I worked in a rather toxic library with terrible management. I had a coworker who was diagnosed with prosopagnosia (face blindness) during my employment. She wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t recognize anyone — she got to learn all our faces eventually — but she had an extremely difficult time learning the names or even recognizing our regular patrons.

Our boss was the exact opposite. After meeting someone one time, she knew everything about them: their families, where they worked, where they went to school, etc. It really was an amazing memory. But as a result, our boss couldn’t understand why [Coworker] struggled.

About once a month, our boss took my coworker around and introduced (or reintroduced) her to everyone who happened to be in the library at the time. It was during this that [Coworker] was going through appointments to get diagnosed with prosopagnosia, so I forget at which time exactly [Coworker] was formally diagnosed with the condition in relation to all these events.

During these tours, our boss would chat with our regulars. “It’s great to see you again! How is your statistics class?” “Hello, it’s been a while! How are your three kids? How are your two dogs?” “Wow! Look how much taller you’ve gotten over the past year!” Those kinds of things. All the while, my coworker just looked very bewildered as she tried to process a dozen names and faces and life stories all at once. Afterward, my boss would ask [Coworker] about people’s names, and she couldn’t do it. My boss expressed great disappointment in my coworker.

Boss: “So much of our job is community outreach and relationship building! How can you give good customer service if you don’t know anyone’s names?”

Coworker: “I’m polite to everyone and try to help them to the best of my ability.”

Boss: “You need to know our people! Come on, this one is easy. They’re here all the time. What’s his name?”

She pointed to a little toddler boy.

My coworker was just speechless and looked as if she was going to cry. She just shook her head and pointed out that there were THREE blond toddler boys running around our library at that moment and she couldn’t tell any of them apart. To be honest, I couldn’t tell them apart myself, and I’m there more often than [Coworker] and don’t have prosopagnosia. 

My boss sent my coworker into the back where I found her crying five minutes later. She was terrified she was going to get fired, written up, or (most likely) docked in her upcoming employee review because she couldn’t tell faces apart and couldn’t recall the names of people she only meets once a month. I did my best to reassure her and pointed out that [Boss] has an exceptional people-based memory and that not everyone is like that. I could maybe only name a third of the patrons present on that day, after all. 

Of course, this being [Boss], she didn’t let up. Now, it was a well-known fact that [Coworker] was a huge fan of “Steven Universe,” so my boss took [Coworker] aside one day — though not far enough since we all heard the conversation.

Boss: “Listen, [Coworker]. If you can tell apart all the characters in Steven Universe, you can tell apart the children who come into our library.”

Coworker: “It’s not the same! In Steven Universe, they’re all different colors, for one. And second, they all have really different designs. It’s like saying that just because I can tell a cat is not a dog, I should be able to tell one little blond boy apart from another little blond boy.”

Boss: “Think of it this way, [Coworker]. It’s not as if a Steven Universe character is going to walk through our doors. You’re much more likely to meet real people, and you need to put an effort into remembering their names. It’s like you care more about fictional characters than our real patrons.”

Coworker: “That’s not true at all! My brain just literally doesn’t remember them! I try and try and try, and as soon as they look away, my brain tosses out all information related to them.”

She was once again almost in tears.

Boss: “It’s a matter of priorities, [Coworker]. If you can remember Steven Universe, you can remember real people.”

I wound up leaving the library myself shortly after this due to the toxic nature of that boss, among many other things. I never did hear if [Coworker] pursued the issue with the Union or the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission due to what likely qualified as disability discrimination, especially once she got her formal diagnosis. I did a bit of reading on my own about prosopagnosia — enough to know that our boss was being MASSIVELY unfair and unfactual, as the part of the human brain that processes 2D images (like “Steven Universe” would be) is completely different than the part of the brain that processes facial recognition.

I was a fairly unpopular fifth-grader — good academically, bad socially. I somehow got the idea that I could solve my popularity problem with advice from books.

This was pre-Internet, so my book selection was not only limited but difficult to search for. I felt embarrassed looking for books about how to make friends, so my only hope was to find a book at the school library during our weekly visit, check it out, and read it in secret. I searched and searched, and the closest resource I could find was a book called “Male Manners.” I don’t know what I was thinking.

Sure enough, the book turned out to be irrelevant. I don’t remember most of what I read, only that if I was ever eating at a place where I’d finished my meal but wished to keep enjoying a rich sauce, I should gently drop bits of bread into the sauce, then eat them with my fork — not exactly the kind of advice I was looking for.

The next week, when it was time to return the book to the library, I didn’t want anyone to see me with it, so I tried to quickly slide it across the counter of the Returns desk on my way in and then hustle off into the library.

Unfortunately, in my haste to get away from the book, I slid it a little too vigorously, and it slid off the other end of the counter and hit the librarian.

Librarian: “HEY!”

Me: “Oh… uh, sorry.”

Librarian: “Do we throw books?”

Me: “No, sorry, I wasn’t throwing it, I just pushed it too hard… but sorry.”

The librarian looked at the book cover.

Librarian: *Extremely loud* “And it’s a book about manners!”

She showed it to the other librarian.

Librarian: *Still extremely loud* “Look at this! It’s a book about manners! He threw it at me, and it’s a book about manners!”

I wanted to crawl under a desk. Fifth grade is awful.

I attend a bi-weekly Book Club through my local library. It’s a (mostly) great group of people, led by a really funny librarian. In the second week of each month, we discuss the book of our choice, and in the fourth week of the month, we finish any discussions and pick the book for the next month. It’s fun and invigorating, and we all love it.

One month, the book we picked is on the long side, and our second week’s meeting barely scratches the surface. We’re enjoying ourselves so much that we make plans to meet at a local cafe and continue the discussion in the third week of the month. Everyone is able to make it except our leader, who has to work.

Everyone shows up, and things start out great. But then, one member takes over. She quickly veers off the topic of the book and into the shopping she and her sister did. The problem is that all the rest of us are just too darn polite to tell her to stay focused. I make one attempt to bring things back to the plot, and an older guy tries a bit later. But that is it. I know, I know, it’s our own fault we let her monologue for a literal half an hour (I timed it) about mushroom-shaped rocks. Yes, that’s right, mushroom-shaped rocks.

At the end of the time in the cafe, the talkative member goes on about how much fun she had and how, “Next time, she’ll host things at her house.” Everyone really does love the book club, so everyone else agrees to meet at her house during what is presumably the first week of next month. I don’t say anything either way. 1) I’m honestly not sure if my schedule is open during that week and 2) I’m not sure I want to deal with her being a hostess.

That evening, I get a down-right hateful email from her.

Member: “I don’t know WHAT your problem is, but I NEVER did anything to you. So CUT THE CRAP!”

Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Member: “Don’t play dumb, you B****! You kept interrupting me all night, and you didn’t confirm you’ll be coming to my house when I host the discussion! I didn’t do anything to you, and I DON’T DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS!”

Me: “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if I’ll even be able to come. Calm down, please. It’s nothing personal.”

Member: “NO, NO, I REFUSE TO BE CALM! WHAT YOU DID WAS A CRIME AND I’M GOING TO TREAT IT LIKE A CRIME!”

Yes, she actually called it a crime. Realizing there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t fuel the fire, I just forwarded the whole conversation to our leader librarian and ignored her.

The next week rolled around, and it was the fourth week of the month. Everyone showed up at the library to finish our discussion and pick out the new book — everyone except [Member]. We shrugged it off and continued. 

I came home that night to a furious email — one sent to everyone. [Member] was raging about how we all deliberately stood her up and led her on. Apparently, when she said, “I’ll host next time,” she meant during the fourth week of the month, not the first week of the next. Why she thought everyone would agree to that and leave our leader librarian alone, I have no idea. It wasn’t just me, as everyone except her assumed she meant, “Next time, we’re not meeting at the library,” and that we would attend our usually planned meeting at the library.

[Member] never came back. No tears were shed.

A lady has been fined for the late return of her and her kids’ books.

Patron: “I shouldn’t have to pay the fine!”

Me: “Why not, ma’am?”

Patron: “Because my husband is the pastor at the local church!”

I was a grad student doing homework in the library. It’s not uncommon for students to ask other nearby students to keep an eye on their things if they have to briefly step away for things like using the restroom or going to fetch a book. 

As I was working, I noticed a fellow student waving to get my attention, and it sounded like she asked me to watch her laptop for four or five minutes, but I had my headphones in so I didn’t quite catch it.

I removed my headphones.

Me: “Sorry! What was that?”

Student: “I said, can you watch my stuff for forty-five minutes?”

Me: “Did you say forty-five?”

Student: “Yes.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry.”

She sighed in frustration, packed her things, and left. If it had been for a few minutes, I would have agreed, but I didn’t know how much longer I’d be there working, and I didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s computer and bags for such a long time. I left twenty or thirty minutes later and she had not returned.