The Chronology of a Monday

I don't know about you, but lately my Mondays seem to really stink.  Anything and everything that could go wrong always seems to happen on a Monday.  Maybe it's just me.  Maybe you have awesome Mondays and think they are the best day of the week.

Today was not a good day.  Everyone thinks that when you work in a library it must be such a nice, quiet place where nothing ever happens and you sit and read books all day long.  That is certainly not the reality of the library I work in, or any other public library I have visited.  

So why don't we all discuss how crap-tastic our Monday was?  I'll go first.  It can be like group therapy or something.  (I have no idea if it will be like group therapy, having never been to group therapy, but people venting their frustrations should be a good thing, right?)  And hey -- if you managed to have a fantastic Monday, feel free to share that, too!  It would be nice to know that someone had a good day.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

1) Immediately upon opening the doors at work this morning the first problem was presented.  Literally less than a minute after opening, the very first patron  through the door tells us that the police had just been in the parking lot, asking if anyone had heard  gun shots.  They said no, and the patrol car took off.  This is worrisome because:

     a) There could be a gun-toting loony shooting outside.

     b) Should we even be open, giving them a very public place to hide and/or several targets in one place?

     c) I don't live that far from work.  My neighborhood is already a hot mess.  I do not need to worry about being shot.  I am rather fond of being free of bullet holes, and I would very much like to stay that way.

2) Next patron tells us that there is a tornado watch until 5pm.  WTF.  We haven't even been open for 10 minutes yet.  Could we possibly slow down the cheerful tidings a bit?

3) Coworker finds this thing in the staff area.  We have had enough weird-ass bug problems that we literally have a bug jar to trap them in.  This thing was too big to even fit in the bug jar.  I'm thinking it is the biggest black cricket I have ever seen -- like the original, primordial cricket.  I took it outside and released it back into nature.  Whatever it is, I do not want it pissed at me.

So hoping it is really a cricket

4) Patron returns a bunch of wet books and dvds, covered with what can only be described as clear slime.  She says she doesn't know how they got like that.  I point out to her that her entire bag is soaking wet and covered in goo.  She says, "Yeah.  Sorry," and throws the goo-bag back into her baby stroller with the baby and leaves.  Now I get to deal with a bunch of goo-covered items, and the desk has a puddle of slime.  Awesome.

5)  The computers start acting up, being more temperamental than usual.  I watch mine do a slow crash, as everything on the screen very slowly disappears from top to bottom to reveal a completely blank desktop.  A coworker whom had just been logged in is now being told her password is incorrect.  Multiple tries before it will successfully let her back in.  The rate this day is going, I think the computers might be becoming self-aware.  It will not surprise me if Agent Smith or a Terminator walks through the door.

6) Sanity break for lunch, wherein I flee the building and keep telling myself, "The day is almost over.  The day is almost over.  Just a few more hours."

7) Within 15 minutes of returning from lunch I am confronted by an older gentleman who has decided that it is a perfectly good idea to partially disrobe and adjust his clothing in the middle of the library, right in front of the book return.  Seriously?  There is a men's room not more than 50 feet from where you are standing. But no, of course it is a much better idea to handle your business in the middle of the floor, with all kinds of patrons and children around.   I mean he had his belt undone, pants unzipped and was adjusting himself and tucking his shirt back in.   W.T.F.  I'll just put that in the Things I Never Wanted to See category, and try to erase the memory of your boxers from my brain.  I may need a drink later.

8) It decides to rain.  Hard.  Like get really black outside and rain so hard the parking lot looks like a lake for a little bit.  Soaking wet patrons, soaking wet items being returned, and the entire library starts to smell like a giant wet dog.  Imagine what a fun place that is to be.

9) On top of all of this, our security company was in doing work on our system for the majority of the day.  We had no idea they were coming.  They tried to stay out of the way, and actually did a pretty good job.  I really didn't mind their presence at all until pieces of ceiling tile rained down upon my head while I was at the circulation desk.  The only place in the entire building where the ceiling tile crumbles and pieces fall, and it is over my head?  I have obviously done something to piss off a higher power.  

10) Just when I think I am nearing my escape, I get to stay at work for an extra hour.  I can only blame myself for this one.  Due to a scheduling problem they had to shift staff around, and I did kind of volunteer my staying as a solution to cover a hole in the schedule.  Obviously, I am a glutton for punishment.  Or crazy.  Maybe both.  I had hit that point where you think to yourself, "Screw it.  What else can possibly happen?"  Definitely time to make more coffee.

I eventually made my escape, without further incidents.  I got home, thinking I had reached a blissfully peaceful place.  I should have known the day was not done with me yet.

11) Cat drama.  One of the neighborhood feral cats whom I call Mama, as she had kittens last year, came to pay a visit this evening.  Normally this is not a problem.  She hangs out in the backyard all of the time, eyeballing the bird feeder, or just sleeping in the shade.  I leave water out for her in the summer when it is super hot, or when it hasn't rained in a long time.  My two cats could not be less interested in her.  Jazz-kitty in particular has watched her countless times from the window, never once puffing up or making a peep.  Usually she acts more like she wants to make a new friend.  

Jazz-kitty being awesome

Tonight, apparently, a line was crossed.  As I am typing this, relaxing and being grateful that the day is over, I hear this weird little mewling/growling noise.  Wiz is passed out asleep by my feet.  Now I'm thinking Jazz-kitty has managed to get stuck somewhere, or hurt herself.  Nope.  I find her on the back porch, puffed up, making weird little noises and backing away from the screen door.  There on the other side of the door, standing on her back feet, front paws and her little nose pressed against the screen, is Mama Cat peeking into the house.  Jazz flees the scene as soon as I get to the back porch.  She has never met another cat (beside Wiz) and has zero clue what to do.  She obviously will not be a great defender if I need her.  Mama Cat goes down the back stairs, sits in the driveway, and just stares at the house.  

Well, shit.  

I can't let her in.  I don't think she has ever been to the vet, so she could have who knows what wrong with her that I don't want my cats to get.  She can't be thirsty, as the rain very nicely filled up the bowl I had left outside for her.  She doesn't appear to be hurt.  So I give her a bowl of dry food, and she goes to town munching away.  Poor thing!  Who knows how long it has been since she last ate.  

Jazz-kitty reappears, apparently realizing that her food had been given away to an interloper.  I expect her to start spazzing out again, getting all defensive.  Nope. She just jumps up in the window, lays down, and watches Mama Cat eating in the driveway.  She doesn't puff up, doesn't make a peep.  So apparently everybody is cool as long as Mama Cat doesn't come near the door to the house.  

Hopefully this is the end of my excitement for they day.  I know it isn't really, as Jazz-kitty will now be running from window to window for the rest of the night, investigating any shadow or sound outside.  If that is all the drama that is left for today, I will be happy.

So how was your Monday?

I Think We Understand Each Other Now

Dear Missionary/Proselytizing People,

Coming to my house and banging on the door repeatedly for 5-10 minutes at 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday is not a good idea.  It's not a good idea ever, to be fair, but particularly on a Saturday morning.

Anyone who actually knows me will tell you that it is never a good idea to try contacting me before 11 am on a Saturday morning -- I'm either already gone to work, or it is probably my one day off that week and I would like to sleep in a bit.

The vigor and duration of your knocking this morning woke me up.  Why you didn't try ringing the doorbell is beyond me, so I assumed it must be a panicked person who had overlooked it.   The thoughts going through my head as I grappled blindly on the nightstand for my glasses were:

--There must be some sort of emergency!  Maybe a neighbor is trying to get my attention because my house is on fire, or my car has been stolen.
--Maybe someone else's house is on fire, or they need the phone to call 911 from a car accident
--What if it is my parents and something happened and one of them is in the hospital?

Notice that none of those possibilities were happy thoughts because no one who knows me would be knocking on my door at 9:30 unless something awful happened!  That is the kind of thing that wakes you up and immediately puts on on alert.  You don't get to wake up and stretch, kind of lazily wander on out to make coffee.  Your heart starts racing, and you brace yourself to deal with whatever shit-storm is about to come your way.

I rushed to the door to see what was going on; glasses askew, bed head in full effect, still rocking my pajamas.  I passed my two cats, who were freaking out and running in the opposite direction, away from the Stranger Danger at the front door.

Imagine my surprise when I open the front door to find two guys in suits, their gold minivan parked in front of my house.  Their little name tags made it clear they were not police detectives, but from a church.

I bet at that moment you knew it was not a good idea to have been so zealous in getting someone to come to the door.  That fleeting look of "Mistake!" crossed one of your faces.  Did it stop you from starting your rehearsed spiel?  Of course not.

And don't say it isn't a rehearsed speech.  Spare me.  I don't know what I have done to convince your church that I am the Spawn of Satan, but my house seems to be on a list of "must-see stops" on your little missionary quests.  I have previously spoken to your people 3 times and told them that I am not at all interested.  I have found your pamphlets stuck under my door, or in my mailbox (which is illegal, just so you know), or under the handle of my front porch door on 8 different occasions.  That is 11 visits in the 3 years since I bought this house.  I don't think your representatives have come to my parents' house that many times in 30 years!

One of the latest pamphlets.  It had been pushed under my front door with such force that it went under my throw rug.  I found it last night when I was vacuuming.

I tried to be polite at first.  I really did.  I said Good Morning.  I let you you make your warm-up small talk.  (On a previous visit one lady asked if my parents were home.  I assured her they probably were, at their own house, but that I owned this one.)  No, I did not invite you in off of the front porch.  I did let you make your invitation to come to church and check it out.  I declined and said I wasn't interested.  

 If you had just accepted my answer and stopped at that point we would probably have been much better off.  You couldn't just let it go though, could you?    

You started the hard sell. You seemed to want a theological debate with a woman in her pajamas that you had clearly just woken up, as apparently telling you I was raised Roman Catholic was not a good answer.  Even your coworker (co-missionary?  proselytizing partner? church companion?  god-squad friend?) seemed uncomfortable.

And that would be when I ran out of "Nice".  I work with the public all day, every day.  I have to be "nice" to a lot of people when they are being total assholes.  My reserves of "nice" are pretty low when you wake me up, don't take a polite no for an answer, and then want to debate.

I didn't even get into the religious debate with you.  I've seen my father try that and get stuck in a half-hour conversation.

No.  Nice had gone bye-bye.

I made it very clear that you had woken me up.  That I did not, in any way, appreciate you pounding on my front door, startling me and scaring the bejesus out of my cats.  That I had, in fact, worked the last 11 days straight and this was my one day off -- my one day to sleep in, relax and drink my coffee at my leisure, get my housework done -- before I had to work another 7 days in a row.  

And then I asked you never to darken my doorstep again.  I informed you that repeatedly leaving unsolicited pamphlets, and repeatedly bothering me at home, was not going to make me want to attend your church.  It was, in fact, having the exact opposite affect.

Do I think it will make a difference?  Not at all.  

Maybe those two particular guys will not come back.  Probably they took this as a sign that I really am the Spawn of Satan, and they will redouble their efforts to save me.

Is there a "Do Not Call" list for missionaries?

File Under: Why Me?

So I'm leaving work on my dinner break this evening, and I held the door for the patron behind me.  Mistake!

It is one of our regular patrons who has been coming in for years.  I don't think anything of it until he links arms with me.

Um, okay.  He's a bit older than me -- like 30 years.  I thought maybe he was having trouble walking, lost his balance, something like that.  But he doesn't let go of my arm once we get outside.

This is the conversation that follows:

Patron: What is that delicious smell?  Is that your perfume?

Me: *looks around, sees no one else in the vicinity*   Yes, I guess it is.

Patron:  I like it.  You smell really good.

Me: Thank you.

Patron:  It's different, kind of mysterious.

Me: Thanks.

Patron: Are you married?

*Now, in my head I start worrying a little bit.  We are drifting in to territory I do not want to cover with this man.  At the same time, I don't want to lie. *

Me: Nope.

We pause as I, thankfully, was parked on the opposite side of the parking lot.

Patron:  Okay, that's good to know.  Well, have a nice evening.

Me: You too.

What.  The. Hell.

None of the patrons who have asked me out at work are anyone I would consider dating.  Let us recount:

-- The dude who learned my schedule, wrote bad love poetry on the internet, was in and out of rehab, and tried to sell his belongings to a coworker.

--Another guy who was older than me, although probably the most normal of the group.  He really likes his Sci-Fi movies.

-- A teenager, and after I said no he wanted me to buy him beer.

-- The guy who needed help writing his resume, had a high school diploma, and was living in his car.

Those are the standouts in my memory.

T.G.I.F.

Santa and His What Now?

First, the briefest back-story  possible....

When I was little, my parents took my brother and I on a trip to The North Pole.  My Uncle John,  Aunt Robin, and my cousins went as well.  When we went to visit Santa he was on a break, and we got to see Mrs. Claus.

Apparently my dear brother was not going to tolerate that.  Later on in the day, he decided to go back and see Santa by himself, without telling anyone.  Not good when you are just a little guy.  We found him, eventually, hanging out with Santa, but not before my Aunt had started checking all of the ponds and water features, sure that he had fallen into one of them and drowned.

The point of this awesome story -- there is an amusement park in New York state for kids that is called The North Pole.  I even included the link above for your enjoyment.

Got it?  Good.  Keep that in mind as you read on.

My niece and nephew are here staying for a few weeks.  Here is a guide to the people involved in tonight's conversation:

L: My niece.  She is 10.
A: My nephew.  He is 5.
Mom:  My mother.  She would kill me if I listed her age.
Me:  That would be me.  And old enough.

This is the conversation that took place in the car earlier this evening.

A: I've never seen snow.
L: I have!
Mom: We know.
Me: Austin that's why you should tell your Daddy that you want to come visit in the winter!
L: For my birthday!!!!!
Me: I tried mailing you a can of snow for Christmas.  Did it work?
L: Sort of, but it didn't really feel like snow.

Kids are chatting in the back of the car...

Me: Maybe we should take him to The North Pole.  They had that cool ice pole thing that was there all year round!
Mom:  Did they have snow?  I don't remember.
Me: I remember Aunt Robin thought Brian had drowned somewhere.

A: I've been to the North Pole!
L: No you haven't!
A: Uh-huh!  I was there, and I saw Santa, and I was throwing snowballs at him and his midget clowns and...
Me:  Wait wait wait...what?  His midget clowns?!
A:  Yeah.  His midget clowns.
Me: You mean his elves?
A: Yeah -- his midget clowns.  The guys in the funny suits.  They hate children.

At this point I kind of checked out on the conversation.  I was laughing so hard about the "midget clowns" instead of elves that I never did hear why he thought that they hated children.

Rich People Problems (a Vassar Story)

*Based on a tiny sampling -- one family, really -- who happened to be sitting near me in the diner.

So I'm in the diner, eating a late lunch with my mother.  It was pretty busy, but nothing out of the norm.  This family comes in, and they get seated at the table right next to our booth.  First it is just 2 ladies, and someone who is one of their daughters. They are looking at the menu, getting settled in, and there was some big hubbub about looking at cakes.  Whatever.  Wasn't really paying attention to them at this point.

Now the Dad comes in.  He apparently has been on the phone with the daughter who is graduating from Vassar this weekend.  She is all upset.  Something about having forgotten Monday was a holiday, and she didn't plan things out right, and now she doesn't know what to do but she is afraid they will be mad at her because her mom is such a phenomenal planner, etc. etc.  Kerfuffle with the waiter about ordering the lunch specials, but can they get the sandwiches and just split the fries between them to be more healthy, blah, blah, blah.  (Waiter dude, I hope they leave you an enormous tip, because this table already seems like it is going to be high maintenance.)

So the family at the table discusses the poor planning problem for a bit, and they decide that the universe will work things out.  There is still room on their flight back to L.A. on Monday.  She can come with them, and she will have to pay for half of her ticket.

Now the daughter who is at the table gets up and says she will go do something.  I couldn't really hear her.  About a minute later she comes back with the chick who is graduating and freaking out over the phone to her father before.  WTF?!  She was outside this entire time?

But wait!  There's more!

So apparently she woke up this morning freaking out because she is graduating, and she will probably never see some of her friends again, and they had all packed up their bags and were loading their cars because they are driving home and live on the East coast, and she didn't know what to do.  Then, she had assumed they were all going to "like spend a week together at the Jersey Shore or at The Cape or somewhere", but all of her friends had decided to just go home after graduation, so her plans "totally fell through."  Then, she forgot that Monday was a holiday, so her assistant won't be there to help her get her belongings out.  (I have no idea what she means about having an assistant.  She's a freaking undergrad student.  Does Vassar give undergrads an assistant?  I assume she means RA in the dorms.)  Also, her friend from Idaho, "had totally packed most of her stuff up in her car and shipped it back home already.  Now she just has a little to take on the plane.  I didn't think to do that."  

Wait...what?

You have a car.  Why in the hell would your friend pack her car full of stuff and pay to have it shipped back to Idaho?  How the hell much stuff can she possibly have accumulated?  One of the beauty parts of having a car is that you can pack it full of shit and drive it to where you want to go.  This must be a rich person thing. I cannot even fathom why the hell you would ship a car home from college instead of driving it.

**At this point an Uncle arrives for lunch, complete with luggage.  He has just taken the train up from New York City.  "Business Class, of course.  Anything else is like being in one of those dirty trains in Calcutta where they pack you in like cattle."  Oh, and apparently the Book of Mormon is "pretty good", but he had some criticisms about the staging of that as well.  But the train ride up here is so beautiful, one of the best in the country.**

Moving on.  Our girl apparently has an apartment lined up in New York City, through a friend's family, but she can't move in until the beginning of June.  Ah ha!  Now I see where the poor planning is coming in!

The solution this family comes up with?  She will pack up her stuff, ship it home to L.A.  She will fly home with them on Monday and stay for a week.  They will worry about packing her stuff up and shipping back to New York after they get home.

For a week, people?  Seriously?  You must have more money than brains, the lot of you.  Do you have any idea how much it is going to cost to ship all of her crap to L.A., only to turn around and send it back a week later?  Why not pay to store it here somewhere?  Vassar will probably store it -- I know they let students rent rooms during the summer.  This makes absolutely no sense.

So the plan is apparently that she will be moving into an apartment on Park Avenue near 70th.  Her uncle asks if it is the size of the table. Hahaha.  Her mother is horrified and asks if it has at least 2 bedrooms.  Are you kidding me?  That's a pretty sweet deal to go directly from college to having your first apartment on Park Avenue.  Our girl informs her mother that it has a door man, "you know, like all buildings do."  Say what?

So now she is all about how great it is going to be, and she'll be the only one there for the summer before her friends move in later, and it will be great.  This is the chick who earlier in the meal, forget the rest of the day even, admitted to freaking out because her friends were leaving, and she was worried about flying home by herself or sitting next to a stranger on the plane.  I'm sure you'll be fucking fantastic living on your own in NYC.  Bonne chance!

Now here is the best part.  She is graduating with a major in art history.  Guess what job she has lined up to work at this summer?  You're never going to guess!  Bar back.  I almost guarantee she has no idea what the job entails.  I hope it is a really busy bar, or she better be getting one hell of a "friend of the family" discount on the rent for a place on Park Ave, especially when you are the only one living there to pay the bills all summer!

Next was a story from the uncle.  Apparently someone they all know, not sure if it is another relative or what, just bought a 2014 Porshe Cayman S.  Yes, it was because of the fender-bender in the M3, so had to get rid of that.  Kept the Range Rover though, so this is just the weekend car.

Conversation moved on to discussing graduation tomorrow.  Apparently they will be going to dinner later in Rhinebeck, "You know, the area where Chelsea Clinton got married."  Yeah.  They will be eating at The Beekman Arms because she wants "a really good steak."  Not to slam the Beekman Arms, but wouldn't be my first choice.  Did you check Yelp even?  I just Googled it, and they came up 7th of the restaurants in Rhinebeck.  This was followed up by a story about this epic party she was at last night, and there were so many people there that the floor broke. Also also?  "Bill Clinton is supposed to be coming to the area to speak somewhere next week.  It's too bad we have to fly home on Monday.  Maybe we could have gone and listened to him."

Then we had to hear stories about how you can ask any of her housemates, she is always the one that cleans the floor.  She doesn't like to do her dishes, but she always cleans the floor.  They have a mop and everything.  Hold up, right there.  I cannot even picture you mopping a floor.  Also, if you live in a house, presumably off campus then, who the hell is this assistant that was being discussed earlier on?  

And right before we finally left, the hubbub about the cakes was cleared up.  Apparently they needed to know what the cakes looked like because they were ordering two cakes for her graduation!  From the Dutchess Diner!  No disrespect to the diner by any means, but what the hell people?!  Not for nothing, but you all seem kind of snooty,  and it seems like your solution to most things is to throw money around.  Why in the world are you ordering cakes from the diner instead of The Pastry Garden, or the CIA, or Cafe Aurora, La Deliziosa, etc?  And please tell me you are not going to bring cakes from The Dutchess Diner to the Beekman Arms and ask them to serve them.  Wow.

That's not even all of it, just the highlights that I remember.  Thankfully we left, as I had about hit the end of my rope.  

Really? That's What You Are Opening With?

When you work with the public you get a lot of comments, as you can imagine.  Not all of them are nice.  I've been cursed out.  I thought a woman was going to deck me once she was so worked up when I told her she owed $1.  Yeah, $1.

My point is that you never know what is going to happen during a transaction.  You might ask someone how they are doing, and they will literally tell you exactly how well they are not doing. I'll never forget the time I had a woman start crying and telling me she had just had to put her dog to sleep.

You get the idea.  The response you get can be kind of a crapshoot.

Normally when a patron approaches the desk I like to start with, "Hello.  Can I help you?"  or something to that effect.  Nice, friendly, and you should get  a somewhat predictable answer:

1) Hello.  I need to _______.  (renew my book, pick up a hold, request a movie, etc.)

2) *pissed and angry*  I've got a problem with my account.

3) I forgot my card and need to use the internet.

That narrows it down, quite a bit, but everyone generally falls into one of those categories.  You can generally tell the ticked off patrons long before they tell you they are mad at you/the library/the world.

So, when I greeted a patron this afternoon, I was not expecting to get in reply, "Oh, so you do have arms."

Seriously?  Where the hell did that come from?

Me: Hello!  Can I help you?
Patron: Oh, so you do have arms.

What do you say to that?

-- Yup.  Thanks for noticing!
--I was born with them.
--So do you.  What is your point?
--What planet are you from?
--What are you smoking?
--You should probably not be driving right now, sir.

I chose to ignore the comment, check the patron out, and get him out of the building as fast as humanly possible...you know, using my two arms.

So bizarre.  You can't make this stuff up, I swear.

Thrift Shopping

A little reading music, to enhance the experience

I am a long-time fan of thrift shops, flea markets, garage sales, items left on people's lawns with "free" signs taped to them, etc.  My entire house has been furnished this way.  I wouldn't say that I am poor -- I have a full-time job, I'm not getting government assistance of any kind.  I like to call myself one of the "monetarily challenged" members of society.  I work, I pay my bills, but the dollar doesn't go as far as it used to so you have got to save where you can.  Hence, my love of thrift shops and upcycling items.

I scored three great things today!  One of them is so incredibly awesome that I fell in love with it immediately.  We'll save that for last, shall we?  Let the suspense build.

First, I found a cool denim vest/jacket thing at the SPCA thrift store.  Helping animals and getting new clothes -- bonus!  I think it might be for a guy, but it has pockets and is long enough to wear sort of like a tunic (well, on me it is, maybe not on taller folks).  Winning!

 Trying to get a full-length shot with the pockets, and failing

Excellent leather-feeling collar that pops up quite nicely

Next stop was a consignment shop in Hyde Park.  (I think I left consignment shops out of my list of ways I furnished my home.  My bad.  They are fantastic as well, no disrespect intended.)  The two most spectacular finds of the day were scored here.  

First, you should know that I collect nutcrackers.  I have an ever-growing family of them that I put out at Christmas time.  Today, I added a new member to the family:

Isn't she exquisite?

My mother wanted to know why I would want a nutcracker that was dressed like a drag queen.  Say what? Hello, it is obviously the Bride of Frankenstein!  Just look at her hair.

So obvious.

And now, prepare to be overwhelmed by an avalanche of awesomeness!  I fell in love with this little guy immediately!  I snatched him off of the shelf, and I may have been petting him as I continued looking through the store.  He is so fantastically adorable that I don't know how the seller could bear to part with him.

Is he not the cutest little yak you have ever seen? (It was labeled yak, that's how I know.)

OMG so cute and fuzzy!

Right now I have my new yak friend sitting on a shelf in a china cabinet.  I have to find him a safe place to live.  If I leave him out unprotected on a remotely cat-reachable area I know Jazz-kitty will maul him.  She redecorates things on a fairly regular basis.

That is a  good day's hunting.  Where else are you going to find such great things? 

And for those curious -- all together still under $20.