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There are days when, upon exiting your place of work, you look up into the sky and see the full moon hanging there in the sky, just above the horizon. You stare at the celestial orb, swollen twice its usual size by proximity to the ground, and a short, "Ah," escapes you. "Ah," you say, "A full moon... That explains everything."
These are, by and large, not good days.
So I'm one of the few people willing to work Sunday at the library, meaning I'm there from open to close. Normally I don't mind, but today I was ready to bolt for home before the day was half done, and I still had to stick it out to close.
I don't know how scientifically accurate the story is about full moons bringing out the crazy in people is, but I have plenty of circumstantial evidence from when it hangs over the library. See, as a public library, we are open to everyone, and with the advent of the internet libraries aren't really the place for serious research anymore. In fact, I sometimes believe our main draw is that we're a place with a roof overhead that won't kick people out unless you do something very disruptive. We do get a lot of good people, but we also attract a group I will call the aggressively weird.
This morning I was upstairs manning the computer desk. We have 32 computers that connect to the internet with speed and functionality ranging from fair to poor. My job up there is essentially to try to assist with basic computer questions and ride herd on the patrons.
To explain why this is necessary let me use a metaphor. Say I'm a teacher and little Billy comes up to me during recess when the other children are out on the playground. Little Billy tells me that Tommy from 2 desks forward and 3 desks right keeps fiddling with his pencil and tapping it on his desk and it's distracting Little Billy and he wants me to make it stop. Now I just want to tell Little Billy that, in the grand scheme of things, what Tommy's doing isn't that bad and he should just learn to ignore it and move on. In fact, I want to say, learning to spend an hour or so in the presence of a behavior that annoys you without letting it get to you is excellent training for when you grow up. But you can't tell Little Billy this because you know he'll throw a fucking tantrum if he doesn't get his way, and technically the rules are on his side and you'll get in trouble for not enforcing them, and so after class you call up Tommy and tell him that someone, not naming names, has complained about him and his pencil, so could he please stop. And naturally Tommy turns and glares at Little Billy, because, honestly, Little Billy's a fucking snitch who'll go to the teacher about the smallest of things and it's really obvious who complained and now you hope Tommy doesn't lynch Little Billy after school or something, because that'd look really bad on your record.
Manning the Upper Level Desk feels like that every day. There's always a Little Billy, always, and because these are free computers every kind of person is using them and there's always something to get on your nerves, and I just want to say, "look, you don't like it? Get your own damn computer and mess with it a coffee shop like everyone else, if you don't want to do that learn to put up with less than ideal circumstances, because honestly it isn't gonna change no matter how much you whine." And there has to be someone upstairs because these supposed adults will go from snide comments to an actual fight over the dumbest of things and someone needs to be ready to call security to sort it out.
Today was like that, but more so. The odd people were odder, the unpleasant ones were a bit quicker to be offended, and I just knew that it was gonna be one of those days. In walks this guy who's talking to himself while he heads towards the magazine tables. Talking to yourself isn't that bad on its own. I mean, sure there's probably a mental health issue there, but in my experience people who talk to themselves keep themselves company. As long as they're not screaming and keeping it to a mutter, I don't care. This guy however, bucked the trend. I first realized something was wrong when I heard shouting and a loud thud. I don't know what set him off, but he'd flipped the table he was reading at over and was going on about how he hated this library because everyone gave him trouble including the security guards. That last bit must have reminded him that one would be coming now because he left before the one I radioed could arrive. I'm glad it didn't turn out to be an actual fight, but I hate dealing with this sort of thing and it did not start the day off well.
The day progressed and I moved downstairs to the main checkout desk. It was busy punctuated by odd people, until the nut walks in. The nut walked into the middle of the library and started screaming, "I am Whatsisname Whozzit! I will be executed by the FBI without a legal trial at the end of the month! Remember me! Remember Thatguy Somebody!" A note, I was helping someone so I didn't actually catch his whole rant. All I got was that the FBI or the CIA or somebody was going to execute him at the end of the month, and he wanted people to remember his name, which I didn't catch. He was escorted right out by security within twenty seconds of his first screamed declaration. I'm honestly torn between believing he was an actual nut, or that he was some sort of new marketing campaign for some movie I haven't heard of. You never know what people will do to draw attention. Still more weirdness to a very long day.
Then towards closing a kid walks in. He wants to know if he can use his Little Armenia card at this Library. Sure, I say, if you've got a Little Armenia Library Card it will work here. He pulls out a city volunteer card for the parks department. Sorry, I tell him handing it back, that's not a Library Card, it won't work here. So I start to get him the paperwork for his parents to fill out to make a Library Card, when he starts to pick his teeth with the card I just handed back. And I just internally went, really kid? I just touched that, what else have you been doing with it? And so, after handing him the paperwork, I used about a gallon of Purell Hand Sanitizer to wash my hands.
So, all and all it was a very long day today and the best thing that can be said about it is that it's over.
These are, by and large, not good days.
So I'm one of the few people willing to work Sunday at the library, meaning I'm there from open to close. Normally I don't mind, but today I was ready to bolt for home before the day was half done, and I still had to stick it out to close.
I don't know how scientifically accurate the story is about full moons bringing out the crazy in people is, but I have plenty of circumstantial evidence from when it hangs over the library. See, as a public library, we are open to everyone, and with the advent of the internet libraries aren't really the place for serious research anymore. In fact, I sometimes believe our main draw is that we're a place with a roof overhead that won't kick people out unless you do something very disruptive. We do get a lot of good people, but we also attract a group I will call the aggressively weird.
This morning I was upstairs manning the computer desk. We have 32 computers that connect to the internet with speed and functionality ranging from fair to poor. My job up there is essentially to try to assist with basic computer questions and ride herd on the patrons.
To explain why this is necessary let me use a metaphor. Say I'm a teacher and little Billy comes up to me during recess when the other children are out on the playground. Little Billy tells me that Tommy from 2 desks forward and 3 desks right keeps fiddling with his pencil and tapping it on his desk and it's distracting Little Billy and he wants me to make it stop. Now I just want to tell Little Billy that, in the grand scheme of things, what Tommy's doing isn't that bad and he should just learn to ignore it and move on. In fact, I want to say, learning to spend an hour or so in the presence of a behavior that annoys you without letting it get to you is excellent training for when you grow up. But you can't tell Little Billy this because you know he'll throw a fucking tantrum if he doesn't get his way, and technically the rules are on his side and you'll get in trouble for not enforcing them, and so after class you call up Tommy and tell him that someone, not naming names, has complained about him and his pencil, so could he please stop. And naturally Tommy turns and glares at Little Billy, because, honestly, Little Billy's a fucking snitch who'll go to the teacher about the smallest of things and it's really obvious who complained and now you hope Tommy doesn't lynch Little Billy after school or something, because that'd look really bad on your record.
Manning the Upper Level Desk feels like that every day. There's always a Little Billy, always, and because these are free computers every kind of person is using them and there's always something to get on your nerves, and I just want to say, "look, you don't like it? Get your own damn computer and mess with it a coffee shop like everyone else, if you don't want to do that learn to put up with less than ideal circumstances, because honestly it isn't gonna change no matter how much you whine." And there has to be someone upstairs because these supposed adults will go from snide comments to an actual fight over the dumbest of things and someone needs to be ready to call security to sort it out.
Today was like that, but more so. The odd people were odder, the unpleasant ones were a bit quicker to be offended, and I just knew that it was gonna be one of those days. In walks this guy who's talking to himself while he heads towards the magazine tables. Talking to yourself isn't that bad on its own. I mean, sure there's probably a mental health issue there, but in my experience people who talk to themselves keep themselves company. As long as they're not screaming and keeping it to a mutter, I don't care. This guy however, bucked the trend. I first realized something was wrong when I heard shouting and a loud thud. I don't know what set him off, but he'd flipped the table he was reading at over and was going on about how he hated this library because everyone gave him trouble including the security guards. That last bit must have reminded him that one would be coming now because he left before the one I radioed could arrive. I'm glad it didn't turn out to be an actual fight, but I hate dealing with this sort of thing and it did not start the day off well.
The day progressed and I moved downstairs to the main checkout desk. It was busy punctuated by odd people, until the nut walks in. The nut walked into the middle of the library and started screaming, "I am Whatsisname Whozzit! I will be executed by the FBI without a legal trial at the end of the month! Remember me! Remember Thatguy Somebody!" A note, I was helping someone so I didn't actually catch his whole rant. All I got was that the FBI or the CIA or somebody was going to execute him at the end of the month, and he wanted people to remember his name, which I didn't catch. He was escorted right out by security within twenty seconds of his first screamed declaration. I'm honestly torn between believing he was an actual nut, or that he was some sort of new marketing campaign for some movie I haven't heard of. You never know what people will do to draw attention. Still more weirdness to a very long day.
Then towards closing a kid walks in. He wants to know if he can use his Little Armenia card at this Library. Sure, I say, if you've got a Little Armenia Library Card it will work here. He pulls out a city volunteer card for the parks department. Sorry, I tell him handing it back, that's not a Library Card, it won't work here. So I start to get him the paperwork for his parents to fill out to make a Library Card, when he starts to pick his teeth with the card I just handed back. And I just internally went, really kid? I just touched that, what else have you been doing with it? And so, after handing him the paperwork, I used about a gallon of Purell Hand Sanitizer to wash my hands.
So, all and all it was a very long day today and the best thing that can be said about it is that it's over.
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