Phone Etiquette for Calling (Me at) Your Library

I don't always answer the phone here,
but when I do, I'm the Etiquette Police.

Okay, here's how it works. You call the library.

Ring! Ring!
Me: Your Local Library! May I help you?
You: Hello. I have a question. Are you open on Saturdays?
Me: Yes, indeed. We are open from Insanely Stupid Hour to Another Silly Hour.
Etc.
You: Thank you. You were very helpful and not at all snide!
Me: You're welcome! It's so refreshing to talk to someone who knows what they want.
[Hang up.]

Not:

Ring! Ring!
Me: Your Local Library! May I help you?
You: How are you?
Me: ... uhhhh. [Thinks: Who is this? Do they know me?] Fine?

When "How are you?" is appropriate:

Ring! Ring!
Me: Your Local Library! May I help you?
You: Hello, I'm calling to ask ... Wait a minute! Is this Miss Marf?
Me: Yes, it is ...
You: This is [Insert name of child who used to come to my storytime 20 years ago and is now married with a kid]! How are you?
Me: Ohhhhhh, [name inserted while I desperately try to remember who it is]! So good to hear from you! I'm doing quite well. How are you?
You: I'm just great! I'm in law school now. I was calling to find out about your hours on Saturdays.

See the difference? In one case, it was someone who was just calling for information and was a stranger. In the other, it was someone who knew and remembered me (even if I could not immediately recall them - which happens all the time). But I get this "How are you?" gambit all the time. As much as I'd like to respond with some version of, "Excuse me, but who is this?" I realize that I am at a public service desk and while I might think correcting someone's phone etiquette constitutes a "public service," I bet my boss doesn't.

So, I'm telling you. Have a nice day!

For Tat

I suppose it says something about the internet that I reluctantly did not include the first part of that expression.

A while ago, I heard that one of our branches did some great programs with Legos. Now, just to play effectively with Legos you need a lot of them. The branch manager had groups of kids building. It occurred to me that when we bought our Lego table and Duplo blocks (because they're too big to be swallowed and can be left out), we were accidentally sent some of the smaller blocks. We had two unopened bags of them stored for a few years, forgotten.
I sent them to the branch. My boss wasn't thrilled. What if we wanted to do a program with them? Ahhh, but if we do, how much more likely we are to get all the ones from the branch as well as those back! Won't the branch look more kindly upon us? The two bags we had weren't enough to do a program with, unless there were very few kids. Besides, it got more junk out of our storage and to a place where someone would use them. Win-win-win!
Cast your Legos (and other resources) upon the waters ...

A blogpost on how to do a program here: http://showmelibrarian.blogspot.com/2012/11/how-to-host-lego-club.html

I Hate the Movies

Not the actual model.

We have a (relatively) new library with a fabulous (ha) projector system that's supposed to play Blu-Ray and project laptops onto a screen that is supposed to come down and go back up in a reasonable fashion.

Me, I would rather sit and read to 50 squirmy kids for 90 minutes than have to try to operate this useless piece of techsrement. It did come with some sort of remote, but not the sort of remote that you or I use for watching DVDs at home - oh no! I'm not sure what it does, but the remote isn't in anyway useful. In fact, I didn't know we even had one until out of desperation in trying to figure something out, I opened the case on the wall. The remote was inside. Ah, so it wouldn't get lost, I imagine. It would have been nice to have known it was in there, even if it's useless.

This equipment, which was undoubtedly expensive, came with no guide or operation manual. If there had been one, the installers took it with them when they left, just before they hid the remote inside the casing. We have no idea what we're doing most of the time. The only advice they gave me was "Never turn this off," and the man pointed at the main switch. "It will mess up the programming." I have never turned it off. I dutifully put a sign next to that switch that says "Never turn off."

It would also have been nice if there was some audio input so that I could play my puppet show recordings, but no. I have to set my boombox up on the stage for puppet audio.

It's useless. Just plain without any sense or rhyme.

Today we had to show a movie, and I suggested we get going 45 minutes ahead because I know this trash heap can be ... finicky. We inserted the Blu-Ray, pressed the Blu-Ray button and a selection screen was projected. There was no way to make a selection and it would not move past that screen to play. We tried everything. By this time there are now three of us working on it. We tried the laptop, and that was taking forever to come up. We clicked the laptop button and waited for the disc to start up. Nothing but the blue screen of death was being projected. And the laptop wouldn't give the disc back. Finally, I pressed the laptop button again and it came on. We were able to choose "English" and the video progressed.

We were done with five minutes to spare and not all the popcorn was ready, but it was close. This happens almost every time we use the contraption. Something is always going wrong and we have to bash at buttons and find work-arounds.

Meantime, it's busy out in the Children's Room. People are signing up for Summer Reading and asking questions. Fortunately, the internet and wireless were down, so that cut down quite a bit of that sort of traffic. However, I was a quivering blob by then.

I hate that system. It's useless. I can't think of another word than "useless," unless with some sort of string of emphatic intensifiers. I can only hope that the next time they plan to show a movie (even more annoying is that the person who set up the movie schedule no longer works here to handle it herself), I will be either in another country or on another planet.

Please, please let us not show any more movies. Shoot me first.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One ...

The library is a public space, and as a public space, we have to allow the public inside. This causes all sorts of problems: the public likes to touch the books, the public likes to take books home, the public brings the books back. Most of these are problems that are actually a feature of the business we're in.
There are many other little things that crop up from time to time. I have often had to wear the Psychiatrist Hat. When we were between cleaning help, I had to clean the bathrooms in my area - and this has happened in both the old and the new library. Now, one expects poo to be a part of this, if one is cleaning a bathroom. One might not expect it elsewhere in the library, but it did happen once in the stacks and a patron had to point it out, after it had even been trodden a bit into the carpet by either an unsuspecting child or, perhaps, a suspected one.
At the old library, we had access to some cleaning products and paper towels and I personally cleaned that up.
Now, I told  you that story to tell  you this next one.
Once upon an old library with a one-person cleaning crew, there was another one of these accidents that happened in the adult area. An adult was not quick enough and left a ... spoor from the magazine/reading area, past the circulation desk, and finally to the bathroom. The woman who had been working in the Reference Room nearby took the initiative to clean it up herself before it became ground in, as had happened in my area.
Her idea was to get a broom and sweep it up onto paper and she was in a hurry. The cleaning woman had a broom. The cleaning woman was there. There ensued the sort of scene worthy of The Lucy Show.
The cleaning woman would not give up the broom for this. It was a clean broom. No amount of cajoling or promises to immediately buy a new broom for her induced the cleaning woman to relinquish her broom.
The reason I know about this is because there was a chase scene starting from the ... spoor all around to the Children's Room where a tug-of-war erupted right in front of me. So, picture, if you will, two middle-aged women tugging a broom back and forth and arguing, in the middle of the Children's Room of a public library. Moments like these are precious jewels in my memory. Hold that scene in your mind and add whatever colorful elements you choose. End it however you like when you are ready and sufficiently amused. If you want to know how it was resolved, the reference librarian had weight on her side and she finally got possession of the broom and scurried off to clean up. The cleaning woman muttered imprecations and quit right then.
I was reminded of this story today when a child peed on the carpet and all I had was a roll of paper towels, all the cleaning products being locked up for the professional crew.

Mommies Talk During Storytime

We all remember Miss Marf's cellphone song:

I [C] went to the storytime (or  puppet show)] [Am] with my mom,
[F] but she left her [G] cellphone on.
The [C] cellphone rang and she [Am] took the call.
[F] Now we're [G7] not allowed back [C] in at all.

Followed by: Now, let's turn off our cellphones [mime this] and put them away [mime putting in your pocket].

I've added a verse for the mommies that talk during storytime. Not just a bit, but all through storytime.

We [C] love our storytime, [Am] but as we sat,
[F] some of the mommies in the [G] back would chat.
Soon [C] no one paid attention and [Am] Miss Marf got sore.
[F] Now our story [G7] teller is a [C] mean dinosaur.

I resisted the insertion of a verse about how Miss Marf retired in a snit (because of the tempting rhyme problems) or a huff.

[Edit: Likely ukulele chords added later. Arrange your own tune around it, or write your own.]

Confessions of a Careless Patron

One day, I was listening to the audio of this book, but had to go to work. I was at a critical point in the narrative. I picked up the copy we had at work (fortuitously checked in!) and read for a bit. I left it on my desk.
I haven't seen it since.

This was months ago. I renewed it and continued to look for it for quite a while. Things came to a head today when I finished a downloaded book and tried to log into the Jasmine Digital Library ... and it said I had an overdue book and it had cut off my access! This was almost as bad as the day it told me my card had expired and I was unable to get another book until the library opened the next day!

I came in and went to the circulation desk to try to settle my account (bringing my wallet with me) but it was busy and I ended up helping to check out books instead. When it calmed down I explained my problem to a co-worker who was loathe to charge me for the book.

"But I lost the book!" I said. She got the circulation manager. They looked at the charge: $25. They didn't want to charge me that. Aw, shhhhugar - I can pay it! Well, then they wouldn't charge me the processing fee (another $3 "hidden" charge). That was okay. Then they wanted to charge me half of the price. "But I lost the book!"

Eventually, they bargained me down to not paying at all. I feel terribly guilty about this and feel I haven't "learned my lesson." I'm sure I'm going to turn into a scoff-law and ne'er-do-well. I might even descend to "evil doer."

Also, the book won't be replaced! No one else will enjoy this Jasper Fforde foolishness! The shame! The shame of it all!

Secondhand PLA

I'll have a crocodile sandwich ... and make it snappy.

My supervisor described to us in a quick meeting Thursday morning a program she would like to do aimed at autistic children ... something she saw at PLA.
[We are not a large or rich library system, so only a few are able to go to the big conferences. We have been told that if we don't share the information we get, we won't be allowed to go to another, so when I get back from classes, etc. to which only I was privy, I write it up and post it for everyone. It's up to them to read it or not. That said, the write-up is not just for the director to prove you went to the programs. Ahem.]

Anyway, one tiny idea mentioned at this quick meeting stuck in my head, and most fortuitously. My supervisor also decided that she wasn't up to doing the toddler storytime that day ... that would happen in about an hour. She asked if I would just use whatever I had done the day before with the preschoolers.
Panic ensued. But then that little idea she mentioned earlier popped back up to save me.

At these autistic child-oriented programs, they gave the children something to hold in their hands that was relevant to the storytime. I had been doing crocodile stories, so I scrabbled around in the supply cabinet for all the green foam sheets I could find. We have a small alligator/crocodile die and I could get six of them off of a sheet of foam.

As the kids came in, I handed the moms (mostly - one might be a gran') the sheet of songs and poems and each child got a die-cut green foam crocodile. I wasn't sure what they would do with it. Many of them were babies and might try to eat it. From what I could tell, most of them just held it.

Later, one of the moms said that the kids were much quieter because of holding the crocodiles. Really? That was quieter? Must be chaos normally!

I reported this success to my supervisor. She might want to try that herself.

Book Review

Because Goodreads doesn't list it:

Cheepy Chick's Holiday by ... someone at Brimax Books. Amazon lists the author as Lucy Kincaid but our catalog says June Woodman.

There's something about this that makes me read it as "Creepy" Chick's Holiday. And every time I see "Cheepy" it comes across as "Creepy." This is a large-print children's book aimed at early readers, ages 4 to 7 years. While the print is very large, it is also very close together, causing even someone with my middle-aged eyes to hold it at a distance.
Creepy - sorry, Cheepy Chick is a small business owner who is worn to a frazzle by annoying customers who come to her shop and can't make up their tiny minds. C...Cr...Cheepy Chick's shop is not ergonomically organized. She needs to climb a ladder to get to the sweets she sells in her shop. The sweets have the inviting names of "brown" and "pink" and "white." One is unable to tell even from the illustrations what these might be. They appear to be cookies/biscuits of some sort. Given the state of the bakery arts of today, they probably don't have any real flavor other than "brown" or "pink" or "white."
At the end of the day, Ch-Cr ... Cheepy Chick is so exhausted that she is willing to turn the running of the shop over to her friends, Polly Pig, Bob Hedgehog, and the appropriately but not that cleverly named "Little" Hamster so she can take some much-needed time off.
Away she goes on a skiing vacation where, after a few spills, she is taught to ski properly by Pat Penguin, the ski instructor. She send her friends a postcard. After she returns, business has fallen off so much that she has to remove the cobwebs from the shelves, which she seems happy to do.
The moral of this story is, to the best of my reckoning: Take a vacation.
Things I don't understand:

• Why ... the chick person keeps all her popular items on upper shelves when she clearly has nothing on the lower ones. 
• Why her sweets aren't more descriptive. 
• How the shop got so dirty/cobweb-riddled while she was away although her friends are clearly cleaning the place as she's leaving. How long was she gone?
• Why the author dropped the ball in developing a relationship between our heroine and, say, the ski instructor or the dog on the train. 
• How far away she has to travel to go from apple time and green grass where she lives (September?) to full-blown snow. Is this California where you can sell your sweets in the morning and then nip up to the mountains to go skiing in the afternoon?
• Does she spend the night somewhere? Did she go clubbing? Baby seal clubbing?
• As attuned to sweets as young children might be, wouldn't they need something more to go on than just color description? 

All in all, I was unimpressed with the plot and the characterization in this oeuvre. I am considering discarding it instead of replacing the spine label, which has come off.