An Open Letter To The Librarian: You Know Who You’re
I’ve had many strange interactions in libraries. Nothing weird. But strange. These interactions have always interested me. The books are what I come for. Obviously. But there was always something else. The librarians. And they were always women. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a male librarian. Do they even make them? If so, they are very rare.
I’ve done tons of things in libraries. Some good. Some bad. I’ve made out with girlfriends, been yelled at, even spent some serious time in college researching and writing. But the most recent experience comes from the Echo Park library. Now I should start off by saying it’s a pretty nice library and I’ve always been able to find what I’m looking for. And it’s always super cool. That AC is pumping. However the positives don’t come without some negatives, for one there’s always a shit ton of homeless people toting their smells and all their homeless accessories. Now I know it’s a public library and they have just as much of a right to be there as anyone else. But all they do is take up room at the tables, smell and struggle to log into their earthlink email addresses. (Sorry I know many people use earthlink still. Not a slam on those people just a detail I figured I should include. But I digress.)
The whole reason for this post was because of one librarian. One single librarian. How could one person hold so much power? The power holder in this situation is a bat looking white lady that works the checkout desk. This all started when I moved to the neighborhood.
For starters in order to rent a book you need to provide proof of residency. Got it? No not simple enough. My issue was no bills came in my name because I was renting a room in a house and I didn’t typically get mail from anyone with the exception of a care package or Christmas card from my estranged Grandma that usually was mailed to my Mom’s house. But that is a completely other post.
I decided to bring a copy of my lease and a rent receipt from my first month. This did not suffice and I was restricted from renting anything but one book with a guest pass. But I was not a guest. I was an Echo Park resident according to my lease and $600 rent receipt.
I left pretty upset. Here I was at my local library unable to join.
Why the bureaucratic red tape added to the simple process of people renting books?
What’s the risk to allowing people who want to rent rent?
I tried 2-3 more times hoping a different librarian would be working but failed.
Eventually I got a piece of mail and walked it in there with the biggest internal fuck you for lack of a better word, swag I could muster.
Here’s my thought process from the period of my life where I could not rent a book from a library. I hope it helps you better understand why I was so angry with this lady’s inability to cut me some goddamn slack.
Really wanted to tell her to check that attitude at the door. But I did not. Really wish I did.
I had gone over the renewing limit for one of my books
What is this lady doing here?
Do you know where we are?
You know the internet is a thing?
I don’t have to be here. It’s a choice.
I secretly want the job security of a librarian
They can do whatever they want
Shout out to the system it works
Look I’m just here to read
When it comes down to it, I’m on your side
I understand why Nazis burned books
Look around at all the smelly people. I showered today!
Do you really want to go down with the ship?
What were your dreams before this?
Fuck the librarian. JK I love them. Thanks for making me feel small.
I lost my virginity in a library in the nonfiction section. To this day I can’t cum unless the dewey decimal system is used to organize something in the room.
