I’ll take a Bacardi and Librarian, straight up

So while I wish I could say my backside even slightly resembled this toned, bronzed chick, I can not. However, I do find myself chuckling slightly at this ad if for no other reason than the context in which it was found.

“This one is a wowzer, and the most offensive of the bunch (and that’s not just my own opinion but that of several others on the various lists). The text reads: “Librarian by day. Bacardi by night.” What’s going on here? Yes, on the one hand, it’s always nice to have a representation that’s not the stereotype; but on the other, does this representation do us any better?!? Talk about playing into the “naughty librarian” image… “Just imagine what will happen if you pour a little Bacardi down that librarian’s throat! She’ll drop her hair down and be ready to party hardy!” Sheesh.”
- Taken from You don’t look like a librarian!

Well I don’t know about you, but after a day in this freak show I’d love a little Bacardi… cheers!

Take me to your leader

BossMan. Little can describe him. While prone to outbursts which rival the likes of Bill Cowher he really isn’t horrible to work for. So maybe he needs a few anger management classes, but let’s be honest here, he mocks them anyway, what good would it really do? Even after being here this long I still set my cards down lightly when it comes to BossMan. I’m pretty confident that if I can just stay in his good graces life as I know it here will continue to roll on relatively smoothly.

BossMan is truly a specimen in his own right. He comes to work in expensive clothes, tromping around the library ready to take on whatever may come his way, wayward volunteers, budget meetings, or anyone else who may piss him off. By the end of the day he comes out of his office looking so disheveled you can’t help but wonder what he does back there. Shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, pants creased with wrinkles, whisps of hair that were once placed in an intricate comb-over now defy gravity all over his head, even his glasses are askew. But he never loses that stance… oh no… he’s always ready for a good throw down.

Books-on-CD Man

Seeing as this is where I spend the majority of my waking hours, you can’t blame a girl for checking out the scenery now and then. Unfortunately, I have gotten used to spending my time at the circulation desk either reading or catching up on emails, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out there isn’t much to look at from a library desk. However, there has come to be one man who will make me put my book down. He is super cute in a blue-collar-momma-taught-me-to-floss sort of way. I merely admire him from afar and try to control the width of my smile when he comes up to the counter.

For the longest time I didn’t even know his name, even though I had his personal information at my fingertips every time I swiped his card. But, by the time I came out of the trance, it was several barcodes later with little hope in figuring out which string of numbers was him. It was always the same. He’d come in, same outfit, same melt-the-universe smile, and same search: the newest books-on-CD for his long commute. I once thought about attempting to give suggestions but come on who do I think I am, a librarian, pish posh. Instead I stood next to him amongst the dusty cases and reverted back to a ninth grade version of my self. It was cute, real cute.

In the meantime, my co-workers have found out about my secret one-sided love affair with Books-on-CD Man. It got to a point where Andy would actually buzz me back at my office and tell me I was needed up front whenever Books-on-CD Man made an appearance. I certainly looked like a Class A stalker there for awhile. I put my foot down very quickly in one my Andy directed tirades.

While he wears no ring and always comes in alone it has been determined by some stealth investigation that Books-on-CD Man is involved. Thelma, a trusty part-timer, saw him in a local store looking at china patterns with a woman. This is never a good sign.

Alas, Books-on-CD Man will always remain an enigma, a warm body on the other side of the counter. And while our contact may never go beyond small talk and the occasional brush of fingertips when he hands me his library card, it’ll be ok. And if, somehow, he happened to be merely setting up a gift registry with his sister and he comes in tomorrow and confesses his undying love for the cute library girl, well… let’s just say i will be more than willing to start remembering his first name.

Life Beyond

Contrary to what my story time kids think, I do leave the library once in awhile and actually seem to function quite well in the great beyond. Ok, so the second part is debatable. But yes, people, I do have a life outside of this lovely place. And while I’m sure you can’t wait to read all my juicy library anecdotes, let’s face it, there is life beyond, and I’m going to tell about it.

So here is the gist of things to give you a framework in which to take me in. I’m a twenty-something, single chick, dealing with all which that entails. And that about covers it.

Poor Conan. As my office mate he must listen to all my trials and tribulations, which for a man in a seemingly “normal” happy marriage, surely he tires of my woes. I swivel my chair around and dive into a tirade about my latest debacle, and tapping into his library school skills, he listens attentively, and sends me in the proper direction. Now, instead of being blindsided by my spastic nature, he can simply add this page to his google reader and deal with my many issues at his leisure.

Therefore, readers beware. Among my library confessionals there may very well be some glimpses of my life beyond.

Who’s in charge here?

I look up from my book to see a woman staring blankly at me, arm outstretched, library card thrust in my direction. No words. Ah please pardon me while I tap into my Madame Cleo alter ego. You would like a computer? Yes, yes, I see it now.

“Computer number 3,” she says. Ok, lady, not how this system works. You hand me your library card, preferably with an audible request to use the public computers, after scanning the barcode to make sure you are not indebted to us nor any sort of library offender, I tell you your computer assignment.

Simple right? Wrong. And one of my biggest pet peeves. Actually, two of them all rolled into one, brief transaction. Number one, I do not read minds. This will become even more evident in future blog posts about my relationships with the men of my life. Number two, I am in charge here, or at least in this interaction. I am behind the desk, I am the one who gets the pay check, and I am the one who is going to hear it from BossMan and Andy if you decide to not play nice with others, namely the massive number of people in the internet world. So, that being said, I will take your request and do with it what I like. We have several computers, they all do the same thing. Maybe you don’t want me to be able to gaze over to your screen from where I sit, but well, you should have thought about that before you came to the public library to meet your internet needs.

When did I become so irritable? Just one step closer to being a crotchety librarian.

Library Voices

The vision of a library. The stacks of books running up and down aisles. People crouching in corners, hunched over a piece of literature. The slight rustle of turning pages fills the air. Children sit on the parents laps as they softly whisper delightful stories. Librarians stand behind counters, glasses pushed down, hair piled up, smiles on their faces as they speak to approaching patrons in hushed voices. Ahh… the serene library.

Now if you have ever been a public library or even have the joy of working in one, you are probably already off the chair laughing at this utopian vision. The decibel level of a public library hovers somewhere slightly below a KISS concert. Children run around like crazed hyenas. And most people are here for one of two reasons: to use the free internet or to check out DVDs.

Children clearly have no idea what it means to use a “library voice.” Though, this is not a skill that they would learn from their parents who bark into their cell phones over the din of the wailing children. And, unfortunately, they aren’t going to learn it from the librarian’s either, who can often times be heard shouting from their perch at the circulation desk. Though we can’t entire fault ourselves, perhaps it is simply a last ditch effort to be heard over the ruckus and hullabaloo, to reclaim the kingdom that is right ours.

In the end, the term “library voice” has lost its meaning altogether.

Checked Out

“I prefer books to dogs and dogs to children. If you had to rate books, dogs, and children, what order would they be in?” I should have walked out the door right then. But I needed a job. A full-time job, with benefits. Something not easy to come by for recent college graduate who is sitting back hoping for the answer while watching the economy do a nose dive. So instead, I smiled took a breath, and with confidence and poise that only a communications major from a small liberal arts university could fake, I answered the remaining questions.

Over a year later I still refuse to acknowledge my status as a librarian. In fact, even my job title omits the word, hailing me as the all powerful “Children’s Specialist.” I do not however, specialize in children. I simply deal and perform and marvel at the various library antics that unravel around me, while causing a few of my own.

So here I am, a girl ready to write about life just like it is: a maelstrom of freaks, geeks, and the men they pretend to be.