Many moons ago, when I was a newly minted librarian, I found myself in a publishing job where I was responsible for creating indexes for various works. I did this for eight years, supervising a small staff, tweaking techniques, and so on.

Indexing was still a niche business, but many libraries suddenly wanted their various historical and newspaper collections indexed and were hiring.

My state library had one such position. My resume was received with enthusiasm, and my first interview was with the head of the library. He finished our review with:

Library Head: “You will fit in well. Your next interview will be with the reference staff next week.”

So, the next week, I used one of my precious vacation days to return. The reference staff greeted me like an old friend and presented me with bagels and tea, and that was how we interviewed — over tea. One of the questions was about my cooking ability, as they had many parties. Once again, the interview ended with:

Staff: “Well, we have one other applicant, but, seriously, we are sure you are the best match. Once you get here, we’ll help you look for housing.”

I left, excited about the prospects. When I got home, there was a letter waiting for me, telling me they were going with another candidate. Yes, they mailed my rejection out before they even interviewed me.

It turned out there was an internal candidate who already HAD the job, but they were required to interview outsiders anyway.

A year later, the same job was posted again. Still in my twenties and naive, I reapplied. This time, my interview was again with the head librarian, with whom I’d had other interactions over the year. THIS time, he couldn’t remember that we even knew each other and there was no call back.

At least I didn’t use up as much vacation time. And I suspect I dodged a bullet.

I work in a library. There are big push buttons in the elevator numbered 1, 2, and 3. A patron took the elevator up to the second floor from the first and then approached my colleague.

Patron: “Is this the second floor?”

My colleague had suffered a whole spate of fools that day. He probably should not have said this to the patron, but I understood his mood when he did.

Colleague: “Oh, I am sorry, no. This is the third floor. They removed the second floor and sent it out for cleaning.”

The patron nodded seriously and then said:

Patron: “Well, when will it be back?”

I worry about people.

I’m a school librarian. Each class visits me once a week. When class is done, I instruct them how to line up.

Me: “When Mr. [My Name] calls your number, go to the door. One, two, three…”

Student: “Four, five, six!”

Me: “Let me count, please. Four, five, six…”

Student: “Seven, eight, nine!”

Me: “Please stop counting; that’s my job. Seven, eight, nine…”

Student: “Ten, eleven, twelve!”

Me: “How many times do I have to tell you, [Student]? You don’t count! You don’t count!”

I looked up to see his teacher standing in the door, looking concerned.

I used to work in a library. In the pre-Internet days, I would often be called upon by parents hoping to get their children ahead of required reading at school.

Patron: “My daughter is doing a Shakespeare this semester. You know, the ‘double bubble, toilet trouble’ one.”

Me: “You mean ‘double, double toil and trouble’? That’s Macbeth.”

Patron: “No, it’s ‘toilet trouble’.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure it’s ‘double, double toil and trouble’, but anyway, if it’s Macbeth they’re reading, then I can show you our copies.”

I took them over to our Shakespeare section, and they grabbed the complete works instead of just “Macbeth”.

Patron: “I’ll get all of them just in case you’re wrong about it being Macbeth. You don’t even know the words to the song.”

I just nodded and helped them loan out their book. I then told my manager about the interaction during our break.

Manager: “Well, I can understand. Every time I’m cleaning my toilet, I’m saying, ‘Out, d***ed spot! Out, I say!'”

A mother with two children comes into my library. The girl is six and the boy is maybe three. The girl hands over the form we distribute to the nearby schools for children to take home to their parents.

Girl: “I’d like a library card, please.”

Me: “Are you getting your own card today? Congratulations! That’s the best thing you will ever have.”

Mom: “It really is. I still remember when I got my first one; it was the best day of my life.”

The girl is understandably excited, and we chat a bit while I enter her details into the system and prepare her card. Meanwhile, the little boy suddenly gets a look of intense concentration on his face. A moment later, a certain smell starts to spread.

Boy: *Proudly* “I pooped!”

Me: “Yeah, buddy, you sure did.”

Mom: “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to tell me when you need to poop, remember?”

Me: *To the girl* “Do you want to know which question I get asked the most? Listen very carefully now.”

Mom: *Sighs* “Where is your public bathroom?” 

The mother took the boy to the bathroom while I finished up with the little girl, and she ran off to find books. I love children.