Behind The Counter: A Librarian Confessional

"It must be so nice to be a librarian, I would love to sit around and read all day."

The patient has been prepped for surgery...

So would I, but that is the last thing that I get to do as a librarian. In fact, I read far less than I used to pre-librarian days. In the good ol' before book drop days I would polish off at least one book a day. Now I've been reduced to a book every three days or so. For someone that can read a good sized novel in about three hours; that admission is little embarrassing. I blame the author of Fifty Shades of Grey, if I didn't have to check in so many copies maybe I would get some more reading done.

This got me to thinking, do people not know what librarians actually do? Granted, as a rural librarian my job description tends to be a little more fluid than most, but in all honestly I prefer it that way. Excess stimuli keeps the boredom ghosts at bay. As I tend to be a civic minded sort of gal, I thought I would post a little snap shot into what I actually do as a librarian. This is sort of an unwanted public service announcement, but now I have this platform, so I can write and post whatever I wish. Yay!

My job title is as follows: A Circulation Specialist.

What the heck does that even mean? Is it one of those feel good titles? The only thing that I am really special at is my psychic ability to know when one of the patrons needs the bathroom key. A couple of years ago we had an artist use his own brand of fecal medium and paint his opus on the walls of the men's bathroom. You never know when one's muse is going to demand tribute. Or where. I just wish that the where wasn't ever where I am when it comes to that particular brand of art. Oops, sorry, got sidetracked by the memory of Jackson Bowel-lock's crapterpiece. Very moving stuff there. Returning to my psychic gift. There is now a key required to enter the bathrooms, and the highlight of my job is to hand them out, while I am trying to work, ALL DAY LONG! This past Saturday, a man went outside after I helped him print something. After staring at the bathroom door handle for what I assume was at least 30 seconds, he walked back through the door. I saw the "bathroom" look on the middle-aged man's face. One eyebrow raised in inquiry, but with a hesitant hitch in his gate, left side of his mouth hesitantly pursed to ask me for the key. I whipped it out of the drawer and dangled it over the counter without uttering a single word. He stopped and stared at me with a bit of awe. "Are you psychic?" he asked me with a hint of reverence. "Nope," I replied, "I've just beheld that look at least a couple thousand times." Isn't that a great job skill, I am sensitive to the waste evacuation needs of our species. The gatekeeper to the elimination throne. That has to be a useful skill, right?

My psychic skill extends to other areas of customer service. I tend to glance out of the window and see people exiting their vehicles. I don't know why I do this, but remember, I am "special". I will have the patron's holds waiting on the front desk before they even get in the front door. I like the look of shock and then appreciative awe on their faces when they realize that not only do I know who they are, but I have their order ready for them without asking. In all truth, I kind of like messing with people. I'm also a touch nice, well at least that is the illusion that I sell. My co-workers know the truth. Some of it.

Enough of the meta-human skills. I also possess some surgical skills. The fine art of book surgery is alive and well, and I am probably about as good at it as a medieval dentist would be at installing implants. Our collection takes quite a beating in the hands of the public, and we when we check in everything, we wash and shelve it all. I often find myself muttering, "I hope that is chocolate" as I wash a mystery brown substance off of "If You Give a Mouse A Cookie". Sometimes, I come across a book or item that is damaged. The item is not damaged enough to need replaced, rather just augmented back into a usable state. I check that wounded animal out to mending and throw it on the shelf for evaluation later. The book mending waiting room is about like waiting at some doctor's offices, as I tend to get to the mending about once a week.

The tools of my trade

Most book surgery involves re-gluing loose bindings, and taping in loose pages. Sometimes I get to do something challenging like repairing a hole that was gouged. It's usually on a dog training book; as most of them are riddled with teeth marks. Sometimes they are riddled with urine. Puppies have a sense of humor apparently. Today was a pretty straight forward schedule of book surgery, just one binding re-gluing and a page to tape back in.

Along with the above, I help run children's programs, run and plan all adult programs, check in, check out, repair, clean, and shelve books. I mediate disputes between patrons, pull and process holds, search for lists of foods with carbs in them, help people print all manner of life forms, answer questions that range from "What is a user name?" to "What is the geneaology of Luke and Leia?" (I gave that confused soul a baby name meaning book, @Generikat for the WIN!). I google and figure out solutions to problems that people are too lazy to figure out for themselves. One of my favorite duties is to keep my manager content and in a happy mood, in fact, I did that so well that she retired last week, so I, along with a couple of my co-workers now also have to do most of her job.

What's really amazing, is that I truly, truly love what I do. I love finding the answers to questions, and I love serving the public. There are a few things that I don't love. Poo art and vomiting service dogs are up there on the list, but the myth that I get to sit around and read all the time is probably my greatest pet peeve, and I don't even have pet peeves. That would make me a cranky librarian, and I am the weird, giggly one.

Have a good night Steemians! And turn in your overdue items!!!

Both of the photos in this post were taken by the author, with her trusty, hay dusty iPhone.

Written with StackEdit.