I've dealt with some difficult patrons since coming to Cook Library, but they were either lazy, incompetent, or a bit dim--until tonight I'd not encountered a jerk (well, scratch that--last Monday I had some noisy patrons who tried to fight a guy who asked them to "shut the fuck up." But I wasn't helping them when they got rowdy).
She was pale, blond, and thin-lipped, a scrawl of metallic red lipstick accenting how pursed her bitter mouth was. She approached Candi, my student assistant, and brusquely demanded to know where the Journal of Criminology was located.
Candi: I only see the Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology.
She: No, I know you have it.
Candi: Geoff, do you know what's wrong? [I asked for the title again, watched as Candi typed it in, and verified she'd done everything correctly]
Me: Nope, not listed!
She: [cheeks now flushed--we're talking Martha Stewart bitter] I know you have it because I checked the Catalog from home and emailed and its presence was verified by K via email!
Me: [Surprised at getting yelled at; and surprised to find that I'd kind of missed that in a perverse, ex-retail way] Well, ok, perhaps you'd like to come over to my computer and we'll look.
She: Um, you're supposed to be the expert here! I don't see how me watching you screw up will help!
Me: Well, yes, but maybe if you come over here and show me what you did to find it originally, then I can figure out what the two of us here at the desk are doing wrong.
[I brought up the Catalog, then went to Journals, then verified the title again, and typed in Journal of Criminology, again getting the same result Candi had gotten twice.]
She: [VERY loud] Obviously you're doing something wrong, because I know you have it!
[I went back to the Catalog/Journals search screen, and asked again]
Me: What did you type in here?
She: Criminology.
Me: Ok, you asked us for the Journal of Criminology, that's our problem [I used my most innocuous, non-accusatory, forgiving tone--very hard for jerks to handle].
She: I asked for Criminology, and said it was a journal, but...oh [at first in a sort of screeching, and then in a sort of whisper as she realized she had indeed asked thrice for the wrong title, and watched us type in three times what she'd asked for].
[I sent her out to Bound volumes, and she sputtered a rude and unapologetic "thanks" at us. Candi leaned in and]
Candi: Oh my God, you are so much calmer than I would be!
Me: Um, bitch! She asked for the wrong title three times, then denied doing so!
Candi: And no apology!
Even the most annoying patrons I've had here have been extremely thankful for any help--I hadn't encountered anything like this young lady since those halcyon days at Borders 043. I hope the article she needed was torn out!
5 comments:
God, what a BRAT!
I LOVE letting the mean ones show me exactly how they're the ones screwing up. And then I get to be extremely nice to them about how dumb they were. It's very satisfying.
Hey: I haven't helped a patron in months! I kind of miss it. I must be a masochist.
Em
I share the masochistic tendencies, apparently. I've been puzzling over my strange pleasurable response to this screaming meany since last night.
I've found that taking the money aspect out of the patron equation certainly makes moments like these much more satisfying. The patron's only recourse when presented with her own idiocy is to atone (unlikely) or splutter. There's no demand for some kind of monetary retribution for all the "time" wasted or whatever. It's somehow equalizing.
I snapped at some old man last week for interrupting me in a cranky old man way. I felt no remorse, although I did sort of scoot the chair back so my big belly showed. I figured if nothing else he'd decide I was hormonally unstable.
Ah, brusqueness is extremely tempting, and when I go there I find it inordinately satisfying.
"I'm sorry, but I'm here to assist you if you need help--I'm not here to do your research for you. I'll be happy to show you the basics of the database search, but I will not look up articles for you." I would never have said that to even the rudest person at Borders, and yet I say it all the time now (of course I make exceptions--for the visually impaired, the technologically illiterate, or the Broadcasting and Cable crowd, though I have less patience with the latter).
Using your condition to your advantage, eh? Sneaky!
Mmm. How come when I scoot back and show off my extra belly I just hear snickering.
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