Friday, December 9, 2016

questionable language

In the past two days at the library we had three parking lot fiascos:

1. Someone phoned in about a wallet they lost 'on the way to their car.' I tried to find it, but I wasn't going to crawl around under cars looking for it. Especially since her description of where she parked was vague. When I told the patron that I couldn't find the wallet she said, "never mind. I'm pulling in. I'll look for it myself."

Ok, so why the call?

Let me point out that the temperature barely reached 20 degrees the past couple days so I looked awfully suspicious with no coat, walking slowly around the parking lot with my eyes to the ground.

Thankfully the wallet was found and she left happy.

2. A car alarm went off for several minutes.  I ducked my head outside, located the car and saw that it was occupied by a gentleman holding his fob.  Relieved, I went back inside thinking the situation was under control.

Several more minutes passed and the alarm never ceased.  So I went back out to the car and politely tapped on the window.  He was now holding not only his fob, but also the owner's manual.  I asked him all the basics - did he turn on his car? Yes. Did he try unlocking the car from fob and door? Yes. And so on.

Apparently he had tried all the logical approaches so I asked for his fob and proceeded to click the unlock button a zillion times as fast as I could. Somewhere in all that clicking the alarm stopped.  And it didn't go off again, not once during the hour or so while the gentleman was in the library. 

The gentleman was very thankful, and quite honestly, I was too.  I will definitely always try madly pressing buttons first in the hopes that whatever problem at hand is magically solved. 

3. The craziest parking lot fiasco involved a gentleman who fell on a patch of rock salt (we had our first snow) and knocked himself out.  While the paramedics were checking him out they said it was likely he had a concussion, but in a much more urgent voice they said he was going to need some stitches because he tore his eyelid off.  

Later today, as I was wrapping up my work, one of our regular patrons handed me a signed copy of his book, which was a brand new third edition.  I had been wondering for years what kind of author he was, and so I was thrilled to get a copy.  

"It's about beating alcoholism," he said proudly.  

"There's some questionable language in here," he continued, looking concerned.  "Overcoming alcoholism is really tough," he said as if that explained it.  And then he gave me a really meaningful look and hurried off.  

Ok, so I've had a couple crazy days, but they haven't been that crazy.  

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