The Eighth Law of Libraries: the likelihood of an item being on the shelf where it belongs is inversely proportional to the physical distance the patron traveled to come get it without calling ahead first.
“Excuse me, sir, I’m going to have to ask you not to sleep in the library.”
“Why are you bothering me right now? What if I was dead?”
“I’m afraid we discourage that as well.”
“Don’t you have this book anywhere?”
“Not here, no.”
“Is it in the back?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Is it in the basement?”
“No.”
“Aren’t you going to go down and check?”
“Well, that would take a while.”
“How long would it take?”
“I mean first we’d have to install a basement.”
“Welcome to the library, can I help you”
“Yeah I need you to make copies and and find the forms I need from this website and print them and also could I get a pen and an envelope”
“Shall I pick up your dry cleaning too?”
“Oh my gosh do you guys do that, that would be amazing”
Literally all I do as a librarian:
It’s asking for your password.
No, your password.
Not your library card.
Just type your password.
Not in the browser address bar.
Your password.
Your password.
No, I don’t know your password.
You’re right it’s probably our computer’s fault.
I understand why this patron is so upset. His plan — to come to the library on the last day of tax season and expect to find someone there who would promptly file his taxes for him — seemed, admittedly, foolproof.