Drawing To A Fine Conclusion

, , , , | Hopeless | October 4, 2018

(Our library is having a celebration to mark us finally paying off the cost of constructing our building. Among other things, we’re holding periodic drawings for prizes, including books, t-shirts, book-bags, and a grand prize of a Kindle and a basket of books. This drawing is advertised on our Facebook page, as well, and results in this rather adorable confusion.)

Boy: *comes up to the front desk* “You guys are doing the drawing today?”

Coworker: “Yes, we are! Did you want to enter?”

Boy: “Yeah.” *pulls out a notebook and starts flipping through the pages* “I have all these drawings I want to enter.”

Coworker: “Drawings…” *realization hits* “Oh, no, it’s not that kind of drawing! It’s where you enter your name on a ticket and we draw out tickets to win prizes. It’s not an art contest.”

Boy: “Oh.” *looks crestfallen and closes the notebook*

Coworker: “But you know what? I want to see your drawings. Show me and tell me about them!”

Boy: “Okay!” *brightens up and opens the notebook*

(My coworker spent several minutes looking at the boy’s drawings and listening to him talk about each one. He seemed perfectly happy to have someone show interest in his work. And even better, he entered the actual drawing and won a book! So, despite the misunderstanding, things worked out well for him.)

Unfiltered Story #122319

, , | Unfiltered | October 4, 2018

I’m working the front desk of a small local library when a somewhat disheveled older women comes in. She ask to become a member of the library and as I’m giving her the application she starts this conversation:

Women: When are you do?
Me: What?
Women: When. are. you. do?
Me: I’m not pregnant ma’ma.
Women: Oh, well you look pregnant…I guess your just chubby.

Needless to say it was very awkward moment while I was putting her information into our system.

All Signs Point Towards A Long Day

, , , , | Right | September 28, 2018

(I’m in the IT department. We’ve recently switched to a new, notoriously incompetent ISP as a result of some ridiculous bureaucracy, and the first day of being switched over has resulted in a county-wide Internet outage. The staff has access to an emergency Internet connection to continue working, but the entire lab — the library’s most widely-used feature — is out of commission. When I arrive at work that morning, right as the library is opening, there is a sign stating this on the front door. There is also a sign on all the stairwell doors, and one in the elevator as I ride up.)

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], the Internet—”

Me: “Yep, saw the signs.”

Supervisor: “Yeah. Come on down to the reference desk so we can get them on the emergency network, at least.”

Me: “You got it.”

(The reference desk is where patrons can check out computers in the lab. We head down through the staff elevator. There’s another sign announcing the lab’s closure on a stand near the main elevator, and two more posted on both doors leading to the lab. The self-checkout station also has a sign posted on it.)

Me: *jokingly* “Wonder how many people are going to ask if the lab’s open today.”

Supervisor: “What? We’ve got like thirty signs posted.”

Me: “Mm, well…”

(We quickly get the reference librarians back online. As I’m standing up from where I’ve been kneeling under the desk, a notepad catches my eye, and I crack up.)

Me: “[Supervisor], check this out.”

(The page has the title, “People who ignored the signs,” with a running tally below it.)

Supervisor: “You must be kidding me. How many are on there?”

Me: “Upwards of fifteen.”

(We hadn’t even been open a full hour yet.)

Name Shame

, , , , , | Working | September 28, 2018

(The library where I work has a high turnover of pages, as it’s a pretty thankless job. It’s not unusual for them to work a few shifts and then quit. We have recently hired a new page, a young man. I see him pushing a cart by the desk.)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A few days later…)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A few more days later…)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A week or so later I’m at the desk with a colleague.)

Coworker: “Oh, did you hear? David quit.”

Me: “Who is David?”

Coworker: “The new page. He just started like two weeks ago.”

Me: “Huh, I don’t think I even met him.”

Coworker: “Are you sure?”

(She starts describing him, and to my horror I realize she’s describing the page I’ve been calling “Brandon.”)

Me: “Oh, my God, I thought his name was Brandon! I called him Brandon like six times to his face and he never corrected me!”

Coworker: *laughing*

Me: “I feel terrible! Oh, my God.”

(I really did feel awful. I wish he would have told me his name was David! The worst part is that we all wear name tags, so if I’d taken two seconds to look at his name tag I would have realized my mistake. I’m more careful now about learning the new pages’ names.)

Your Request Does Not Compute

, , , , | Right | September 14, 2018

(I work at a campus library as the receptionist. I’ve been working here about two years, but my coworker hasn’t even been here for a month.)

Patron: “Hello. Could you look up a call number for me?”

Coworker: “Of course. Let me just get online—”

Patron: *suddenly sharp* “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

Coworker: “Um…”

Patron: “You shouldn’t have to use the computer to get my call number. You should just be able to do it.”

Coworker: “I’m not sure what you mean? I could get the manager and maybe he—”

Patron: “You shouldn’t have to go get your manager. You should be able to just do it.”

Coworker: “Our entire system is online, ma’am—”

Patron: *walks away in a huff*

(Five minutes later, she came back to the desk to tell my coworker that she found the call number herself without his help. How did she do this? By looking it up online. Also, I told my coworker not to feel too bad about getting chewed out by her. I had spent fifteen minutes with her last week showing her how to print a document from Word.)

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