I’m paraplegic and use a wheelchair. I’m a graduate student but still use the library as a quiet place to study, as the guy I currently share an apartment with is rather… loud.

I notice two male undergraduates looking at me from behind the book stacks. They’re whispering to each other. I hear mention that I’m disabled. I’m used to such juvenile behavior, having experienced it for most of my life, but I still expect better from f****** college students.

I pick up some of their conversation.

Student #1: “You should ask him. What are you, chicken?”

Student #2: “No! He’ll get mad!”

Student #1: “Just go ask him! I dare ya!”

Student #2: “Fine!”

[Student #2] approaches me.

Student #2: “Can I, um, ask you a question?”

Me: *Annoyed* “Is it about my wheelchair?”

Student #2: “Not really. I just noticed the rainbow flag on your backpack, and you’re kinda cute. Do you want to get a beer with me tomorrow?”

I realize that he’s just really shy.

Me: “Sure, how about at [Popular Campus Bar]?”

[Student #2] went back to his friend and got a high-five.

I met with [Student #2] at the bar. He almost chickened out, but [Student #1] forced him to go. [Student #2] and I eventually got married.

This story is part of our Even-More-Highest-Voted-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

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It’s an election year in Sweden. For the previous elections, the library where I work has been an early voting station. Due to an increase in early voters, the station has outgrown the library space. The new early voting station is in the same building as the library, right next door to us. There are numerous signs and arrows and election workers in bright vests present to show the way. Still…

Someone walks up to my library information desk.

Patron: “Hi, I’m here to vote.”

Me: “Early voting is next door this year. Just follow the signs outside or ask someone wearing a vest and they will help you.”

Patron: “But I’ve always voted in the library before.”

Me: “We don’t have enough space anymore. Go next door and they will help you.”

Patron: “Are you sure? Last election, I came here to vote.”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure. Turn around, go out the door, and turn left. You will find the early voting station right next to us.”

The person looks doubtful but eventually leaves. The next person in line steps up to the counter.

Next Patron: “Hi, I want to vote.”

This is going to be a loooong three weeks.

As a student, I worked at my local library part-time over vacations and holidays. One of the library regulars took to following me around, cornering me alone, and asking for my name and number. My coworkers knew and took measures to ensure that I was rarely out in the stacks by myself, but the supervisor refused to intervene.

On my first day back after the semester ended, the regular found me and left a detailed and obscene note on my book cart. I walked back to the supervisor’s office to quietly throw it away and try and compose myself.

Coworker #1: “Have you met the new supervisor yet?” *Pauses* “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’m fine. That guy saw me, and he left this disgusting note on my cart.”

New Supervisor: “Wait, what?”

Me: “It’s nothing. There’s just this regular who likes to… watch me work. I’ve been ignoring him, but he doesn’t stop.”

Coworker #1: “He follows her around the shelves if he sees her and tries to get personal information.”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, we do our best to keep an eye on her. He’s never written a note before.”

New Supervisor: “Let me see that.”

She took the note from me and read it, and there was pure rage on her face.

New Supervisor: “How dare he? How dare he treat one of the librarians like this? I can’t believe no one has done something. Did [Previous Supervisor] know?”

Me: “I told him when this started last year—”

New Supervisor: “LAST YEAR?”

Me: “Um, yeah, last year, and he said that I should ignore him, he wasn’t really doing anything, and I just shouldn’t encourage him.”

New Supervisor: “Can you point him out to me?”

We walked out into the stacks together, and the regular popped out from one aisle, grinning. He clearly expected me to be alone and scuttled back down the aisle when he saw [New Supervisor].

New Supervisor: “Is that him?”

Me: “Yes.”

New Supervisor: “I will take care of this, and he will never bother you again. You’re working in and around the office today.”

I never saw that regular again. He was banned from the library, and [New Supervisor] had me write up an account — with my coworkers’ testimonials and support — of his harassment to present to the Board Of Directors. After they read it, he was banned from every library in the county. I went on to work at the library for several more years, loving my job and fully confident that [New Supervisor] had my back.

This story is part of our Even-More-Highest-Voted-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

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One of the public libraries where my canine partner, Baldur, serves as a reading therapy dog is temporarily shutting down some of their programs due to major remodeling. The area where the kids read to us is going to be one of the rooms affected. We are saying goodbye to the librarian after our last session.

Me: “Just let me know when you are able to start the reading program again. We’ll be happy to return.”

Librarian: “Oh, definitely. We really want to see Baldur here again!”

After an unflattering pause…

Librarian: “And you, too, of course!”

Related:
It’s Not Baldur’s Fault He Has No Thumbs!
Swoop And Squat And SCURRY AWAY!

I’m an author. At a poorly-attending book signing at a local library, an older gentleman comes to my table and proceeds to tell me his life story. I try to be attentive, but when he starts reciting his grandson’s bowling scores, I’ve had enough.

I text my teenage daughter, who wandered off when he started talking.

Man: “And then he bowled an eighty-three, his highest score yet. But the next game, he only bowled a fifty-two.”

Me: *Texting* “Come save me.”

Daughter: *Texting* “How?”

Me: *Texting* “Say you need help getting something out of the car.”

My daughter comes to the table.

Daughter: “I need to get something out of the car.”

She takes my keys and leaves.

Daughter: *Texting* “Wait. How will that help you?”

Me: *Texting* “It won’t.”

Man: “But the next game he bowled a ninety! Then, the game after that…”