I work in a library that’s in an area known to be quite conservative. On more than one occasion, we’ve had patrons demand we ban or censor certain books that will ‘groom’ their children.

A woman storms up to the front desk with a book in one hand.

Patron: “This was in the children’s section! This is why I come to check the books before letting my granddaughter read anything!”

She slams down a book that’s part of a fantasy series for teens.

Me: “A thousand apologies! This should have been in the teen section.”

Patron: “No! It shouldn’t be in any section! It’s completely inappropriate!”

Me: “It’s considered appropriate for readers aged eleven and above.”

Patron: “I got five pages in, and it already mentions witches and spells, and magical creatures. Children shouldn’t be reading this!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, but lots of young readers enjoy this book series, and many more just like it.”

Patron: “Well, this will make children believe in magic!”

Me: “That’s fine. It’s fiction. The kids figured that out. The adults should come around soon.”

My comment seemed to snap her out of her fury, and she simply “hmphed” at me, tossed the book on the counter, and stormed off – probably to find another innocent children’s book to get angry about.

I worked in a shoe repair store that was part of a much larger shoe store back in the 90s. I’m tucked way in the back, in the basement, but I can also work sales and sell new shoes. I’m behind the counter when a customer walks in holding a very worn-out pair of loafers.

Customer: “Hi, I was wondering if these can be, well, brought back to life.”

I examine the shoes.

Me: “Well… the soles are separating, the stitching’s blown out, and the heel’s worn down to the metal. How long have you had them?”

Customer: “About ten years. I walk a lot.”

Me: “They’ve definitely seen some miles.”

Customer: “Be honest, is this fixable?”

Me: “Have you ever read Frankenstein?”

Customer: *Excited.* “I saw the movie! Oh…” *Getting it.* “Oh… wait… oh no.”

Me: “Yeah…”

I helped him pick out a new and hardy pair of shoes ideal for his active walking lifestyle.

Me: “If you want two pairs, we’re doing buy-one-get-one-half-price on this particular brand at the moment.”

Customer: “Could I get one for my wife?”

Me: “Yes! This style comes in women’s sizing, too.”

Customer: “Cool! I’ll get one for her, too!”

His eyes light up.

Customer: “I’ll call them Bride of Frankenstein!”

I gave him a little extra discount for that.

A very tired-looking mom with a cute little girl, maybe three years old, came up to me.

Mom: “Excuse me, do you have any good picture books about how to handle emotions?”

The girl gives me a big smile.

Girl: “I bite people!”

Mom: *Sighs.* “Yes, you do. We were going to learn why you shouldn’t, remember?”

I helped them find some books, and they sat down to read. Hopefully, Little Miss Bitey learned something new.

I love looking through books at the bookstore, even if I can’t always justify buying one. Such was the case when I saw a book on an endcap that caught my eye; the cover jumped out at me, then the title, and the synopsis seemed like it was right up my alley, as it was a fictional take on a historical event that I was keen on at the time. However, I was also a broke college student, so, reluctantly, I had to leave it behind.

Not too long afterwards, I got a gift certificate to said bookstore from my Secret Santa, and the next time we were at the mall, I went in determined to get that book. It was no longer on the endcap by that point, and I realized that I hadn’t even looked at the author’s name. I also realized that, while I could describe the book cover well enough, I could not remember the exact title to save my life.

This was some years ago, but I had, of course, been reading NAR almost from the beginning, so I was absolutely mortified at the thought of being one of those “I can’t remember the title, but it was blue” people. Especially since the cover would have accurately described ninety percent of the Young Adult books (this was, however, not a YA novel by any means). Still, I realized I was never going to find it on my own, and I REALLY wanted it, so, with trepidation, I approached the customer service desk.

Me: “Hi…I really hate to be that person, but I’m looking for a book I saw here a few months ago, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

Clerk: *Looks at me blankly for a moment before the customer service mask goes back on.* “Well, let’s see what we can do. What’s it called?”

Me: “Um, I think it was something like ‘The Things Alice Saw’?”

Clerk: *Begins typing.* “Hmm. I’m not seeing anything with that title. Do you know who wrote it?”

Me: *Cringing.* “I’m sorry, no, I don’t remember. But…” *Sighs* “It was a softcover, um, kind of dark blue, and it had a woman in a gown with her back to the reader…”

Clerk: *Pauses briefly, then keeps typing.* “And it wasn’t Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?”

Me: “No… I’m really sorry.”

Clerk: “Was it Young Adult?”

Me: “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t? It was over with the adult section. But it wasn’t a romance. I think it was a mystery?”

Clerk: *Types for a while, then grimaces and shakes his head.* “I’m not finding anything, I’m sorry.”

I’m about to give up, and then I remember something else.

Me: “I don’t know if this will come up on your search, but there was a subtitle that said ‘A novel of Henry James and Jack the Ripper’?”

Clerk: *Pauses, types for a moment, then suddenly perks up.* “What Alice Knew!”

Me: “YES!”

Clerk: *Pumps his fists in the air.* “YEAH! It’s by Paula Marantz Cohen. We have it in stock. Should be over here. Come on!”

He eagerly takes me over to the appropriate shelf, and there it is! I thank him about a million times and walk away with my prize.

I’ve read that book about thirty times in the last fourteen years. God bless bookstore workers! 

Related:
If You’re Self Aware Enough To Worry About Being THAT Customer, You’re Not THAT Customer, Part 2
If You’re Self Aware Enough To Worry About Being THAT Customer, You’re Not THAT Customer

I worked at the children’s section at a large library, situated in a mall. In Finland, we have this Donald Duck magazine that comes out once a week. I know it’s available in Finnish and Swedish, but unsure of other languages. This happened a few years ago, so I don’t remember how the conversation went exactly. The gist is the same.

A lady (probably in her fifties) comes up to the desk, visibly upset.

Patron: “Where is the latest issue of the Donald Duck magazine?!”

Me: “Which number are you looking for?”

Patron: “The latest one!

I check the system and tell her the number of the latest issue we have.

Patron: “No! The new one has come out already! Why don’t you have it?

I check the publishing date, and it was just a few days prior.

Me: “Sometimes publishing gets delayed and the post can take a while to get here, and when it gets here, someone has to put it into the library system, so it can take a few days.”

Patron: “But it has already been published! Why don’t you have it?!”

Me: “Like I said, maybe the publishing has been delayed, maybe the postal service takes a bit longer this time. I don’t know. All I know is that we haven’t gotten it yet.”

Patron: “But it has been published! You should have it already!”

Me: “I don’t really know what else to tell you. It will probably be available in a few days.”

Patron: “But it has already been published!”

At this point, I really don’t know what to tell this lady, who is old enough to be my mother, about why a magazine is not always available at a library on the publishing date.

Me: “If you’d like, I can give you my manager’s information, and you can contact her to discuss the issue. There’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.”

Patron: “Give me her information!”

I look up the information for my manager, and of course, I can’t immediately find a piece of paper to write it down for her.

Me: “Let me just find a piece of paper to write down her information.”

Patron: “Oh my god! You’re incompetent!”

I find a piece of paper and write down my manager’s contact information, and give it to her.

She storms off. 

I let my manager know that she might be contacted about this, but I don’t know if she ever heard from the woman, or if the woman ever came back to read the latest issue of the magazine.

Like, calm down, lady. It’s just a magazine. What did you want me to do? Write the d*** thing myself?