Unfiltered Story #95742

, | Unfiltered | October 1, 2017

(Granted, southern people tend to blur words together or pronounce them differently, but this one takes the cake. It was busy at this time at the library, we just finished our story hour we have every week for preschoolers, so there’s a ton of people at the desk waiting to be checked out. A grandmother comes up to my desk to check out books for her grandson.)

Grandmother: *sweetly* “Do I have anything else out?”

Me: “Just one called ‘The Son’ by Philipp Meyer.”

Grandmother: *suddenly irate* “I’ve never checked that out!”

Me: *I go through the spill about her double checking at home to make sure she really doesn’t have it there and I could check upstairs on the book shelf for it and call her later since we are so busy.*

Grandmother: “Go check. NOW.”

Me: *irritated because there are lines of people and she’s being so rude. But I know she probably left it at home, most patrons claiming they never had a book out and the ones who usually truly have it. While upstairs, I overhear a coworker ask her if she is being helped. She says yes in a snippy tone, pointing upstairs to me but asks for the name of the book again.*

Coworker: “It’s ‘The Son’ by Philipp Meyer.”

Grandmother: “How’s it spelled?”

Coworker: “M-e-y-”

Grandmother: “No, the TITLE.”

Coworker: “S-o-n.”

Grandmother: “Oh! I thought she meant ‘The Sun’ kinda like the one in the sky. Oh yeah, I still have that at home by the bed.”

(With that, she left. I wondered how different I said “son” from “sun” seeing as we’re both from the same Deep South town.)