(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!”

(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.”

Patron: “Can you help me find a particular book?”

Me: “Sure! What’s the title of the book?”

Patron: “It was published in England so I don’t know if you can get it.”

Me: *fingers poised over keyboard* “Well, I can check. What’s the title?”

Patron: “It was in the bibliography of this other book that I just read. It sure sounded interesting, so it would great if you can get it.”

Me: “What’s the title of the book?”

Patron: “Now I don’t know if I spelled the author’s name correctly…”

Me: “What’s the title of the book?”

Patron: “I think it was probably published in the 1800s.”

Me: “What’s the title of the book?”

Patron: *looking at me expectantly*

Me: *fingers still poised over keyboard*

Patron: “Well, are you going to look for it or not?”

I work in a library.

A guy from Florida called because he found a painting in his mother in law’s garage and wanted to know what kind of turkey was in it.

Patron: “Can you help me find a book? The catalog says it’s available, but it’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

Me: “Sure! First we’ll check and make sure we’re looking in the right ‘neighborhood’, since our books aren’t in strict Dewey order anymore; they’re arranged in neighborhoods and then by Dewey.”

Patron: “Yes, I know. This one is supposed to be in Sports & Recreation.”

Me: “Perfect! I’ll just look it up real quick to get the complete number.”

(I jot down the call number of the book he is looking for (he actually remembered the title!), and then we go to check the shelf in Sports & Recreation. Sure enough, the title he wants is not on the shelf where it is supposed to be. I scan the shelves above and below, and on either side, just in case it is a little out of order.)

Me: “Hmmm… I don’t see it anywhere. We can go check on the carts downstairs to see if it’s waiting to be shelved. We can also check to see when it last circulated. It might be missing.”

Patron: “Oh, it was just here the other day, because I was looking at it before.”

Me: “Oh, did you happen to put it on a cart to be re-shelved?”

Patron: “No, I put it on a different shelf so that no one else would take it.”

Me: *struggling to keep facial expression neutral* “Okay… well, where did you put it?”

(He leads me to another section entirely and points at the cookbooks. Sure enough, there was the book he wanted, tucked in among the vegan cookbooks.)

Me: “Here it is… right where you left it.”

Patron: “Well, that’s frustrating. How are we supposed to find books if they’re not where they’re supposed to be?”