlines asking for free or reduced airfare. She thinks a local office will be more likely to listen to her pleas. She's planning on writing hotels too, since she can't afford that either.

He's complaining about getting leg cramps from sitting at our computers too long. He has been here for hours. He says if he's having this problem at age 30, he doesn't want to know what age 40 will bring. Then he asks how late we're open and is happy to know he can stay for 3 more hours.

(In related news, someone slipped a comment into our suggestion box complaining that there are people who are here too much, sometimes even all day. The director noted that you wouldn't know who's here all day if you're not here all day too.)

You Drove Here?

A woman approaches the reference desk...

Woman: I was told you could help me. [usually not a good sign, that statement is, and her speech is slurred to boot--also not good]

Me: Okay, what do you need help with?

Woman: I need my credit report. They said you could get it for me. [oh, "they" did, did they?]

Me: We certainly have computers you can use to request your credit report online if--


Woman: I already tried to do it on the computer, at home, but it didn't work! [she's starting to get loud] They said you could just give it to me!

Me: The library doesn't have access to your credit report, but you're welcome to apply for your credit report on our computers. What didn't work when you tried at home?

Woman: It wanted a postal code! I didn't know what that was! So I called the post office and they didn't know either! They told me to come to the library because you would know and be able to give me my credit report! [thanks a lot, post office]

Me: Well, I think a postal code is just your zip code--

Woman: I tried that! I tried the long one and the short one and neither worked! I just want my credit report and I don't understand why it has to be this hard! It's just a credit report! [she's leaning heavily on the reference desk, and I'm hoping she doesn't fall over] And I tried to call the credit thing, but their number is disconnected!

I manage to get her onto a computer to fill out the free credit report request form. I can't smell alcohol on her, but I'm starting to wonder what's in the opaque water bottle she's clutching.

About 45 minutes pass, and she's standing at the printer...

Woman: What's wrong with this thing? It's not doing it!

Me: It's not printing? Hmm, there's nothing in the queue and it's not out of paper. Let's take a look at your computer.

Woman: I filled it out twice!

I'm able to figure out that she filled out most of the form, but never scrolled down to finish filling out the form and click to continue on to the next page. Unfortunately, she clicked on something else that took her away from the form and erased everything she already entered. She has done this twice. I suggest filling out the paper form and mailing it in, but she decides to try online again.

At the shift change, I tell my replacement that the woman's on her third attempt to request her credit report online. I had gone ahead and printed out the paper form, and I suggest that he try to convince her to take it home and mail it in if she's unsuccessful again with the computer.

I get back from dinner...

Me: So did that woman ever get her credit report?

Replacement: No, she lost the whole thing again. She was completely sloshed!

Me: My impression too. Did she take the paper form?

Replacement: Yeah, she filled it out at the desk, but then she handed it back to me.

Me: She seemed to think we actually keep them here or something.

Replacement: I told her she would have to mail it herself. I thought she was going to get belligerent, but she left, mumbling to herself, fumbling with her car keys, which she dropped on the stairs on her way out.

When No Other Candy Bar Will Do

The library's plumbing got clogged yesterday, specifically a pump for the four lower level restrooms, which caused some sort of emergency alarm to go off (ensuring that the director and the police were automatically called in). After some investigation, it was discovered that the reason for the clog was Snickers wrappers, which had apparently been flushed down one (or more) of the toilets. How many Snickers wrappers? Eight.

This is the second time this same pump has been clogged up with Snickers wrappers.

It's Always the Same Men's Restroom

About a week ago, our director discovered a mess in one of our men's restrooms. He said it was not just a few sprinkles on the seat due to poor aim. Someone hit the seat and left a huge puddle between the toilet and the sink. Apparently it looked intentional, but I'm not an expert on male pee patterns.

Four days later, our director discovered another mess in the same restroom. He said it was exactly the same as the previous mess as far as placement and volume, and now he's certain it's intentional. Unfortunately, we can't think of a good way to catch our serial pisser, other than checking the restroom after each use.

I tried to cheer up our director by saying, "At least it's not exploding bowels again." He is retiring in two months and replied, "Oh, that is by far the worst memory I'll have from this job." When our director helped clean up the latter of the two bowel explosions (both in the same men's restroom as the more recent serial pissing), he had to go home to change his pants afterwards due to splashage. Worst memory indeed.

Lost and Found

The other night a patron reported that someone stole his bread. No, he wasn't using "bread" as slang for cash; he actually managed to lose a brand-new, bagged loaf of bread in the library. We never found it.

We did, however, find an unopened, still chilled, 1 lb package of ground beef in the computer lab at closing time awhile back.

Only 10 Minutes into the Morning

Girl standing by printer: Printing comes out here right?

Me: Yes, it does. Did you print something?

Girl: Yeah, but it's not doing anything.

Me: [Goes over to check.] Hmm, there's nothing in the queue. Is it still up on your computer? You could try printing it again.

Girl: I already deleted it.

Me: Ah, well, unfortunately it doesn't look like it's going to print. Was it a web page? Maybe we could bring it up again?

Girl: I don't remember what it was.

You don't remember what you printed just a minute ago, but it was important enough to print? This is why we waste so much paper here.

A few minutes later...

Man standing by printer: This is the printer, right?

Me: Yes, it is.

Man: I don't think it's working.

Me: [Goes over to check.] I don't see anything in the queue. Let's try again. Do you still have it up on your computer?

Man: Yes, I'm at this computer over here. [THANK DEWEY!]

Me: Let's see...you click on this Print button, and that should do it.

Man: Ohhhhh, I didn't click on that button.

Got Beaver?

What is with the people who don't stick around long enough for you to answer their question? I'm sorry, but when you ask me for a complete list of all possible color names in the world, it's not something I can reach under the desk and whip out for you. Walking away less than a minute after I say "let me see what I can find," and then not answering when I try to call you back, really isn't going to help you much, is it? Why even bother asking? Just to burn calories? What's the freakin' point?

The up side to this is that I had started a search on color names and now know that Crayola has a color called "beaver," which was introduced in 1998 and is "dependable" and "dislikes showiness," being a brown hue and all. I never knew Crayola colors have personalities! I've gotta hit the basement and dig up my crayons to see if I've got a dependable beaver.

"Fuzzy wuzzy brown" is another Crayola color: "This is the crayon that I like to use when I color anything brown. It makes me all warm and fuzzy wuzzy--like Christmas." Brown, just like Christmas!

I swear this made my day, which tells you a little bit about how pathetic my life is.

Emergency!

While I was at the reference desk this morning, I answered a call from the partner of one of my coworkers. She told me she had been trying to call my coworker for 20 minutes, but her direct line was busy. She asked me to go to my coworker's office and tell her to hang up and call her partner's cell phone because it's really important. Well, okay. I can't make her to hang up, but I can pass on the message. So I wrote it down, walked back to my coworker's office, and handed the message to her with a shrug to indicate that I hadn't been told what exactly was so time-sensitive. She promptly called her partner and settled the very important matter that required immediate attention: which salad dressing to buy.

My head hurts.

There Are No Stupid Questions

"Will you be closed tomorrow because it's snowing a lot today?"

"The roads were really bad on my way here. They haven't plowed yet. Why are you open?"

"I'm supposed to attach my resume, but I don't have one. What should I do?"

"What do you put in to send an email to heaven?"

...And It Gets Worse

The stinky patron who confessed his feelings for me via email sent me a second email, even more disturbing than the first. Most of it made no sense, which is never, ever a good sign, but it's clear that he wants to have a sexual relationship with me ("stripped naked") and doesn't care if he gets in trouble for saying so ("make it public"). The rest is pretty much gibberish.

My director, being the fantastic director that he is (how dare he retire this summer!), emailed him a response, telling him the emails he had sent me were inappropriate and any further emails would be forwarded to the police. Dewey willing, that will put an end to this and he will never email me or enter the library again.

Thinking about how often I am the only staff member on my level of the library and how many times it's been just the two of us there when he's slow gathering his stuff together at closing...

Oh Dear Dewey, No!

A patron I have previously complained about due to his stinkiness and annoying-ness has declared his love for me via email.

Let me back up. I went off to Vegas to get married a couple weeks ago. Prior to my leaving for my spectacular, superfun Elvis wedding, said patron came into the library nearly every day. I have not seen him since I've been back, just over a week now. I did find it odd, but awfully pleasant and stench-free. And then today I get this email, this totally disturbing and unwelcome confession, in which I am apparently Batgirl and he's Robin. He attached a comic of them kissing, and titled his email "Comic Book Heroine."

I'm so disturbed.

Poor Campaign Technique

Hey, I voted for Obama. I like him. I support him. But I really don't want to be peeling his stickers off of my books! What gives? What is wrong with you that you think you should be going through the library stacks and placing impossible-to-remove-without-chemicals-and-a-razor-blade "Obama '08" stickers over our spine labels? Go stick flyers in people's doors or something!

You Know It's a Good Day When the Cops Show Up

We had a domestic disturbance in the library yesterday. It started in the computer lab, then moved to the lobby, where the wife/girlfriend/whatever decided to call the police. I thought that was mighty nice of her. It saved us the hassle. I didn't get to witness the fight, but I've been told it included a great deal of swearing and threats. I guess the fact that the guy was holding their daughter prevented it from getting physical, although I wouldn't put it past this couple. They have quite the history of disrupting the peace and quiet (*snicker*) of our facility. Awhile ago, the guy threatened to complain about me to the director when his article about Marilyn Manson got cut off when printed, never mind that I wasn't anywhere near his computer or the printer when said travesty occurred.

According to the police officer, the fight started when the guy wanted to go home, but his wife/girlfriend/whatever wanted to stay and play on the computers, doing mission critical work on her MySpace page. Somehow that escalated into threats of bodily harm. I think they were meant for each other. It's too bad Cops has never been filmed here, because you know how much I enjoy seeing my patrons outside of the library.

Surprise!

So today I taught a computer class on word processing to a group of five. It's a class that involves the "fun" stuff, like pretty borders and columns and clip art. We were doing an exercise to practice inserting a saved picture into a document, which was going just fine until the computers displayed the contents of the My Pictures folder, which is set to show thumbnails.

"There are some explicit photos here," said one of the five, a very sweet older lady and big supporter of the library. Well, crap. Sure enough, all but one of my students' computers were loaded with porn. Joy. The nice Russian man remarked on how it was good that we were all adults. Indeed. The crazy lady in the corner complained that all she had on her computer was pictures of sunsets. Crap.

I've seen patrons in tears because they found porn on the computer they were using and it was so traumatic for them. I apologized to my class, profusely, and everyone was able to laugh about it, but...oh dear Dewey...

What is perhaps even more surprising is that this is the first time it's happened, and I've been teaching the class for a couple years now.

Ah, Another Lovely Sunday

Yes, you did put quite a few decorative horizontal lines into your document, sir, but I have explained to you several different methods of removal and you, instead of performing the steps that I have laid out so nicely for you, are clicking in random sections of your document and pressing the Backspace key. Yes, I see how that erases parts of the story you were writing instead of the decorative horizontal lines. That just might have something to do with your apparent inability to listen to and follow very simple instructions. My dog can't even learn "sit" and I'd bet he could remove your decorative horizontal lines.

And no, I'm not just going to do it for you after you throw your mouse at me. Most of the other librarians here would not have been able to help you at all, given their lack of word processing skills. You, sir, have just squandered your good fortune in being here while I'm on duty. You will just have to live with your decorative horizontal lines and come to terms with their presence in your document.

More Libraries Own These Albums on Vinyl than on CD

Please please please please please don't tell me about how you ripped the CD I ordered from another state for you onto your computer. And about how you returned it yesterday and you asked upstairs and they said it had already been shipped back. And about how you listened to the ripped tracks today. And about how it skips. And about how you need the CD again to recopy it. Because I just paid for postage back. And you've requested 44 other CDs so far this year, only 15 days in, from libraries in other states, and I'm dying inside a little each time I have to request an '80s hair metal CD from out-of-state for you to copy and, as you so proudly put it, "build [your] music collection."