The Driving Insane

Already this week:

Caught the graffitti vandals in the men's restroom
I was addressed by a patron as "Big Mama"
I was kissed by a regular (yikes)
Was notified that there was an orange-ish bodily substance all over the walls, floor, and toilet in the men's restroom (the maintenance guy cleaned that one up, bless his heart)
Was notified that someone had puked up rice on the carpet (how do you clean vomit off of carpet?)

Some other weird stuff has happened that I can't remember at the moment. I just want to go home.

In the first hour we have been visited by:
Dracula
Thomas the Tank Engine
Giraffe and Lion twin girls
A Hippie
Tiny black cat
a very large preschool class of cartoon characters
a homeless lady --oh wait, not a costume
Snow White
pink fairy
preschool pirate
um...Mr. Clean?? (Kid with normal clothes, whiney attitude and blue latex cleaning gloves)
Small purple dinosaur
Napoleon Dynamite (minus the fro)
Spider Man
a developmentally challenged pimp/jazz musician (I couldn't tell)

I have also been kissed by one of the regulars who comes with his special class. I didn't see that coming. Yikes.

Until today, I thought paper cutters were self explanatory.

This lady was making copies for about an hour. I think she went through almost a full ream of paper. About every five minutes she would get some setting screwed up on the copier and I would have to go fix it. At one point her copies started coming out on 8.5X14 instead of 8.5X11. I told her she could cut the excess off the bottom instead of reprinting them all, and I directed her to the paper cutter. She went and looked at it and then came back to tell me she didn't know how to use it.

How is that possible? I thought maybe she just wanted me to do it for her, but she actually came and watched me while I did it.

Large young male patron calls me over to his computer. He seems somewhat angry.

Him: How do you get this to work?
[Since he is currently using word and has a paragraph already typed, I am not sure what his question is.]
Me: What do you need to do?
Him: Type
Me: Well it looks like that is what you are doing already.
Him: How do you make it work?
Me: I'm not sure I understand what you are trying to do.
Him: May I touch your face?

whoa. wha...huh? NO!

But what if I had said yes?

Trying to help an old lady with the computer (while breathing through my mouth because of the stench)

Me: Type your library card number in that box.
Her: That number?
Me: Yes.
Her: That big long number?
Me: Yes.
Her: Right now?
Me: Yes, right now.
[Eventually she gets mostly logged in, then the internet usage agreement screen pops up.]
Me: click "agree".
Her: What am I agreeing to?
Me: That you will not use the internet inappropriately.
Her: Like what?
Me: Like looking at porn.
Her: [agast] No one would do that would they???
Me: Well, we hope not. [yeah, right.]
Her: What does 'use at your own risk' mean? I might see something I don't want to see?
Me: I guess.

She sits there and reads the entire thing while I wait.
After I helped her get on the page she wanted, I decided that would be a good time to take my break.

An elderly lady brought a piece of junk mail to the desk. It was the kind that is disguised to look like airmail and it said something about an African country on the front, but there was US postage and a US return address on the back. The poor little lady was all disturbed because she didn't know anyone in that country and why would they send her a letter? (It was unopened. I wondered if she thought it had anthrax in it or something.)

I explained the concept of junk mail to her as best I could. She seemed to understand and walked away looking relieved.

A young man smelling of super-condensed cigarette smoke asked if there was a bus that went from this town to the neighboring town. He informed me that he just got out of jail and they took his car. He had to be at work at Safeway in four hours to decorate cakes.

"What will people do if I am not there to decorate their cakes?"
I told him they would probably have crappy birthdays, so I attempted to help him find a bus that would get him where he needed to be.

As he was leaving he thanked me for my help and confused me with his parting words "I won't kill you."

Hmm. I wasn't actually worried about it till you said something.

Lady: Do you have any books on music supervisors?
Me: [doing a keyword search] Can you tell me what you mean by "music supervisor"?
Her: You know. It's like your job only it's the person who picks out music for movies.

Oh! I see. It's exactly like my job...only not at all.