And now, a little snark...

*quickly brushes stapler foil-ment embarrassment under the rug*

And now, a little snark. So I'm sitting on the reference desk, happily weeding History (which isn't actually my area, but one of the kind librarians I work with indulges my weeding obsession and lets me leave her notes about the books I feel need to go to that great big library in the sky) when a regular patron comes up to me and asks if the study room on the same side of the building as us is open.

"I'm sorry, it isn't. There are three other rooms on the other side of the library..."
"Well, isn't there another quiet room, farther down on this side?"
"Yes, but that room is reserved only for small groups."
"You couldn't just let me in? I'd be happy to leave if a small group needs to use it..."

*sigh*.... *deep sigh*.... Really, people. Look, it's all fine and good to bend the rules once in a while. And you know, if he had asked at the beginning of my shift when the library was pretty quiet and dead, I might have even done it. But it was now towards the end of my shift, school had just let and all those "small groups" were all over the library doing homework (in a surprisingly civilized library manner, actually). Yes, I'm a bit of a hard ass too - but you tell one person you'll make an exception to the rule and 1. have them ask every day for a week, well beyond the point of "exception", and 2. Someone else overheard and expects the same kind of "exception." It's not that we are evil, it's just that being nice tends to be an invitation to be run over. So I said,

"I'm sorry, that room is -only- for small study groups." Begrudgingly, he asks for the far end room on the other side of the library. I log him in and get the key and start walking to the study room to open it for him.

"So, when this group here leaves (this would be the group that was sitting behind him where he had been working at a table in the open all day), would you mind coming and getting me?"

*headdesk* Really, you actually sit here every day - and you watch us work, at the table that is RIGHT NEXT to the reference desk - and you STILL think I have the time to pay enough attention during the busy hour to whether or not someone is sitting in a particular spot and then just letting you know when they have vacated? Do I look like a personal space reserver?!?

Mighty Librarian! Foiled by the Stapler...

Alright. I'm a librarian. I love books. And paper. And, yes, I've also had a perverse love of office supplies since before my walking days. It doesn't surprise me when the computers around me act demonically possessed and gnome infested - I'm used to computers and electronics mocking me and being difficult. But I have yet to figure out why the staplers at my current place of employment hate me with such loathing. It never fails. The stapler is out of staples. I put more in, I shut it. Some times, harshly. Other times, gingerly. And always - ALWAYS - it gets jammed. I must take it to a co-worker to rescue me the blasted uncooperative stapler. Perhaps I shouldn't have joked all these years about the staple conspiracy theory... I can deal with uppity patrons, really weird questions, and find anything (oftentimes with a little help from my friends...) but the damned stapler foils me. I'd declare war with the staplers, but I fear for my life.