I am a librarian in a large public library in a town with a lot of problems. Public services are difficult to access, there is a lot of poverty, and there are issues with drug problems and crime.

We get our fair share of enraged, violent, or just bizarre people in our library, but we also get a lot of people who want us to give them services we can’t provide, such as legal advice.

Part of my training when I took the job was on what we are and aren’t legally able to do in these situations. I got pretty good at handling this and at defusing the tempers of the people involved.

I am tending the reference desk by myself one afternoon, not long after the schools have finished for the day, when an already-angry woman comes in, dragging her seven- or eight-year-old daughter by the arm. She pulls the kid over to my desk, pushes her into the chair, points at her, and says:

Woman: “Acid reflux! Now!”

Then, she folds her arms and stares at me. Unfortunately, I am accustomed to being asked for information in such a manner, so I turn to my computer to start looking it up in the catalogue.

Me: “We have books on acid reflux specifically or broader books with sections on—”

Woman: “I don’t want a book! I want you to tell me when it stops!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “My daughter has acid reflux, and I want you to tell me when it’ll stop! Hurry up, we need to get the bus!”

Me: “Well, you’d need to see a doctor for that. They could refer you to a specialist if—”

Woman: “I already went to the doctor, you idiot!”

Me: “…”

Woman: “That’s how I know what’s wrong with her. But the bloody doctor said he didn’t know how long it’d take to go away, so you’re going to look it up on the Internet! Now!”

While she’s been speaking, I’ve already looked up “acid reflux” on the web, as I didn’t know what exactly it was. Straight away, I get a National Health Service page that I quickly see says that it’s difficult to predict how long the symptoms are going to last.

Me: “I don’t have the medical training to tell you anything more about your daughter’s condition than your doctor can, but I’m looking at the NHS website and—”

Woman: “Her name’s [Daughter]. What does it say about her?”

Me: “It doesn’t say anything about her. It’s not a list of patient information; it’s just a site of advice about the condition.”

Woman: “The Internet tells you everything! You’re as stupid as that f****** doctor! Tell me what the Internet says about my daughter! It must know!”

By this point, she is fully screaming at me, spittle flying, and bright red in the face, and our one security guard is heading towards my desk.

Me: *Trying to placate her* “Ma’am, did your doctor give you any advice?”

Woman: “He told me her home life was too f****** stressful! What could stress her? She’s f****** seven!”

I immediately looked at the girl, and she was huddled up in the chair looking utterly miserable. I felt so sorry for her. Before I could say anything else, my manager and the security guard made up their minds about what to do and escorted the woman out of the library, the daughter trailing along behind them.

Not a very satisfying story in itself, but about a week later, a couple of police officers came to meet with my manager, accompanied by a woman I recognised as a social worker. They were given some of our CCTV footage, asked me a couple of questions about the woman, and left, so hopefully, things got better for the daughter.

Printing out pictures for people is a common enough reference question at the library, but this was a new one.

Customer: “I need a picture of Khan.”

Me: “Khan… Genghis? Noonien Singh? Shah Rukh?”

Customer: “Genghis, obviously!”

Me: “There are some reference paintings in—”

Customer: “No, I need a photograph.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can print you an artist’s interpretation of what Genghis Khan looked like, but a photograph is just not available.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “Because he lived and died before the camera was ever invented.”

Customer: *Tuts* “That is very inconvenient!“

Me: “…sorry?”

I was working in a library, and a homeless guy came in.

Guy: “Can I please use the public computers?”

He needed them for something that would change his circumstances — something like printing a bus ticket, maybe, but I can’t remember now.

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Guy: “I don’t have one.”

I broke the rules and gave him a temporary code anyway.

He came back the next day and approached my boss.

Guy: “Can I use the public computers, please? I need it for [task].”

Boss: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Guy: “I don’t have one.”

Boss: “Then I’m sorry, but no, I can’t let you use the computers.”

That guy pointed straight at me.

Guy: “But she let me yesterday.”

I nearly got fired, and that is why I NEVER break or even bend rules for customers.

Our library is closed for extensive reconstruction.

I spot one of our patrons just vaguely walking INTO our construction site and straight up to one of the workers, who is literally in the middle of jackhammering the cement floor. He just starts… handing him his stack of borrowed library books.

Patron: “These books need to be checked back in!”

That poor construction worker was very confused.

I work in a daycare attached to a library and gym complex (it’s a big building). I am relatively new and don’t really know my manager yet. She’s stern but fair, so I respect her. A mother comes in and drops off her toddler.

Mother: “I’m going to need him to be kept active and busy while I am gone. I prefer him to be fatigued when we’re at home.”

Me: “O…kay? We have plenty of activities that can keep him entertained such as—”

Mother: “No, you’re not listening. I need him kept active! Like you have to actively wear him down. You seem new so I don’t blame your ignorance—ah! There’s the manager. You! Over here!”

She actually points at my manager and yells for her to come hither. My manager slowly walks forward with the weary gait of someone who knows what’s coming.

Manager: *Strained.* “Mrs. [Mother’s Name], how lovely to see you again.”

Mother: “I need [Child’s Name] to be worn out when I return. What will you do to accommodate me?”

Manager: “Well, [Child’s Name] is four, right? We have a small playground that—”

Mother: “I saw that, not good enough. It’s just some swings and a slide. What will you do to ensure my child is kept active?”

Manager: “This is a daycare, ma’am, not an activity center. If you want some sporting activities then—”

Mother: “—you’re not listening! What will you do to accommodate me… today!”

Manager: “Well, we could try tossing him into the river and see how quickly he can swim back.”

Mother: “What?!”

Manager: *To me.* “What do you think, [My Name]? How strong is your throw?”

Mother: “Stop being so preposterous before I report you to—”

Manager: “The librarians are always moaning about rodents of unusual size* scurrying about the air vents. [Child’s Name] looks small enough to enter the vents and take them out for us. Just give him a torch and a pen-knife and he’ll be good to go.”

Mother: “That’s it! I will be reporting you to your boss unless you start taking me seriously!”

Manager: “Okay fine, we’ll just pit [Child] against the other kids in gladiatorial combat. The librarians like to place bets on the victor and the winnings we get make up for the s***ty customers like you.”

With that, the mother released a desperate shrill of a noise before storming off to the building’s management office. I am staring at my manager in awe.

Manager: “That was Mrs. [Mother’s Name] and she runs the club of mean mommies that have made my job miserable for the last year. I’m quitting today… good luck!”

My manager really did quit that day (well, two weeks’ notice), before any complaints could be bought down on her. One of the building managers took over managing the daycare while they trained one of the other workers, and they got to experience this mother and her friends firsthand. Their response was “now I know why [Manager] quit” and after multiple complaints from literally every other employee who had to deal with these mothers, they were banned!

*Yes, this is from “The Princess Bride”.