8.19.08 Brain Trust at the ‘brary

Category: Uncategorized

on Thursday at the ‘brary a lady called and asked if we have “Scarlet’s Letter”.

sigh. “ma’am, do you mean The Scarlet Letter?” i knew this because we get calls for it daily cos it’s on the required reading list for every damned school.

“ummm, it’s for my son’s class?”

“yes. it’s checked out.”

“you only have one copy?”

“no, we have several copies, but they’re all checked out. i can put it on reserve for you.”

“no he needs it today.”

“i’m sorry.”

“do you have it on CD?”

“that’s checked out as well.”

“is there a movie?”

“there is. and it, too, is checked out.”

“what am i gonna do?”

learn not to procrastinate? maybe?

there was a brainiac in yesterday (probably 15 years old) who asked, “how many movies on DVD can i check out?”

“the limit is three per card.”

“for DVDs?”

“yes, for all movies.”

“so i could get three DVDs and three videos?”

“no. you can only checkout three movies per card.”

“including DVDs?”

“why would that NOT include DVDs?”

“what?”

“you can only checkout three movies at a time.”

“if they’re on DVD?”

“if they’re on anything, DVD or tape the limit is three.”

“for movies?”

“yes.”

“well, can i-”

“look, if what you want to checkout is a moving, talking picture that you watch on a screen? you may checkout three of those AND ONLY THREE regardless of what kind of media it is.”

“what about-”

“you may checkout three DVDs OR two DVDs and a tape, OR one DVD and two tapes, OR three tapes.”

“i’ve picked out 5 DVDs.”

“then you must put two back and get them next time.”

“oh.”

what’s that? YOU’re about to have brain aneurysm? and you totally feel for me? well thanks, but don’t make your brain ‘splode yet.

a minute later he and his mom come up to the desk and tell me, “we’ve decided not to check any DVDs out. we couldn’t find anything we liked.”

NOW you can let your brain ‘splode.

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39. You Want Fries With That?: A White Collar Burnout Experiences Life at Minimum Wage by Prioleau Alexander

Category: 50 Books

39. You Want Fries With That?: A White Collar Burnout Experiences Life at Minimum Wage by Prioleau Alexander

This is in the same vein as Morgan Spurlock’s 30 Days show, only not as serious. In fact, Mr. Alexander is pretty funny. He quits his great paying job as a creative director for an ad agency (i think that’s what it was) because it’s a job filled with ass kissing and bullshit, and he was sick of it. So he decides to work some shitty minimum wage jobs and write a book about it.

Some of the jobs he tries out are Pizza Dude, Burger Joint Dude, Construction Dude, ER tech Dude, Ice cream Shop Dude, and even Cowboy Dude. He comes to find out that really, the worst part of these kinds of jobs? the public.

Don’t I know it.

He makes fun of the public pretty good. I will warn you that his ER tech story is pretty gross. In fact, I can’t get it out of my head, and I didn’t actually see it, you know? So if you’re grossed out pretty easily you may want to skip the couple of pages where he works at the hospital. You’ve been warned.

It was an enjoyable read, but it just wasn’t that in depth, or serious. It read more like a “My Summer Vacation” essay or something. Maybe it was supposed to? I don’t know. He didn’t really get into the financial part of it, and I think it would have benefitted the book if he had. I mean, you work minimum wage jobs for a year and have to pay bills, that’s hard as hell. But you work minimum wage jobs for a year and you have a nest egg and your wife works a good paying job, that’s not really that hard. It still sucks to work with the public and get paid peanuts, but you’re not having to worry about the car payment or insurance.

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38. The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer

Category: 50 Books

38. The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer

This book is why I haven’t read anything (well, anything else) in two weeks. I finally finished it. I feel as though I’ve won a contest with myself; the damn thing was 1056 pages.

This book is in the same vein as Capote’s In Cold Blood (my favorite true crime book), but while Capote calls his a nonfiction novel Mailer calls his a true life novel. Seems like the same thing to me however, at my ‘brary In Cold Blood is in the nonfic section and The Executioner’s Song is in fiction so… there you go.

I thought The Executioner’s Song was very well-written, which is probably why I stuck with it. It’s the story of Gary Gilmore, the guy who had been in prison most of his life, got out for 8 months, murdered two young Mormon guys, and got the death penalty. I knew I would enjoy the first half of the book where it talks about Gary’s life,  but I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy the second half of the book that deals mostly with the trial and the execution shenanigans.

I say shenanigans not about capital punishment, but about Gilmore’s situation. Basically, he was tried and convicted on Murder One charges and got the death penalty (which had not been done in ten years) and so Gilmore goes with it and requests it be done by firing squad. And he waived his right to appeal. So when Gilmore calls the State of Utah on it people freak out and try to appeal for him to slow down the execution. That’s what I mean by shenanigans.

Like I said, it’s well-written. All of the people in the book have their own personalities, and every paragraph that they “star” in has their personality in that paragraph. I know that’s the worst description of anything ever, but that’s the best way I can explain it. Uncle Vern, for example, is old and very hard-working. He’s honest. And every paragraph with him in it has his earnestness all over it. It was amazing because the paragraphs are choppy and skip around from person to person and you’d think that’d make for some difficult reading or at the very least be annoying as all get out, but it wasn’t.

I will warn you though, the book is depressing but not how you’d think. Of course the senseless murders are sad, but that’s not really the main focus of the book. It’s everyone’s lives. It’s as if the whole thing was hopeless since the beginning. Nicole’s situation is sad and on one hand I hate her; she sucks as a mom. But on the other hand she had a history of sexual abuse that no one took care of and is in fact, still just a kid herself (what, was she 19? 20?). And here comes Gilmore and attaches himself to her and there goes the rest of her life.

It seems like most of the people had this same duality. You’d hate them one minute and then feel pathos for them the next, even Gilmore. I never felt bad for him, I never thought it was unfair for him to die, but I did feel that he never had a chance for living a life outside of prison (having no impulse control will do that). Mailer, I think, tries to make him more human, to show the part of Gilmore that could love deeply, who was highly intelligent, who could write poetry and draw masterfully. But Mailer wasn’t so insulting as to pull the wool over our eyes, cos quick as he’d show the softer side of Gilmore something would invariably come up to show the complete bastard side of Gilmore.

Schiller comes off as a real slimeball for most of the book. But then towards the end when it’s obvious that Gilmore is (finally) going to be executed, you see Schiller start to fall apart and admit he doesn’t want Gary dead even though he’d make a hell of a lot more money with Gilmore dead than if the state somehow found a reason not to execute him. You see Schiller (and most of the others) getting physically ill the closer they get to Gilmore’s execution, and it bogs the reader down as well.

So, great writing, interesting yet terribly depressing story, and I gotta admit, I really want to know what happened to Nicole and her kids. I feel like a nosy grandma for wanting to know, but yeah, I want to know.

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8.13.08 RockstarRoxy Roo and the Runaway Railcars

Category: dribblings

i took Roxy to the vet yesterday. it was time for her yearly check-up, vaccinations, and probing.

we used a different vet this time. i loved the old vet, but since i’ve moved to the ‘burbs this vet is much closer. also, i thought a change might do Roxy some good. see, she’s the best dog ever. great dog. most mild mannered dog i’ve ever owned. but take her to the vet and she becomes a tazmanian devil who does her best to get away and run from the vet building and straight into highway traffic.

so i figured we’d try a new building and catch her off guard.

we got to the new place and she got out of the car and was all, “hey! here i am! what the-” and then immediately tried to get back in the car. dad grabbed her and basically picked her up/dragged her to the vet’s office heimlich style. her head was even with his head and her legs were dragging the ground.
dog is huge.
it was actually the smoothest vet drop off ever.

so she was getting her yearlies and some grooming done. i talked to the groomer personally, which was nice. since it’s august i didn’t really want to get her summer cut (shaved all over) and the groomer agreed. she siad she’d thin her out, and i asked that she shave a bit behind Roxy’s ears cos she gets these matted parts behind her ears and i know that can’t feel good.

also, Roxy’s right front paw had been giving her trouble since friday so i asked that when the vet does all the stuff that he check the paw too. then i left to Roxy’s big brown puppy eyes all, “et tu, bitch?”

the lady at the counter was all, “she’s just here for a check-up?” and i was all, “yeah. and i need some heartgard and frontline for the ol’ girl too.” and she actually went, “cha-ching!”
which is what i was saying to myself in my head.

i was able to pick her up around 3:30pm. she was so clean and fluffy and very happy to see me and also her toe was bleeding a bit. what?

apparently she had an infected toe claw thing. so they (and this is so gross and painful i’m sure) ripped it out. I KNOW! ME TOO! and now she’s got this bloody white thing sticking out where her regular black toe nail would be. she’s to get antibiotics twice a day.

the total? $263.75. cha-ching, indeed. dammit, that’s diggin’ in to my beer money.

needless to say, Princess Roxy has been in the house since she got home. laying on her pillow and being awesomely herself. you can tell she doesn’t feel well (what with all the drugs in her system… and the bloody toe nail bone!). but she still wags her tail at me so that’s good.

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8.11.08 ‘brary tales

Category: dribblings

we have a Voldemort at the ‘brary.

in fact, i’m willing to bet that EVERY library, bookstore, videostore, or other public place each has their own Voldemorts, perhaps even two or three per.

now, what i mean by Voldemort is not some evil wizard who is out to kill child wizards. nay, that shit would be reportable. what i mean is, there’s a patron who is a royal pain in the neck (wants us to break the computer rules for him, he listens to music on his headphones so loud we can hear it at the circ. desk, he prints things out and then wants to pay for them “next time”… just all around douchebaggery.), and it never fails that if one of us mentions his name that later on that day he magically shows up and graces us with his shitty presence.

thus is the power of Voldemort.
so we’ve taken to calling him “he-who-must-not-be-named”. of course, that only works if you’re not an idiot like me.

coworker: you know, he-who-must-not-be-named hasn’t been here in a while. i wonder why we’ve been so lucky?

me: who? oh, you mean Voldemort?

coworker: shh! …great.

me: damn! sorry. maybe this time it won’t work. i mean do you really believe…

coworker: how could you? what’s the matter with you?

me: sorry, really. i wasn’t even thinking.

coworker: sigh.

me: but really, what are the odds that he’ll come in?

coworker: now? 100%.

me: oh come on.

an hour later… in walks Voldemort.

me: ho.lee.shit.

coworker: yeah, and he’s all yours.

me: fine.

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8.10.08 birthdays and ‘brary stories

Category: dribblings

happy birthday dad and kelly!

remember the book search from a couple of days ago? well we had another one yesterday. only that one was solved because the patron called someone (finally) to get the title. however, before she called someone we went ’round and ’round for 13 minutes like this:

lady: hey, i’m looking for a book that you have.

me: what’s the title?

lady: something about the marketing of America.

me: …okay.

so i do a few searches and nothing “sounds” right to her.

me: anything else about this book you could tell me?

lady: it’s new! it’s a new book and i’m positve that it has America in the title, Something of America.

me: and you’re sure we have it?

lady: yes, my husband saw it here and we talked about it last week and i wanted to check it out for him.

me: okay, i’m going to search all of the books we’ve catalogued in 2008 with America in the title.

so i do the search and nothing in the search is anything even close to being right. meanwhile one of my coworkers does a search on amazon and comes up with nil as well. the lady keeps insisting that it’s new and that we have it and that it has “of America” in the title. finally, after checking GPL’s online catalogue (i thought maybe she had seen the book there and not at ours) we can’t find anything that “sounds” right. she calls her husband.

i know. i thought maybe the husband was at work or somewhere he couldn’t be bothered or WHY ELSE WOULD YOU NOT HAVE CALLED HIM FIRST INSTEAD OF WASTING MY LIFE. but no, that’s part of my job.

she comes back all, “it’s called The Marketing of Evil.”

yeah, i know, there’s no America at all. and? it was published in 2005. not exactly a new one, right? i mean, compared to Dickens it’s new, but whatevs. i think this proves that our memory cannot be trusted.

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8.07.08 Patronanigans

Category: dribblings

Dear Lady Who Yelled Out, “These assholes won’t let me on the innernet!” on Your Way out of the ‘brary,

Do you feel better now?

Did you get it all out of your system?

Do you realize that you referred to us as assholes because you were mad that we wouldn’t break the rules for you, princess? Sorry, but it’s a RULE. You were trying to use your husband’s card to access the patron computers. Too bad you didn’t know how. You probably could have gotten away with it if you’d known how. But it’s really not a big deal. All you need is YOUR OWN LIBRARY CARD.

And when you told us you didn’t have one we politely asked if you’d like to get one.

They’re free.

All you have to do is fill out your name and address, basically. We could have made you a library card in LESS than a minute. In a minute and a half you could have been surfing the “innernet” to your heart’s content. But no, princess. For some reason you huffed and puffed, freaked out, called someone on your cell phone, and yelled that we were assholes. Now, is that the proper response to the question, “Would you like to have your own library card? It won’t take a minute.”

I wish the door would’ve hit you on your ass on your way out,

jpj

****

i know it’s terribly hot out, you guys. we’re all feeling it. it’s making people crazy, and i get that. but damn, talk about a short fuse.

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8.06.08 WTF Wednesday

Category: dribblings

the other day at the ‘brary (shut up, justin. i know.) we had a patron at the desk who was trying to remember a book she had read years ago.

this happens all the time. and i love helping people find their favorite books. but MOST of the time it doesn’t end with a happy ending/favorite book reunion. it mostly ends up with a “christ, that was the longest 8 minutes of my life.”

because usually it goes down like this:

“i was wondering if you could help me find a book.”

“sure, whatcha need?” (note the professionalism.)

“well, i can’t remember then name of the book.”

“…okay.”

“but i LOVED it. it was SO GOOD.”

“right. who wrote it?”

“i’m not sure.”

of course you’re not. it’s your favorite book and you loved it so much that the title and author’s name didn’t seem worth noting. next.

“do you remember anything about the book?”

“it was about baseball.”

“okay, was it a biography or nonfiction?”

“it wasn’t a biography.”

“okay, so was it fiction or nonfiction?”

“what do you mean?”

“what i mean is, was it a true story or a made-up story?”

“oh! hahaha, it was fiction. sorry.”

“that’s okay, so what we have is a baseball story. can you think of ANYthing else?”

“well, the author has recently written something on the bestseller list, and when i saw his name it reminded me of that baseball book and i just wanted to read it again. i’m sorry, i know i’m not helping.”

“actually, that helps a lot. here’s a list of the bestsellers for this month. do you recognize the author’s name?”

“…no, it’s not on here.”

“well, that’s weird.”

“it might not have been a bestseller list. maybe i just saw it on something that had books that were coming out soon.”

“uh huh. so in the baseball book, what happens?”

“this kid gets hit in the head by a baseball, and… i can’t really remember anything else.”

“well, i’m looking up baseball as the subject… and all the fiction stuff is just kid’s books.”

“no, it wasn’t a kid’s book.”

she also said that the book was old, but when i asked her how old she didn’t answer. i was all, “did you read it in the last 10 years?” again no answer. she left empty handed but said if she remembered it she’d give us a call.

you can see how futile it is sometimes, right? but honestly, that lady gave us more to go on than a lot of people do. i’ve had someone ask, “hey, what was that book i read and liked so much?”

“i… don’t know?”

“can you look it up on my card?”

“do you have it checked out right now?”

“no.”

“then no, i can’t. it won’t be on your card.”

“can’t you go back and see whatall i’ve checked out?”

“no, i’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”

“well, it was a small book.”

“…”

“and i think the cover was red. or orange.”

and that’s it. that’s all they remember. a color that was on the cover.

needless to say, we don’t always solve the mystery.

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8.01.08 bonus ‘brary blog

Category: dribblings

i’m still, STILL, shocked by the public everyday.
what is it about paying your library fine that you have a problem with?
cos i? i don’t have a problem with it. you’re late? i don’t care. it’s no skin off my back. i don’t even care what your excuse is, it’s none of my business anyway. hell, you can keep the book out as long as you want as long as you ACTUALLY return it at some point and THEN pay the fine.

here’s what i hate. when someone returns a bunch of vidoes and they’re late. i hate that. because videos are $1 per day late. now, they max out at $5 each, right? and they can only check out 3 videos per card so the max fine on that would be $15, even if they’re a whole year late. now, if you’ve checked out 3 vids on the same day and wind up with a fine over $10 (on just the videos, if you’ve got books it changes the math a bit) we’ll waive part of the fine so that you only have to pay $10. i know, we’re sweet like that. so basically you’re getting 3 vidoes for over a week for $10.

WHAT IS THE FUCKING PROBLEM, LADY?

if you’d have brought them back on time you’d have gotten them for free, hag. but you didn’t. so pay up, sucka.

you’d give Blockbuster your money without bitching about it. why are you all up in my face about YOUR FINES? and don’t give me any kind of bullshit either, i’ve heard it all and i don’t care.

oh, and? let me give you guys a tip, m’kay? if you’re ever trying to make excuses about why your shit is late (and like i’ve said, we don’t care unless your house burned down, car was stolen, or there’s sickness or a death in the family.) DON’T EVEN try to use “we were on vacation” as your excuse. because that only pisses us off.

i had a lady come in and she was all, “my books are a little bit late.”

“okay.” i start scanning them.

“we were on vacation. so, if i have to pay a fine on them that’s okay.”

what do you mean “if”? i finish scanning them in and say, “your fine is $9.00.”

“WHAT?! NINE DOLLARS?! WHY?!”

“you had 10 books checked out and they were nine days late. it’s ten cents a day per book.”

“WHAT?!”

“you owe ninety cents per book. they were nine days late.”

“but i was on vacation!”

“yes, but the library wasn’t. you could have called the library and renewed your books over the phone.”

“do i have to pay it today?”

“do you want to check out any books today?”

“yes.”

“then you have to pay it today.”

she ended up paying, but she wasn’t happy about it. it was one of those deals where she threw the money on the countertop. i don’t know what the problem was really. she knew they were late and the date due stickers are HUGE. i guess she’s not good at math? or thought that we’d waive her fines cos she was on vacation?

and you know what slays me? i mean SLAYS ME? repeat offenders.
and i don’t mean people who are always late with their books. i was always late with my books before i worked at the ‘brary. i’m talking about people who are always late and then always freak out over having to pay a fine. it’s your own fault, toolbag! just pay your fine and move on, YOU’RE the only one making a big deal about it.

ugh, i hope i don’t sound unreasonable. those two hags ticked me off. and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad but we get hags like that all the time.

of course, we get other people who come in and are all, “these books are late! i’m so sorry!”
and their fine is really small and within the limit that you’re still allowed to check out books and we’ll say, “oh you can get it next time if you want.” but they freak out all, “no way! i’ll go ahead and pay it so i won’t have to worry about it.” worry about owing the ‘brary thirty cents? really? you’re awesome!

oh! but! i have another ‘brary story for you!

this old guy was in the other day (he had a hobo-ness to him) and he was sitting at a table reading this book. after about an hour he came up to the desk and was all, “how much is this book?”
it was a booksale book, so don’t laugh yet. i told him it was twenty-five cents.
“that’s a good deal,” he said.

“i think so too,” i replied.

“i don’t have any money on me right now.”

“well, i could hold it for you up here at the desk, and you could come back for it later on today.”

“i’m visiting from out of town. and this is my last day.”

“no kidding?”

“i tell you what i could do. i could take the book with me, and mail you the money. do you have a card or something with the address on it?”

“let me get this right, i let you take the book?”

“yes.”

“and you’re going to mail the money back to us?”

“yes. when i get home.”

“you’re going to mail us a quarter?”

“i’ll put it in some paper and then put it in an envelope with your address on it.”

“the quarter?”

“yeah, i’ll put the quarter in some paper.”

“you know what? …sure, that’ll be fine.”

“okay, thank you!”

“you’re welcome. have a nice day.”

“you too.”

so he leaves, and i put a quarter in the booksale money. he comes back in and i figure he’s found a quarter or something. he comes up and says, “by the way, my name is John Smith.*”

“hi John, i’m Jaimie.”

“no, so when you get the mail you’ll know it’s from me.”

“oh right. of course.”

and he leaves again.

i figure no harm no foul. it was a quarter. if he’d wanted a whole box of books then i may not have been so generous, right? but there’s no way i could begrudge a hobo a book.

so days pass and i get to work one afternoon, and there on the desk is a piece of notebook paper with a small note written on it and a quarter taped to it. i was all, “holy cow! he really mailed it!” and everyone was all, “do you know about this?!” because i guess no one else was around when he was talking me into letting him take the book. and when the letter came everyone was really confused because who mails a quarter?
i thought it was pretty awesome that he kept his word though.

*his name was not John Smith.

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8.01.08 hi justin! jerkface.

Category: dribblings

my leetle brahther and seester-in-law have the internet now.  look, i know, but they just got cable like, a couple of months ago, so this is huge, right? and no, they don’t live in a hut in the australian outback.

so anyway, i asked li’l bro if he’d seen the new fleegan.com and he was all, “yeah, i read a couple of your stories.”

“st-”

“but it was all the same thing over and over.”

“wh-”

*whiny muppet voice* “oh, i’m jaimie and i had to work today.”

“heh.”

“oh, and this is what someone said to me.”

“hee.”

“oh and here i am having to go somewhere. and look! something happens!”

i hate it when that shithead is right.

he was in the high school marching band. he played sax. and yeah, there was a big fluffy plume in his band hat.
*whiny muppet voice* “hi, i’m justin. and i’m barely clever enough to maintain a myspace page. i wish i was awesome like my beeg seester, but i’m not.”

smackdown!

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