Currently reading: "Thin Is The New Happy" by Valerie Frankel
A man wandered in today, asking for a book. He knew neither a title nor an author. He just knew the book was big and expensive. It was an art book done by a female artist who was "famous for Indians hidden in the woods." It was sort of like a magic eye book, but not really. It was a sort of recent book, but not really.
THROW ME A BONE HERE PEOPLE! I can't do this all myself.
My arms are sore from the heavy lifting I do around here.
******UPDATE!*******
Thanks to a comment from a lovely reader, the mystery has been solved! I stand corrected--it is easy to find books/authors/concepts/etc. if you know how to look for them or if you happen to have heard of the topic/idea/person before. I will never forget this lady/idea/series so the next time I see the patron, I can tell him of the discovery. Thanks!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The One In Which I Am A Douche
Currently reading: "Naughty Little Secrets" by Mary Wilbon
A blind man came into the library asking for some help. I, of course, ask him, "What are you looking for?" without thinking. Blind Man says, "I wish I could look for anything" and then I felt appropriately ashamed.
Once, a pair of people using sign language was walking toward the quiet study room, which my boss is a Nazi about accosting people who seem to be heading there to remind them they are not allowed to talk when they are inside that room. So she went up to the deaf people WHO WERE SIGNING and told them they couldn't talk in the quiet study room. The deaf people asked for paper, then wrote down "We are deaf. We won't be talking."
Maybe we need some sensitivity training.
A blind man came into the library asking for some help. I, of course, ask him, "What are you looking for?" without thinking. Blind Man says, "I wish I could look for anything" and then I felt appropriately ashamed.
Once, a pair of people using sign language was walking toward the quiet study room, which my boss is a Nazi about accosting people who seem to be heading there to remind them they are not allowed to talk when they are inside that room. So she went up to the deaf people WHO WERE SIGNING and told them they couldn't talk in the quiet study room. The deaf people asked for paper, then wrote down "We are deaf. We won't be talking."
Maybe we need some sensitivity training.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
We're Not A Museum, Ma'am
Currently reading: "Does This Book Make Me Look Fat?" ed. by Marissa Walsh
Yesterday, a mother called asking if we had any original documents from Colonial America. She specifically said they couldn't be reproductions, because her son's teacher wanted works written by someone from Colonial America in the author's actual handwriting.
I know this may seem odd, but...well...you see, sadly, due to budget constraints, we are unable to house a large collection of original works from Ben Franklin or Pat Henry here at the library.
I asked her to read me the assignment from the sheet, so maybe I could make sense of it. Eventually, we agreed that she could probably make a photocopy of something or print out an image of the handwritten document. I suggested she could try Poor Richard's Almanack by Benjamin Franklin. She said she had never heard of Poor Richard or Benjamin Franklin, but she had heard of Little Richard.
Close enough.
Yesterday, a mother called asking if we had any original documents from Colonial America. She specifically said they couldn't be reproductions, because her son's teacher wanted works written by someone from Colonial America in the author's actual handwriting.
I know this may seem odd, but...well...you see, sadly, due to budget constraints, we are unable to house a large collection of original works from Ben Franklin or Pat Henry here at the library.
I asked her to read me the assignment from the sheet, so maybe I could make sense of it. Eventually, we agreed that she could probably make a photocopy of something or print out an image of the handwritten document. I suggested she could try Poor Richard's Almanack by Benjamin Franklin. She said she had never heard of Poor Richard or Benjamin Franklin, but she had heard of Little Richard.
Close enough.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Hidden Talents
Currently reading: "Travel Writing" by Peter Perry
There is nothing better than someone who takes himself a little too seriously. Or maybe nothing worse. A man told a co-worker he was such a hardcore ninja slash martial arts expert that he is to be considered armed and dangerous at all times, even when in the shower. I'm not sure why he had to throw that last part in there, but he did. I'm not trying to say he couldn't be a hardcore ninja slash martial arts expert, but he sort of loses the element of surprise by telling people about his hands slash weapons. What if someone was around that he would have had to fight later (outside and not near the library, of course)?
There is nothing better than someone who takes himself a little too seriously. Or maybe nothing worse. A man told a co-worker he was such a hardcore ninja slash martial arts expert that he is to be considered armed and dangerous at all times, even when in the shower. I'm not sure why he had to throw that last part in there, but he did. I'm not trying to say he couldn't be a hardcore ninja slash martial arts expert, but he sort of loses the element of surprise by telling people about his hands slash weapons. What if someone was around that he would have had to fight later (outside and not near the library, of course)?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
We Don't Sell Food Here
Currently re-reading: "Eclipse" by Stephenie Meyer
We have library cards with bar codes on them, and to go online, you need to scan your card at a sign-in station. Today, a man called me over to complain that he had scanned his card a few times and it wasn't accepting it. I said, "Sir, that card you've been scanning is your supermarket rewards card." Oops.
He was cute about it, and said, "Don't say it so loudly that I tried to scan my rewards card. Then everyone will know I'm an idiot!"
Him, I liked.
We have library cards with bar codes on them, and to go online, you need to scan your card at a sign-in station. Today, a man called me over to complain that he had scanned his card a few times and it wasn't accepting it. I said, "Sir, that card you've been scanning is your supermarket rewards card." Oops.
He was cute about it, and said, "Don't say it so loudly that I tried to scan my rewards card. Then everyone will know I'm an idiot!"
Him, I liked.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Mmm. Oil.
Currently re-reading: "New Moon" by Stephenie Meyer
Sometimes I mix up words. I think everyone does. Not everyone does it in such an awesome way as a man I talked to today.
I needed to check on a book that was supposed to come out in September, but still doesn't seem to be around, so I called the ALA. Yes, I called on the headquarters of the American Library Association, who was set to publish the book. I called and used the ISBN number as a way for him to find the book.
The book is called "Sequels: An Annotated Guide to Novels in Series". When he pulled it up, he said, "Oh, yes, Sequels, an ANOINTED Guide to Novels in Series." I didn't even laugh, not even after he said it three more times. I suppose the letters are close, a's and n's and t's and the like, but I can't see how any book could really claim to be chosen by divine intervention. Maybe the Bible or an Oprah book, but that's it.
I once had a patron come in and ask if I could help her use Google maps, but she called it Google-y, like googly eyes. That kept me entertained for at least two days.
Sometimes I mix up words. I think everyone does. Not everyone does it in such an awesome way as a man I talked to today.
I needed to check on a book that was supposed to come out in September, but still doesn't seem to be around, so I called the ALA. Yes, I called on the headquarters of the American Library Association, who was set to publish the book. I called and used the ISBN number as a way for him to find the book.
The book is called "Sequels: An Annotated Guide to Novels in Series". When he pulled it up, he said, "Oh, yes, Sequels, an ANOINTED Guide to Novels in Series." I didn't even laugh, not even after he said it three more times. I suppose the letters are close, a's and n's and t's and the like, but I can't see how any book could really claim to be chosen by divine intervention. Maybe the Bible or an Oprah book, but that's it.
I once had a patron come in and ask if I could help her use Google maps, but she called it Google-y, like googly eyes. That kept me entertained for at least two days.
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