I was a librarian at a university. I was standing near the information desk, which is staffed by a student worker, when another student walked by dressed from head to toe in a Spiderman costume. This was nowhere near Halloween.

Student Worker: “Did you see him, too?”

Our library is in an area with a substantial proportion of immigrants, so we have a large selection of media for adults learning Swedish: language courses, grammar books in several languages, easy-to-read books, bilingual books, etc. 

A patron who’s learning the language from scratch and is still very much a beginner comes up and asks for “classics” she needs to read for a language class. I show her our shelf of easy-to-read classics — mostly nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century stuff adapted for beginners — but she shakes her head.

Patron: “No, not easy-read. Teacher say must be original to learn language and Swedish culture.”

She shows me the list of classics that the teacher says are required reading for a beginner’s language course: “The Iliad,” “The Odyssey,” “Don Quixote,” and “The Divine Comedy,” all with “original” underlined. That’s all. I can only assume this teacher Googled “classic literature” and decided that somehow, the best way to learn Swedish culture is by reading about mad Spanish noblemen and Greek gods.

Me: “Are you sure? These are very good, but the language in them…”

She shakes her head in the international sign of “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Patron: “I know. Teacher say we must.”

Me: “Okay. Let me show you where those are.”

Sadly, we didn’t have the original in Ionic Greek, but she picked a 1908 translation of “The Iliad” in hexameter that most Swedes struggle to read, and I asked her to pass on my phone number to the teacher to help out with their next required reading list. I never heard from the teacher, but the patron has been back to borrow books that are more on her language level and her Swedish is improving a lot.

My library has to check every patron’s vaccination status or negative test upon them entering the library. We put a table and chair up at the entrance, but we can’t access the library system from there other than the website and catalog.

There’s a self-checkout machine right next to this makeshift desk and the circulation desk is just a few feet further into the room; you can see it from the entrance.

A lady’s checking out books at the machine and, after getting her receipt, tuts and turns to me.

Patron: “There’s something off about my account. Can you look it up in your computer?”

Me: “I’m afraid that’s not possible with the computer I have, but my coworker at the circulation desk will be happy to help you.”

Patron: *Rolls her eyes* “There’s nobody at the circulation desk.”

I look over at my coworker, who overheard us and is looking at me, nonplussed.

Me: *Pointing* “Uh, yes, my coworker is right there.”

Patron: “No, she isn’t. I just looked.”

Coworker: “I’m right here. How can I help you?”

Patron: “Well, she’s hiding.”

I am at a loss for words. I can see my coworker very clearly from where I’m sitting and the view’s even more straight from where the patron’s standing.

Patron: “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Do you have any hand sanitizer?”

Me: “We do; there’s a bottle at the circulation desk.”

The patron rolled her eyes and left without another word.

I’m working in a library and a young couple comes up to me.

Couple: “We were driving by on our motorcycle and we heard a dog barking in your parking lot. We stopped to investigate and found a dog locked in a car in the sun with the windows barely cracked!”

Mind you, this is summer in Ohio, and we’re well over eighty degrees Fahrenheit. 

I investigate their claim and do find a small, very furry white dog barking its head off in the front of our lot in full sun. I go inside to find the manager on duty, but she’s nowhere to be found. I and all the other staff are very worried about this dog locked in a car.

I begin to discreetly ask around to the patrons currently in the library if they have a dog in their car. I find an old lady who admits to the dog being hers.

Me: “Ma’am, your dog is barking, other people have noticed, and you should probably go check on it.”

Woman: “Thank you. I’m surprised; [Dog] is usually so well behaved while I run errands.” 

She checks out her books and heads to her vehicle.

I watch from a secluded chair in the lobby, making sure she does go to the car and that the dog is still okay the whole time. The dog is fine, thank goodness. 

The manager on duty then reappears and notices me sitting in the lobby. She asks what happened, and I explain.

Manager: “It’s not our business. It doesn’t matter if a dog is trapped in a car or dies in our parking lot. We’re not to tattle to the police.”

I was shocked and contacted my immediate boss. My boss informed me that that’s basically “one opinion of one person in the library” and does not amount to our policies and procedures whatsoever. She also said I handled the situation properly and would not allow the manager on duty to get me into trouble over it.

We get many visits from teachers who bring their students to the library to borrow books. We ask that they call ahead before they come; that way, we can make sure we have enough staff to help them and prevent the place from getting too crowded. Some teachers are very good at this, but a lot of them just show up unannounced with twenty kids in tow during the busiest time of the day.

When the global health crisis hits, we get a lot of restrictions. For a period of time, we’re not allowed to be open to the public at all. The next step is to allow patrons inside but no large groups. Then, we accept groups but only at certain times, and they once again need to make an appointment.

A week or so ago, all restrictions in the country were lifted. We send out information to all the schools and preschools in the area that they still need to call ahead and make an appointment if they want to bring a group of kids, i.e. the same way things were supposed to have worked before the health crisis.

The first Monday we are open without restrictions, I have the opening shift at the information desk. Monday mornings are always crazy busy, but they’re usually manageable for one person. This Monday, however, there is a preschool class and their teacher standing outside the doors when I go to unlock them.

Me: “Good morning. Did you call ahead? You’re not in my calendar.”

Teacher #1: “No, but the restrictions are over. We don’t need to call ahead now, right?”

Me: “Actually, you’ve always had to call in advance. It’s for your sake as much as ours, to make sure you get all the help you need.”

Teacher #1: “Well, we didn’t know that, and the kids have been waiting for this visit for ages. We’ll call next time.”

It’s not a large group and they mostly take care of themselves, but I still get busy helping them find the books they want. A few minutes later, another group arrives. This group has made an appointment in advance and booked a guided tour, so my colleague comes out to meet them and show them around.

Ten minutes later, I hear noise from the entrance, look up, and discover an entire school class of ten-year-olds with their teacher. I go up to greet them the same way I greeted the first group.

Me: “Good morning. Did you call ahead? You’re not in my calendar.”

Teacher #2: “I tried to call, but no one picked up.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t see a note about that. When did you call?”

Teacher #2: “About five minutes ago when we got off the bus. We didn’t get an answer, so we figured it’d be okay. The restrictions are lifted anyway.”

The reason no one picked up five minutes ago is that I had a gaggle of children clinging to me and didn’t reach the phone in time.

Me: “We’ve always asked groups to call ahead and also to wait for confirmation that it’s okay to visit. As you can see, there are already two groups here, so it’s going to be crowded.”

Teacher #2: “Oh, well, we’ve come a long way so we can’t go back now. You need to give us better information in the future.”

The next half-hour is hectic, and everyone is grumpy — the group that did book in advance because they thought they’d get to visit in peace and quiet, and the two groups that just showed up because they aren’t getting help fast enough.

Teacher #2: “You know, if you’re going to have this many people in the children’s area at the same time, you need to have more librarians on duty to help out. We’ve had to wait for ages; it’s very inconvenient.”

Me: *With my very sunniest smile* “Yes, I agree, it’s very inconvenient. We were only expecting one group this morning, but instead, we got three. If only there was a way to prevent situations like this from happening!”