It's a Crime

One our library's best customers is a lady who's getting on a bit, likes a ciggie (judging by the smell of the books when she returns them) and reads a lot of crime novels. When I say a lot, I mean she takes out around ten or twelve on a Saturday and brings them back on a Thursday. Naturally, this means she's read just about every crime novel we've ever had in the history of crime novels, but she gets Very Angry when she can't find anything she hasn't already read.

'Utterly ridiculous,' she tutted and huffed yesterday, twirling the spinners round in an agitated fashion while I was trying to shelve. 'I've read all these, duck,' she said to me, when I accidentally caught her eye. 'I miss your table.' She looked longingly at the space that used to house a display of New Arrivals until it was deemed to be In The Way. Maybe she thought new crime novels materialised overnight, by supernatural means.

'Maybe you should try some of our other branches?' I suggested.

'I 'ave duck,' she said calmly. 'Read 'em all.'

'Would you fancy trying something different?'

'Like what?' She looked at me, outraged. 'I know what I like,' she said affronted. 'But it's very hard to find in this lot.' She gestured at the library in general and that, dear reader, is where I cut my losses and fled. I've had the conversation before, and it didn't end well then.

The fact is, she's read so many crime novels that the authors simply can't keep up with her.

I mention it on the off-chance that one of you might be writing a crime novel. Could you please finish it, publish it and get it to me by next Thursday please?

I'm scared she might be planning some crime of her own involving me, some handcuffs and possibly a couple of cigarette ends.

Back at the coal face

(Sadly, not me.)

Feeling much better now, thanks for your lovely comments, and working overtime at the library again. Sigh. As much as I'd love to turn it down with a languid flap of the hand, I can't. Not with the economy throwing its toys out of the pram every five seconds.

Still, at least I wasn't being asked to assemble a crack team of resistance fighters to rescue a British agent from behind enemy lines using my feminine wiles, before assassinating the head of Nazi counter-intelligence, like Sophie Marceau in the brilliant Female Agents, which I watched at the weekend. Essentially I'm just returning and issuing books. But still.

I've noticed that the library is nowhere near as busy as it was a few years ago. We've been asked to suggest ways to tempt people in, but as I'm sure I've said before I think you're either the sort of person who uses the library or you're not. I'm not convinced wizardry of any kind will entice people in. I did put forward a case for home-made cake and lashings of tea, but that was for me. While I thought about it.

I still haven't come up with an answer.

Talk talk

I did a marathon library-working session on Friday - four hours in my usual branch followed by five hours in a smaller one, and it struck me afterwards how different the staff conversations were in each.

In library A there're a lot of us - ages ranging from twenty-two upwards (I'm the twenty-two year old in case you were wondering.) A couple of sample conversations from Friday:

1) "If we still lived in Victorian times, I wonder what we'd all be doing?"

"You'd have several children by now."

"I'd have died in childbirth."

"We'd be upper-class, so I wouldn't be working. I'd have servants."

"I'm going to marry a rich man."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

2) "I've got this great recipe - melt a 400g chocolate bar, put it in a baking tin crumble four chocolate digestives in, no more than four or it goes wrong, add two bags of white chocolate buttons and two bags of maltesers - or you could make it healthier with nuts and cherries but I perfer chocolate - and leave it in the fridge to cool. It's gorgeous, I could live on it. I've got another one as well...."

"I'm having a heart attack just listening. But, go on."

In Library B, there were just the two of us - ladies of a similar age (twenty-two obviously) :

1) "Ooh, that's a nice cardi!"

"Oh thanks! M&S. They're good aren't they?"

"I don't know. I tried some jumpers on recently, but the sizing's all wrong."

"There's home-made cake by the way, so help yourself when you go down for your tea-break.

"Ooh, lovely!"

2) "Can't believe the clocks go back tomorrow."

"I know. It'll soon be Christmas."

"I'm just popping down to make some tea."

"Why don't you bring the cake back up with you?"

I enjoy working in both branches for different reasons, but did you, per-chance, spot the common thread running through both conversations??? And it's by no means unusual. (What do you mean NO?)

I wonder what men talk about at work?

Outraged of Tunbridge Wells

Occasionally a library book will upset a customer due to its, ahem...content. I remember an elderly woman shouting about unnecessary references to the male member in what she'd assumed was a harmless story about horses. She thought it should be removed in case it fell into the wrong hands (the book not the male member, for heaven's sake.)

Of course we're not there to make judgements about the stories on them there shelves, but common sense prevails. We're not allowed to stock men's magazines like Zoo and Nuts due to the proliferation of brazen hussies lolling on the covers in frosted lipstick (and not much else), and ex Big Brother contestants talking about getting mobbed in nightclubs and having boob jobs - which is fair enough. But we can hardly go through all the books, scribbling out rude words.

Once, someone kindly stuck a Post-it note inside a book, pointing out various uses of the F-word and which passages to avoid, which was quite thoughtful. Customers have ripped out pages they've found repellent before now, which isn't so good. Especially for the reader left wondering what happened and whether they're going to get blamed.

Today's offender was Crown Jewels in the Sun by Nora Roberts. On pages 104 and 105 someone had written in pen, "for gods sake", "kick him in the balls" and "ugh!!" as the heroine was taken masterfully by the rather overbearing hero. We couldn't work out if the reader was a feminist horrified by such boorish behaviour, or someone who prefers decent writing. (Mee-OW!)

Or an ex-editor perhaps....

Anyway, the writing style rather reminded me of the Mills and Boons I used to devour as a teenager, when men were forever "thrusting their manhood" at a lady's "sex."

I don't know how I survived in the real world.

The Wheels on the Bus have fallen off...

Horror of horrors, I was asked to assist with the aforementioned Bounce & Rhyme session at t'other library this morning. Unable to fake my own death - or even feign deafness - at such short notice, I had no choice but to help.

Don't get me wrong, I like children ( I used to be one) but I prefer them in small doses. Children en-masse scare the M&S support pants off me and, like animals, they can sense it. As soon as their beady little eyes settled on me knowingly, I guessed there'd be trouble.

Sure enough, as soon as the Big Story Book came out they started swarming all over it, snatching and pawing while I peeled them off one by one, horribly aware of the Mums weighing me up. Also, I had no idea how hard it would be to keep a smile pinned on with a Full Nappy under my nostrils.

Luckily, there was no sign of Experimental Mum today so there was no bashing, but Chav Mum was in full flow, charming her neighbour with tales of her 'arsehole' boyfriend, which were actually quite interesting (he's a 'waste 'o space, but a kid needs a farver). Her son, meanwhile, was being a bear - clawing the air with his hands and making horrid growling noises throughout Old MacDonald Had a Farm (ee-i-ee-i-oh-my-god-make-it-stop.)

The manager signalled something to me with her eyes, which I hoped meant 'Let's get outta this joint,' but actually meant Time to Open the Fun Box (matron). Out came the cuddly toys and rattles, followed by a fracas over who should have what and why and plenty of 'ooh be careful, you could have someone's eye out with that loves.' Songs n' Actions was rounded off with a fist fight as we wrestled the toys back into the Not-so-Fun-Anymore Box, because they're Not Allowed to take them home.

In the middle of all this merriment - somewhere between belting out Ten Green Bottles and longing for a trapdoor to open - someone wanted a poo, someone needed a nappy change, someone screamed blue murder, someone tried to poke my eye out, someone thwanged DVD's all over the floor, someone made a break for the door, someone asked me for my watch and someone had a nervous breakdown.

Thank God it's all over 'til after the summer holidays.

Noise pollution

Talking of not shushing people in the library (I was! See earlier post...) I had to laugh today at just how far the other way things have gone.

For instance, our branch has just undergone a long-overdue facelift (wanted one myself, but they'd run out of emulsion) which has entailed weeks of sawing, drilling, sandpapering, swearing, painting, cups of tea, whistling and hammering. Cheeky Chappies have been looming at windows left, right and centre, scaring the (incontinence) pants off the pensioners and causing Tutting to treble. Many a Catherine Cookson has been sent clattering to the floor in alarm. 'Can't they do it at night?' someone grumbled. Probably not a good idea. Due to the darkness, Madam.

It does look a lot better though.

Then we've had norty children charging in, shouting "BOGIES!!" and charging out again, unaware that this Dick and Dom inspired lunacy is sooooo last year, dahling. Adult murmurings were overheard.
'In my day...'
'...smacked arse...'
'...why aren't the buggers at school?..'
'...no discipline...'

And that was just me. Boom boom.

In a different branch, the Bounce & Rhyme session (stories and sing-a-longs for mums and toddlers, in case you're wondering, NOT something Iffy) got COMPLETELY out of control. A mother I privately call Experimental Mum lost control of her daughter who bashed Chav Mum's son over the head, activating one of those screams that begins with a breath held for sooo long you start dialling 999 until the noise kicks in, whereupon you drop the phone and run for cover. Several toddlers made a dash for freedom, running lopsidedly round and round the library while their mums thundered after them, red-faced and furious. Experimental Mum tried to reason with her 2-year old (which we all know is completely pointless) forcing her to apologise to the boy she'd hit in a grating 'I'm Super-Mum, watch and learn' voice, prompting Chav Mum to say 'I don't care abart 'er saying sorry, just keep 'er away from my kid, yeah?' from which there is no dignified comeback. EM left in a flurry of cheesecloth and Umbrage and everyone sighed with relief. Throughout it all the library manager just kept on singing, "The Wheels on the Bus" bless her. She looked like she needed a stiff one after she'd finished. Not to mention a drink.

I tell you, sometimes it's nice to get home for a bit of peace and quiet.

Anger management

I’ve worked in three different branches now, and it’s official. The library staff hate the New System nearly as much as the customers do. The trouble is, we’re fed-up now of fielding the same complaints day after day. Minute after minute, actually. To the point where I’ve developed an Inner Dialogue that goes something like this…

Customer 1: I couldn’t find my receipt, so I couldn’t remember when my DVDs were due back. I’m not paying the fine, it wasn’t my fault.
Me : Don’t worry, Madam. It’s a common problem at the moment. You won’t be charged this time.
Thinks…Tell you what, love. Why don’t you take all the bloody DVDs out and just don’t bother bringing them back ever, and we’ll give you a medal. Does that sound fair?

Customer 2 : I’ve written the date inside my library books even though we’re not supposed to, because I wouldn’t have remembered when to bring them back otherwise.
Me: That’s okay. It’ll be a bit confusing for the next customer though. Maybe you could write the date on your calendar in future?
Thinks… To be honest, spud-face, I couldn’t give a flying crab-cake. Do what you want with your chuffing books. Tear the pages out and make them into doilies for all I care. Just don’t speak to me ever again.

Customer 3 : I absolutely hate your new system.
Me : Well! You’re not the only one! Would you like to fill in a complaint form?
Thinks…Morning to you too, Mrs Blobby. You obviously met misery a long time ago and let it move in. And it’s not MY ruddy system…

Customer 4: What’s the point of spending money on a new system, when you haven’t got any new books in?
Me: Well, there’s a bit of a backlog at the moment, but new stock is starting to filter through!
Thinks…What’s the point of you bringing your child in here to writhe on the floor screaming until you leave? Madam. Or trying to look cross when you’ve had Botox?

Manager : So! Have you got used to the New System then?
Me : Oh! Er, yes, yes..getting there. (Smiles weakly)
Thinks... I got used to it two weeks ago. It’s still s***.

It’s only a matter of time before something Slips Out…

Teething troubles

It's safe to say that, so far, the new library system has gone down like a lead balloon.

Actually, it's not safe to say. The Powers That Be would be very angry if they knew I was dissing it. Weirdly, I was very positive initially. Apart from the demise of the date-stamp of course. I could see how the catalogue was going to look better (like Amazon) and that sending emails to let customers know their books were in, and being able to easily re-new and make reservations online at home was a great idea.

And it is. In theory. In an office, or in the computer-based Study Centre upstairs, the new system is Grand. Trouble is, a large portion of our customers are elderly and don't have a computer. They don't like the new receipt system. I'm not being ageist. I know lots of elderlies CAN work computers perfectly well -I'm just relating my experience on Saturday.

Customers couldn't understand why we had to change things. They got cross. The system seems much slower than before. We have to keep staring at the screen, and waiting and pressing buttons. Someone shouted at us. We got hot and bothered and had to take our cardigans off. A customer asked why we'd spent thousands of pounds of tax-payers money unnecessarily, then got fed-up half-way through the explanation and walked out. Somebody asked why we were producing more bits of paper when there's a worldwide hoo-ha about recycling. I found myself sympathising and got told off. Like a schoolgirl slagging off a new teacher. 'You haven't given it a chance!' Sigh.

We will get used to it. We'll have to. And so will the customers. But right now, things are a Little Bit Awkward at the library.

RIP datestamp

Yesterday was the last day we shall ever use the datestamp in the library. Oh little datestamp, how I love thee. T'is the end of an era. I tried to save you, my friend.

"What will we do if the Brand New System goes off-line?" I said.
"It won't," they said. (Yeah, right).
"There might be a power-cut," I said.
"We'll write it down," they said. Quite heartlessly, I thought.
"We can put one in a drawer," I said. "Just in case."
"We'll be chucking them away," they said. With a hint of glee.

So, it's with a heavy heart little datestamp, that I bid you farewell. You gave me minutes of innocent fun. I enjoyed smashing your little head down. Especially when I was in a Mood. No offence.

R.I.P.

Library eye-candy

The library I work in is due a much needed face-lift (aren't we all), which should be happening sometime in the next, ooooh....ten years, but it's going to need more than a splash of Magnolia to compete with these world-wide beauties, spotted here.

Canada

Australia

Boston


Dublin

New York

Paris

Maryland, USA

Manchester

Prague

That picture at the bottom is a dead-ringer for our living room. Not. Imagine the cleaning though...

End of an Era

"Personally, I think they've taken this electronic thing too far ..."

I'm sure I've mentioned before that the library I work in is being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century. (Stop yawning, I can see you). Anyway, I've gone on record as saying lots of these changes are Positive Steps.

Major market research has shown that the public wants better locations, 7 day opening, better books and more access to the Internet and who are we to argue with The Public? I'm not sure who did the research. I've an image of a helmet-haired woman in navy, wielding a clipboard, but that might be the soup. I've just drunk two mugs full and it's gone to my head. (Broccoli and spinach in case you're interested - I'm trying to offset my recent chocolate frenzy).

Apparently, bookshops have taken the lead in marketing and how to present their wares and libraries can learn a lot from them, which makes sense. The library is a business, at the end of the day, blah, blah blah. That's not a technical phrase, but trying to work out the mechanics makes my brain hurt.

ANYWAY, that's all well and good. Better books, nice displays, Internet access, faxing your granny in Australia, downloading CDs onto your MP3 player. Fine. No problemo. (Don't tell anyone about the downloading though.)

But, here's the crunch. The ONE THING I thought libraries could never replace - and would be brought to their knees without - was the humble date-stamp. They've been around forever (probably) and, to be honest, when I started working at the library the thing I was looking forward to most was making that satisfying 'thunking' noise. Or was it more of a 'ker-chink'? I was even looking forward to using a date-stamp.....(ooh you're such a joker - Ed.)

Well, it turns out, they can. Function without them. And very soon, they will be doing. When a customer takes out a book, using our New Fangled system, they'll be given a receipt from one of these babies instead -
Very Tesco's non?

All well and good in theory, but - I don't know about you - I'm rubbish with receipts. They pile up in my purse 'til it won't shut, then I have a chucking out ceremony, with tea and cakes, and realise two days later that I've thrown out the one I needed for that thing that's gone wrong/gone off/or didn't fit.

I can't imagine the state the customers are going to be in. I'm actually considering date-stamping their arms as a reminder, but that'll mean they won't be able to wash properly and we don't want (any more) smelly customers coming in. I don't know what it all means, or what the world's coming to quite frankly.

I think I need a sit-down and some more (or should it be less?) soup.

Library fatigue

At work today, an elderly customer looked across the library at a small child running amok with a full nappy (judging by the smell), while his mum cackled with her friends in a corner and took no notice. 'Haven't libraries changed?' she said wistfully.

They have. And that's a Good Thing mostly. They're less stuffy - more user-friendly - than they were in the Olden Days, but people still expect a certain code of conduct in a library.

What they do expect to see are -

a) Smiling, friendly and helpful staff. I think we've shaken off our image of fusty, bun-haired fogies in hairy cardigans (and that's just the men) who crochet furiously and shush people for breathing. We're even allowed to wear denim. Though that's a Bad Thing in my opinion (see earlier post).

b) Rows and rows of nicely jacketed, up-to-date books in a variety of genres. Yes, we do occasionally come across a Terry Prachett with the pages missing or worse, stuck together or worse still, harbouring what might once have been a scab (and still is, frankly) but we're very quick to banish these offending items from our premises - with tongs.

c) A varied selection of films and CDs, featuring everyone from Doris Day to The Rock/ Elvis Presley to Dizzee Rascal. Some of the staff have never heard of Dizzee Rascal, but I have coz I is down wiv da yoof, innit? D'ya'll get me? Etc.

d) Interesting displays featuring World War 2, knitting or cuddly animals a la Beatrix Potter. (We did a Halloween display last year, comprising a skeletal head rising out of a shroud, which scared the bejaysus out of the little 'uns so we probably won't do that again.)

What they don't expect to see are -

a) A scruffy man lurching drunkenly round the aisles. When approached, he said he was partially paralysed. This might have been feasible had he not smelt of alcohol and wee. (I suppose he could have been incontinent and drinking brandy for medicinal purposes but my gut - and nose - said otherwise.)

b) Children knocking over displays or thwanging DVDs around like frisbees. We're not allowed to tell them off unless there's a danger of throttlement. Sometimes it's tempting to initiate the throttling.

c) A man playing the guitar loudly, while thirty children and their mums/nannies sing along to Wheels on the Bus. (To be fair it was World Book Day although I still don't get the "Book" connection. Probably because there wasn't one).

d) A member of staff surreptitiously wiping her nose on her sleeve after sneezing. (I was out on the "shop floor" okay, and couldn't find a tissue. It only happened once. God, you're so judgemental).

Overall though, I think libraries are less intimidating than they were. The study centre upstairs is still a haven of peace and quiet (mostly) if that's what customers want.

I did feel sorry for the poor customer though. It's much harder to choose a book when the air smells like poo.

Erm...

Had one of those mornings at the library, where I felt like a newbie, rather than someone who's worked there for almost eight years. (Eight years?? Let me put that another way... 8 years!! Crikey. Where did that go??)

First thing, a customer asked me to recommend a book. Something to take on holiday. Not too heavy-going.

Erm...I said, eloquently.

Now you'd think working in a library, writing a weekly book review for the local rag, plus being an avid reader and all, I could easily pluck a novel off the shelf and say with some confidence, "what about blah, blah, blah, by Thing ? It's erudite, but witty. The author has drawn heavily on her experiences of shoe-shopping in remote areas, and I think you'll be touched. "

However, the first two books that sprang to mind were already on loan.

"Not much use then," she cackled.

"What sort of thing do you like?" I ventured, breaking out in a light sweat.

"Nothing too Mills & Boony."

"Ah. Family saga?"

"What's that?"

"This..." - I show her a book with a waif in a shawl on the cover.

"Oooh no. Too depressing." (?)

"Not really."

"She's supposed to be good." Points to a Marian Keyes.

"Oh yes, she is."

"They're too thick."

Inward sigh.

"Do you like crime?"

"As long as it's not too gory."

Christ. How am I supposed to know? I haven't read them all.

"Ruth Rendell?"

"Who?"

"Inspector Wexford?"

"Inspector Rendell?"

"...they used to be on the telly."

"Like Diazel and Pascoe?"

"Sort of."

"I prefer watching than reading that sort of thing."

"Horror?" I said.

"Nah."

"Historical?"

"Too much like 'ard work."

"Feel-good?" I said, fingering a Catherine Alliott.

"Never 'eard of 'er.

"She's good though."

"What's she like?" Fingering a Barbara Taylor Bradford.

"Haven't read anything recently, but she's very popular," I said, fingers itching to slap her.

"It's just for the journey."

"What about a travel book? Like a memoir?" Clutching at straws.

"I know!" she said, eyes lighting up. "You do magazines here don't you?"

And off she trotted, mac flapping gently. I felt sad that I hadn't managed to persuade her, yet strangely happy to see the back of her.

"Excuse me," said a scholarly looking gentleman, as I approached the enquiry desk. "Could you help me find a bibliography of fiction published in India pre-1947?"

Erm..

Ever had one of those days??

Shush!

Donna Reed, spinster librarian
"It's a Wonderful Life."


Shock horror. The dress code at work has been “relaxed.” In other words, we’re now allowed to wear jeans, so that we come across as more approachable. Jeans!!! Librarians in jeans? What the hell’s going on??
The news has divided the staff. Half (mostly, but not exclusively the younger members) are thrilled to bits and have immediately swapped their hairy skirts for boot-cut denim, while the rest of us, (me included I’m afraid), have come over all old school, tutting and mumbling about respect and keeping up appearances, which is odd considering we’re keen to try and shake off the old, fusty, po-faced, smelling-of-lavender stereotype.


I’ve now realised what my problem is, and it’s nothing to do with presenting a respectable front (or back for that matter)at all. It’s about having an excuse to Dress Up. I live in jeans when I’m not at work, and rather like picking out a smart skirt/shirt/jumper/knee-boots combo (especially in summer – just kidding) for work, and making an effort with my hair and make-up. God knows, I don’t get out much these days. Where else are my nice new, almost designer label, trousers going to be admired, for heaven’s sake? Not in my living-room that’s for sure. I’m sure I have a different persona when I’m wearing jeans, and it’s not one I’d care to take into work, quite frankly. She’d keep making cups of tea and browsing the web and ignoring phone calls, which wouldn’t do at all.

I say Down with Jeans (metaphorically speaking). I reserve the right to Dress Up if I want to, and if I look unapproachable it’s got nothing to do with what I’m wearing. It’s because no-body’s bloomin’ noticed I’m wearing Prada. (I wish).

PS - In 1905 Robert Louis Stevenson called a librarian a virgin priest of knowledge. Wonderful! Maybe we should change our name instead of our dress code.

Who needs libraries?

I work in a library, if you haven't read my profile ( and why would you - time is precious...sob).

We're undergoing a lot of changes at the moment. Shrinking funds dictate that money is spread over a broader area in order to keep up with our ever-changing social landscape. In other words, we're being dragged, kicking and screaming into the 21st century, via a brand, spanking new, all singing, all dancing computer system. About time, maybe. But why fix what ain't broke, argue the Public.

Why indeed?

Well, like other institutions, libraries are not immune to a spot of re-shaping and if the end result entices more (younger) readers through our hallowed doors, that's a Good Thing. There are a lot of alternative resources out there, not controlled by libraries and if we don't get actively get involved in shaping the coming changes, we'd be cutting our collective noses off to spite our faces.

Of course, we don't want to alienate existing customers. Libraries have long been an integral part of the community and what they'll continue to offer is a public gathering space, local information, and the diversity not necessarily offered by the current "one-size-fits-all" approach of supermarkets, bookstore chains and music/video shops. Hopefully the public will continue to support us.

Arguably, people don't need libraries any more - but it would be hard to imagine a world without them (or is it just me??)