Coworker: “There are a load of books that have been put under ‘N’ instead of ‘K,’ because they start with ‘knee’ and ‘knife.’”

Me: “That’s going to be a serious problem.”

Coworker: “We can monitor it and see if it gets worse. We’ve had a few new starters this week, so maybe one of them doesn’t know the system.”

(We did monitor it and the problem only surfaced in the early mornings on weekdays, which was when the new starters worked. We called in the starters and gave them a literacy test. We were originally going to keep the results private and secretly put those with a lack of understanding through training, but it turned out the entire group failed. They all came from the same school, so I can only imagine how bad it was there. We ended up setting up an adult literacy course for them, in the preschool area (the owner’s choice). It was quite a surreal moment walking in to the library and seeing nine early-twenty-year-olds all seated and learning their ABCs. It fixed the problem, though, and many seemed thankful for it.)

(I am a junior in high school. When I return a book I give it to the library’s student aid whose job it is to put the books back and record it on the computer. Years later, the librarian has billed me for the missing book at the end of my senior year. Basically if you don’t pay the fine you don’t get to walk.)

Me: “I gave this book to your student aid last year. Why am I being fined for not returning the book?”

Librarian: “The book isn’t here; you were the last to check it out, therefore you have it.”

Me: “I certainly do not. I gave this book back to your student aid who should have put it back. Go talk to her or look around for it. I told you I turned this in.”

Librarian: “No, you didn’t, otherwise I would have the book.”

Me: “It’s not my fault your student aid didn’t do their job correctly. As I said, I’m not paying this since I turned it in.”

(After the exchange the librarian emailed my homeroom teacher and my guidance counselor who then emailed my parents. My parents were on my side but they told me to pay the stupid fine anyway so I can walk at graduation.)

(I’m manning the reference desk when a young patron, perhaps four years old, comes up to me.)

Kid: “Is your name Anne?”

Me: “No, it’s [My Name]. Why do you ask?”

Kid: “‘Cause mum said to ask the library-Anne.”

(I melted. Footnote: This originally played out in Swedish and with a different name/word (bibliotekarien -> bibliote-Karin), but I made it work in English.)

(My friend and I (he’s bisexual; I’m a biracial black and Asian girl) are high school students walking through our local library’s teen area and looking at the books that are being displayed. There are an extremely diverse (near hilarious) amount of featured reading options and several sticky notes with ridiculous hashtags that are related to the books – i.e., #gayisokay or #girls of color.)

Me: *suddenly giggles* “Aww! Look at them, trying to appeal to our generation!”

Friend: “See, they’ve got the gay books and the girl books and the mental health books—”

Me: “—and the minority author books! I love it!”

Friend: “Cool to see books that aren’t by old dead white men.”

(We are quiet for a second.)

Friend: “Those hashtags are pretty stupid, though.”

Me: “Be quiet. They’re adults and they’re trying to reach us. It’s adorable.”

Friend: “Just saying. Nobody uses hash—”

Me: “Shhhhh. Love the attempts.”

(We’re graduate vocal performance students studying for our oral exams — basically, instead of a thesis on an academic topic, we assemble a committee of faculty members who ask us questions for an hour and a half about anything we might have learned in undergrad and grad school. We are working on pedagogy and it has been several hours by this point. I forget what the preceding question was, something about phonation.)

Friend #1: “Can you give an example of a vibrating object?”

Friend #2: “Sure, a vibrator.”

Friend #1: *with great pride* “Uh, yes, very good. A vibrator does make sound!”