Once The Librarian, Always The Librarian

I am a small village librarian, and I also live in the small village where I work, which means that, to many of the locals, I’m simply “The Librarian”.

A regular patron comes in one morning, furious about having received a late notice. He is adamant that he returned his magazine. Mistakes happen, so I go to check the shelf, as well as any other possible place it could have ended up.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but we can’t find this anywhere. How about I just renew the loan for you, so you can double-check at home and we can double-check here?”

Patron: “No! I know I returned it to you! I got the reminder message two days ago, and I walked over and returned it as soon as I got it!”

Then, I have a small epiphany. [Patron] lives a few houses down from me. Postal service in the past few years has been a joke, and I don’t rely on it any more than I have to. Post is delivered three times a week at best, so unless I’m waiting for a delivery, I only check my mailbox once a week.

Me: “[Patron], did you leave this in my private mailbox?”

Patron: “Of course I did! Why should I have to walk all the way here just to return a magazine?”

I went home and checked my mail, and yes, the magazine was there. [Patron] was told to use the library’s overnight return slot in the future.