Tuesday, January 31, 2006

At the Reference Desk 

For reference services rendered, patrons have blessed me, laid hands and prayed on me, squealed with glee, clutched my hands, burst into tears (for setting up an appointment with INS), slapped me on the back, drawn me pictures (sometimes the pictures were of me), asked me out, written me poems, given me chocolates, coupons, coffee, a homemade smoothie, flowers, and a gardenia corsage, hugged me, offered to give me a shoulder massage (she was a professional masseuse).

Others have screamed at me, thrown tantrums, slammed a fist down on my desk when I wouldn't let them use the phone and instead directed them to the payphone 20 yards away, shot me looks of such hate that I could actually feel it (it feels like heat), aggressively tried to start staring contests with me, drooled on my keyboard, dropped a marijuana roach on my keyboard, and informed me that they paid my salary when I wouldn't let them have extra internet time.

So far no one has spit on me.

Tempting fate there, Foxy.
Oh, I love the "I pay your salary" line. I'm so tempted to ask them for a raise.
Just a matter of time.
I know, I know. It's not just tempting fate, it's taunting it. It's like I gave fate THE FINGER. Oh, what have I done.
Since we're tax payers too, does that mean we pay our own salary?

And some patron is working up a loogie as we speak with your name on it, just because you've shown such hubris.
And no one has ever eyed you up and down and asked, "Is you one uh us? You know, is you one uh US? (wink. Teefs suck.)"
Sniff. Well, I had a grateful patron endow the library. Can you match that?
RE the "I pay your salary" nitiwit, I have always wanted to reply, "Aha, so YOU'RE the cheap bastard!"
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