The Driving Insane

A soccer mom came up with the following request.

"We were in here last week and a librarian found some information for my daughter on the years 1450-1600. We made copies, but now she needs to write down the sources. Can you find it for us?"

Me: "Um, what about those years did you need to know?"

"Oh my daughter is not here. I don't know." (Fortunately she was in the building.) Apparently she was researching Europe during that time.

"The books were green."

Me: "Were they the same size? Like a set?"

"Yes."

Believe it or not we found them. And by "we" I mean "me."

The Conspiracy Theorist called with another impossible question. "I want you to look up the net gross of annual income of all secret societies."

Yeaahhh...I'll get right on that.

Our evening guard just showed up, even more hyped up than usual. We were greeted with his customary two-thumbs-up salute, huge grin, and the comment, "Special honor! I'm so excited I almost fell on my face!"

He says "Special honor!" all the time with no obvious context. So once I asked him, "WHAT is a special honor?"

"You are," he said.

I didn't really know what to make of that, so I don't ask anymore.

Clerk: Do you know who Oscar de la Renta is?
Guard: Yah, he's that famous boxer, right?

A guy asked me for a one-time pass to use the computers. After every sentence he hummed, "doo-di-doo."

"I need a pass doo-di-doo."

"What's your name?"

"Matthew Black doo-di-doo."

I typed "Black, Matt" in the name field because I was lazy and I wasn't actually quite sure what he said. It doesn't make any difference in the function of the temporary number.

For some reason the number I gave him did not work, so I gave him another one. This time I typed "Black, M." He asked if I could put his full name. I told him it doesn't make any difference. He said, "To me it does, sometimes."

Doo-di-doo

A man who communicates with his eyebrows raised and eyes closed walks in and points at the computers.

Since I am a mind reader I answer, "Yes, you can use one."

He sits down an one and a few minutes later comes up to my desk.
"I can't log on. It is on a permanent blue screen."

I point out that there is another available computer if he doesn't want to wait for the other one to be ready to use. No, he doesn't want to use that one.

The computer is frozen so I restart it manually.

A few minutes later he moves to the open computer saying, "I guess I don't have a choice. It's doing it again."

I check the problem computer. It is fine. He has simply turned the monitor off. I turn it back on and return to my desk.

Apparently the other computer "doesn't work" either. He returns to his first choice computer for a another minute before standing up and declaring, "I give up." (If ONLY he would actually give up and leave me alone...)

I look at the error message. It says he has a conflicting booking on another computer.

I show him how to check his bookings on the reservation computer, and tell him which computer is being saved for him.

He logs on to that computer.

After a bit he again claims he gives up. He can't get online. I look at his monitor. He has two Excel windows open. I show him the menu where he must choose the appropriate application.

Oh.

Within four minutes, he has logged off and huffed out of the media room. I suspect he did not know how to get past the homepage (which is set to default to the library's website.)

It's a complicated world.

Well now. That was oddly disturbing. Some weird guy (who I have had weird interactions with before) just came up to the desk and asked me if I was busy. I told him I could help him, and asked what he was looking for. His question: "Is there anything fun to do in this town?" I replied that it depended on what you considered fun. What he had in mind: swing dancing, horseback riding, or rodeos.

I got off my chair to look in our city file and as I did he commented, "Small ring." I didn't think I heard him correctly. What? So he repeated himself. I was taken aback, not because I care what he thinks of my jewelry, but because he would have the audacity to comment negatively (I presume) about it.

I said, "Whatever" and proceeded distractedly to look through the files. He tried to dig himself out of the hole. "Well, my mom's is smaller than that actually. I didn't mean anything by it. blah blah blah." I ignored him. Didn't say anything, at all to help him out of his hole.

Anyway, my coworker walked up and asked if I needed help. I told her this guy was looking for something fun to do, but then I looked up and he was gone. He just walked away without a word. That was disconcerting.

And really. My ring isn't even that small, and it certainly was not cheap (in my opinion, anyway). I actually wanted a smaller one. But even if it was, who cares? And what was his point in mentioning it at all? Was it a very misguided attempt at hitting on me? Or does he need to insult other people to make himself feel important? I think I was more disturbed by him walking off mid-transaction than anything. That was just strange. The other time I talked to him he said some really off the wall stuff. I don't remember exactly what it was. I think is was along the lines of antagonistically questioning every step of the computer log-in process, as if I was intentionally making it difficult for him. What a weirdo.

I just had a library patron invite me to her going away party. Going away where?, you might ask. She is not moving to another town. She is getting a job...at Wendy's. Between her new job and school, she "won't be back to the library, ever." It is because she was able to come to the library and study and "get smart" that she is even able to go to school now.

Bless her heart. Her studying consisted of typing for hours on end on our typewriter. She just typed random letters as fast as she possibly could. It was sad and funny at the same time. It was also so annoying that we made a new rule: only one hour per day on the typewriter.

She thinks my name is Josephine, which amuses me so much I never corrected her. She pretty much calls me that all the time. Once I answered the phone using my real name, and she said, "Where's Josephine? She was just there." I had to explain that I was Josephine and she had been calling me the wrong name. Fortunately she forgot and the next time I saw her, she cheerfully called me Josephine again.

Hopefully I can make it to her going-away party which is set to take place sometime in the next year or two. It will be a finger food event. She said she will probably get some chips and maybe some dip. I should volunteer to bring cookies or something.