Our library has a security system with motion detectors that we set every night as we lock up the building. Like most security systems, you always set it hoping it never goes off… but early one morning, the day after a large party was held in one of our big meeting rooms, my boss gets a phone call from the police, saying they got an alert that the security system has gone off and they need to search the building.

The boss goes and unlocks the building, and watches the officer do a walk-through of the building with his gun drawn, getting more and more nervous the whole time. When the walk-through of the building is complete and they’ve found nothing, she starts to fret even more. She wonders out loud if someone attending the party hid in the library and is still hiding somewhere.

At which point the officer gives her a look and says, “Party? Balloons?”

As it turns out, the decorations for the party are still up, to be cleaned up by the opening shift… and among said decorations are balloons. When the furnace kicked on in the wee hours of the morning, the balloons were blown about by the warm air, setting off the motion detectors. Red-faced, my boss thanks the officer and sends him on his way.

We haven’t had balloons in the library since.

(The programs department at our library likes to have us employees “test” new activities before they put them in place for the general public. One morning before we open, they hand out Nerf guns and declare that we’ll be having a “Nerf War.” Soon, every employee is running around, hiding behind bookshelves, and cackling like mad as they fire foam projectiles at each other. In the midst of all this, the phone rings, and I hold up a sheet of white copy paper as a “flag of truce” while I run to the phone and pick it up.)

Me: “Community Library. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Speaker: “Hi, this is [Administrator]’s husband. Can I talk to her?”

Me: “Of course.” *winces as someone shrieks in the background* “Can you hold, please?”

(I run back out under my makeshift “flag of truce,” and tell the administrator her husband is on the phone. She shifts her Nerf gun to one hand and grabs the phone with the other.)

Administrator: “Hello? Hey, hun… No, I haven’t had a chance; I’ve been in meetings all morning. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.” *hangs up*

Me: *eyes her Nerf gun* “Meetings all morning, huh?”

Administrator: “Yup. *runs out to re-join the Nerf war*

(Whoever said librarians are a boring lot has never actually worked with them.)

(I’m making brownies, and my three-year-old little brother is helping. I measure the ingredients and he pours them in. For this particular recipe, you mix the cocoa, baking soda, oil, and water together before adding sugar.)

Brother: “It looks yummy! I’m gonna taste it!”

Me: “Don’t taste it yet. There’s no sugar in it. It’ll taste gross.”

Brother: “Nuh-uh! It’s chocolate; it’ll be yummy!”

(And to prove me wrong, he dips his finger in the incomplete batter and takes a big lick of it.)

Brother: “See, [My Name]? It’s yum—” *face slowly crumples in a grimace of disgust* “Ick!”

Me: *laughs* “Go get a drink of water, and then come back and help me add sugar.”

(I let him lick the bowl after we’d finished to help him forget the taste of sugarless cocoa. Sometimes a kid just has to learn things through experience, I suppose.)

(I’m the misbehaving employee in this story. I tend to be a bit snarky and sarcastic, but I can usually “turn it off” at work. Today, I’m shelving DVDs when a woman pulls a DVD off the shelf, loses her grip on it, and drops it on the floor. The snark just pops out before I can stop it.)

Me: *cheerfully* “You can just set that down anywhere, ma’am.”

Patron: *laughs*

Me: “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. That just popped out of my mouth.”

Patron: “It’s okay! It was funny!”

Me: “Thanks. Sorry, I speak sarcasm as a second language.”

Patron: “We should get you a t-shirt that says that.”

(Thanks for being a good sport about it, lady.)

(It is 6:30 in the morning. I’m sweeping the aisles when I run into a coworker being berated by a rather unfriendly-looking customer. I go over to help.)

Me: “Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?”

Customer: “Hopefully. This girl doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing.”

Me: *smiling, trying not to freak out* “What can I help you find today?”

(She pulls out an ad from her purse and points.)

Customer: “I’m looking for this box of tissues.”

(My coworker had found the aisle with tissues on it, and correctly pointed to the right box, a 90-count tissue box from a generic brand. I show the customer that these are the tissues she’s looking for, the same ones shown in the ad. The customer then gets furious with both of us.)

Customer: “I want to speak to someone who knows what they’re doing!”

(Our manager isn’t in that early, so I just get a checker with higher authority. I bring her over to the customer, and again the customer points to our ad.)

Customer: “I’m looking for this!” *angrily jabs finger at picture in ad* “This box of tissues! Is that too much to ask for?!”

(The checker then calmly looks at the ad and shows the customer the box count, and shows the box selection of tissues to the customer that is on sale. The customer then starts freaking out, yelling at all three of us, and saying how terrible we are at our jobs. At this point she’s screaming and saying she “wants this box, and this COLOR, because it matches her decor.” All three of us have an “ah-ha” moment, so to speak. She wants these tissues, but also the color in the ad, which is, as most of us know, out of our control.)

Checker: “Yes, that is too much to ask for.” *smiles, then walks away*

(The customer, beyond furious by now, leaves her cart and screams as she walks away.)

Customer: “I’m never shopping here again!”

(All that, over tissues. Needless to say, I saw that same customer about a month later.)