post #5

i’m trying to recall the already-happened stories.

once i get a long-distance phone call from a woman looking for a recipe for pumpkin pie biscotti, then gave me the phone number for her mother so i can relay the recipe to her.

and there are always the basic shockers, such as people calling for the number of KFC or the Dillon’s on such and such street. or the woman who called with a list of fifteen different phone numbers with no caller ID’s – she’d like to know if she recognized the folk to be telemarketers or long lost friends.

or the woman in velour sweats with old mascara running down her face, wondering where the self-help section is.

or the pair of women wanting to know about a kidney disease affecting only 3% of victims.

once i babysat an 11-yr-old who could tell me everything you ever needed to know about the world trade center and the 9/11 attack.  he could also tell me everything about the titanic and lusitania, which i’m probably spelling wrong, because he corrected me the first time around (evidently, i haven’t corrected my knowledge yet).  his grandmother set only THREE books for him to borrow, but upon stumbling across the large selection of Twin Towers books, he scooped them all up, as much as he could carry.  “I don’t think you’re grandmother would appreciate that,” I lightly said.  He shrugged.  “Nah, I could just sweet talk her.”  I raised an eyebrow, but he was unphased.  “Once,” he exemplified, “I sweet-talked her into giving me a hundred bucks!”  Indeed, though with brief hesitancy, he was allowed the stack-full.  I rolled my eyes in amusement.

I realized I didn’t actually post this when I first wrote it.

post #4

when i said my goodmorning, everyone else wondered why i was even around – and then realized the schedule had been jambled too much, but yes, i was working.

i used my glasses with older prescription.  bad idea.  i feel blind.

yesterday i went to another branch and picked up a book by Ian McEwan, in curiosity if it would entice me to look deeper into atonement, perhaps read the book or see the movie.  after two pages, i changed my mind and returned the book immediately.  i am saddened it is even on my record.

i see its potential for pure prose-like beauty, but i retrieve myself from curiosity.  perhaps i even read the review wrong (if i remember where i read it, you would see why).  shamefully, i will admit: it was “On Chesil Beach.”  the novella captures the story of two virgins on their honeymoon, apprehensive of “what happens” then.  truly, it has its poetic potential, but i honestly have no personal interest in finding out how they “discover” or not discover each other. i’m not saying i recommend it or not, i’m sure with its recognition, it has its audience.  i, apparently, am not part of that audience.

what had caught my attention, however, is Geraldine Brooks’ People of the Book.  reviews remind me of some “Da Vinci Code” or “National Treasure”-esque feel, although i could be way off track, and am simply enticed by the ideas of the lifetime of objects and the art history in between.  the library does not own any copies, and i should put myself on the waiting list before it shoots up to 200.

as for A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (author of novel-turned-movie The Kite Runner), the painted picture of middle-eastern family tensions have such timeless themes, it would be worth the read.

as for patronage:

a woman called asking if we had any books on what i unfortunately heard as “Brama Bowls” and found numerous crystal bowls that didn’t seen particularly hard to find, until she began describing them as “they have distinguishable humps on their backs.”  “Ahh,” i realized, “Brahma BULLS.”  “Yes,”she replied, “some women collect Precious Moments, and I collect Brahma Bulls.”  so i set on a yellow-sheeted project of finding sites where she could purchase statues of these unique creatures.  it was an interesting search, i must confess, as she minused any ebay find because she could not figure out its procedures.

another woman, possibly around retirement age, came in at the minute i was supposed to leave (and to my advantage had been on the phone with another patron).  she placed a little teddy bear on our countertop and with excitement, pulled out a disposable camera, and requested my two co-workers to stand in the picture.  “isn’t this lovely?” she confidently states, no disagreement sought, “a teddy bear in the library!  my husband thinks i’m crazy!”  and after strangely asking and memorizing my co-workers’ names, she ventures off into section 688 and seeks out books on teddy bears…

i cried with laughter in my wee spirit.

——

“if you do me this favor, i promise i’ll… uh….. send you some chocolate in the mail.  within the month.”
“well, you really don’t–”
“have you heard of J’s secret stash of chocolate?”
(i pause)
“you know, that drawer that…”
(no response)
“that drawer.  that one that hides all the–”
(kind chuckle)
“ehhh… um….. haaaa… well…… you didn’t hear it from me but… okayseriouslyyouhaaaave to checkitoutcauseitssooooooo FULLLLof goodiesand.um.and.um.and.ummm…. i guess that could be your reward..?”

post #3

(for wednesday)

this morning, i broke my glasses. so i brought out my very last pair of contacts and sighed, as what are the definites of me being able to see again (which, i am speaking in faith i will be cured of this bad eyesight). i need to see an optometrist. desperately.

a woman came in to change her voter registration, since between the time she signed up till then, she had a divorce and needed a name change. she was quite forward about it, because it didn’t matter if i remembered what her adopted name was, and her maiden name – neither did her first name make a difference. but there was a name change, and it had to be recognized, by everyone. even the librarians. every one of us who walked by the desk. it saddened me deeply, to see the effects of divorce, to see the animosity between once-lovers. what is the believable solution, to simply not marry and instead, live together? but it evokes a passion and temptation belonging only to a sanctified union… all this ran through my head as i wondered how to kindly approach the recently divorced woman. and i could not help but listen to her golden adornments jangle on the table, and red manicured fingers tap the countertop.

with not much on my hands, i read about the iranian fashion meant for the bourgeoisie. she excellently combines different imported and printed fabrics while keeping religious and cultural tradition, and flattering women without the westernized flaunt of what is beautiful. i applaud designers like hers.

post #2

have you seen those commercials for those pads that you adhere to the bottom of your foot before you fall asleep – to awaken to find a gross glob of toxins absorbed while you slept?

i thought of that the second i stepped onto the floor to work yesterday. it’s been two weeks since i’ve been working, and what happened to be a quiet new year’s eve turned into havoc once i arrived. before even saying hello to the current staff on the floor, a patron called for my attention. it was break before i was able to sit; the day’s end before i could breathe.

with the chaos in full swing, the only thing i can remember is being yelled at by a superior. “Strange,” you may think, “the irony: yelling? library? …how and why?” the situation is unimportant and trite, but the reactions in themselves were notable – as is the fact that i was with a patron on the phone at the same time. Poor woman had no idea why i suddenly yelled “WHAT?”

post #1

friday, december 14, 2007.

i am learning to allow myself mistakes, at least NOW while i am a newbie. otherwise, to make simple mistakes a few months in might say something about my progress. that being said, i smile when i recollect the “oops-es” and “oh-no’s” that friday.

one pronounced example was when an old man called me to get the almanac and tell him when would be the best time this month to plant vegetables below ground. what made it harder than the obvious answer was that he immediately directed me (through the phone, remember) to the december chart – lined with crescent moons and numbers and tides and other familiar icons with unfamiliar definitions. he laughed real good and hearty when i asked if i could put him on hold so i could get a more accurate answer from another librarian. “You ain’t ever read an almanac, have you?” he jeered. well don’t put so much pressure on me, sir, as the local history/genealogy man obviously didn’t understand it either but tried to give me an intelligible response (because he did not have the privilege of working at the library for only six weeks). at least mister man was appreciative when i actually found it for him, and just in case you were curious, if you are planting any time this month, it’ll be best on december 25. that’s right, Christmas.

on a separate note, my boss let me off early. i desperately needed that extra time to study for a comprehensive final. that’s what my brain told me, although my body was begging for sleep…

saturday, december 15, 2007

having had a final, i was one hour late to work, but they knew i would be. it was slow, grueling, and the most exciting moment was a lengthy conversation with a woman about trying to find a “Rock-a-Bye” Collection, Volume 2, which i later found out it is no longer in circulation, and neither amazon, barnes and noble, nor borders have it in stock. it made her very happy to talk about it, though, that i simply had to look it up and listen to it. amazon does have samples, though i’m not completely impressed (but i may have been when it was first released in 1998). in my search for this rock-a-bye cd, i tried a “rockabye” search in our catalog, to find lullabye covers for u2, beatles, bob marley (check out “stir it up”), coldplay (i admit i did enjoy this), led zeppelin, metallica, etc, and had to sample those as well. like any other tribute attempting to cover a mass of popular artists with little effort, there aren’t a lot of prominent outstanding features or musical quality, but that might be excused by the fact that they are “lullabyes.” we could classify these as background music to classes wherein everyone talks over the tunes anyway, and when the next track starts, we all say “oh i like this song!” or “wait, which one is this?” then carry on our conversations. i suppose i would have a greater appreciation for it if i were a young mother wanting to appease mine and my baby’s taste. i am quickly reminded of a man who came in with his two young middle-schoolers, all dressed in some biker, band, black garb (you know, other descriptors beginning with “b”), all looking for pink floyd cds. in the back of my head i clapped with delight, based on the seen relationship between father and son. i make no judgments on choice of genre or what he is advocating (assumptions can be dangerous), but there’s a certain happiness i find seeing bond between fathers and sons. especially when the influence is encouraging, humble, and at the library of all places. yes, i was amused.

but that was my workday. last until i come back from the holiday.

who else besides me?

it sounds like a ridiculous concept, to love one’s job.  it sounds ideal.  or perhaps that’s just me, because i’m naturally an artist, and the first hurdle will be to actually LAND a job before i can come to love it.

i work at a library.  my peers snicker and i revel in the nerdy implications.  i get paid to refer, to do research, to be your un-opinionated source of opinions.

i feel like i have a story every single day, and i wish i had started this blog earlier, because i would have ready for you story upon story of situations one wouldn’t immediately guess that’s what a library is for.

now the trick is to stay unrecognized by my patrons.