Local flavor, courtesy of the West Hartford library system

As I continue to be unemployed (or job hunting, or house-husbanding, or "unsuccessfully freelancing," or whatever I decide to call my situation this week), I have found myself spending quite a bit of my abundant free time at the local library. I rent movies, take out too many books, borrow CDs, and generally enjoy the quiet space and the knowledge that I'm surrounded by millions of words and sentences. There is a certain comfort in being engulfed in stories that I can't quite describe.

And, as I browse the shelves or sit for a moment to enjoy the silence, I've taken to listening in on the library's information station. Not to the librarians themselves, but to the West Hartford residents that try their patience day after day. I've got to hand it to the librarians. They always keep their cool, no matter how convoluted the question or situation is that approaches their desk.

For example, today I got to hear an exchange that began with a young man (I assume, as I only heard voices) telling the info desk worker that there seemed to be a problem with one of the computers in the computer lab.

"What seems to be the problem?" the librarian asked.

"The computer is unplugged," replied the young man.

Now, tell me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't the average individual be able to solve such a dilemma? Yet, the woman acted as if the question were completely valid and told the young man that, most likely, the computer was unplugged for a reason and that he should find another unit to work on.

Another incident I overheard dealt with an older woman who came in to pick up a book requested from the New York Public Library. The book, however, was nowhere to be found. When the librarian asked if she received a notice stating the book's arrival, the woman replied, "Yes." When the librarian asked when she received notice, she replied, "Last week." After a bit of digging, the librarian found that the book had indeed arrived, but that, after 4 business days, it was returned to the NYPL, per their policy.

"But, this is for my husband! He needs this book!"

"I understand, but the book isn't here anymore."

"He NEEDS this book!"

"I understand, but once the book isn't picked up after a few days, we have to send it back."

"You don't see. He NEEDS this book! It's only been four or five days!"

This went on for a few more minutes until the woman was convinced that, regardless of her husband's needs, the book was not hiding anywhere in the library. I assume she re-requested it, but I couldn't hear.

Something makes me wish the book was titled something like "How To Get Your Arm Unstuck From Your Dishwasher" and the poor husband was sitting in his kitchen, arm in machine, patiently waiting for his wife to return home. 

Then there was the teenager who seemed to be trying to use someone else's library card to access the computers. I came into this conversation at midpoint, but from what I gathered, he was "borrowing" his friend's library card to go to the computer lab, but he couldn't get them to work. When the information desk librarian asked what his friend's name was, he said he wasn't sure.

"You don't know the last name of your friend?"

"No, not really."

(For those not from West Hartford, town library cards all have signatures on them. So, even if you don't know a name, you should be able to at least make a guess).

"Well," the worker said, "I suggest you go over to the customer service desk and get your own library card. It'll take five minutes, and you'll be all set."

Reluctantly, the kid replied, "Okay. Where's the desk to do that?"

"Right over there." To solidify her statement, the librarian pointed clear across the library, at the desk that had the gigantic words "CUSTOMER SERVICE" hanging above it.

The teen turned and, with a confused look on his face, wandered halfway across the room. Then, he stopped at one of the computers used to look up items in the card catalog and began to stare at it. I genuinely think he was fully expecting it to somehow create a library card of his very own.

I almost approached him to help, mostly out of sheer frustration with the kid, but I let him figure it out himself. He was still wandering when I left. You could almost smell the moth-ball odor of his infrequently-used brain as it tried to process the situation.

And these are just a few examples. I can only imagine what the librarians themselves have for stories. I'm happy to see so many people at the library. It just freaks me out to hear how many of them are completely helpless.