May 21, 2008
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-ExcellentToday I already violated my recent pact with myself to stop fighting with patrons. Even when they’re wrong. Even when they’re jackasses. But what do you say when they keep demanding an answer, interrupting you, and just plain are being nasty?
On phone:
“I need to know my late fees on my videos. I rented them out.”
“Sure. I just need your library card number.”
“I’ve never needed my library card before. They always use my social security number.”
“We don’t keep social security card numbers on file to protect patron privacy.”
“They always have before.”
“We don’t have the numbers in our system. I need your card number to look up your account over the phone.”
“Fine. Here.”
(Side note: If she had the fucking library card number to start with why would she offer me her social security number?!)”
“Ok. You owe three dollars and fifty cents in previous fines. The fines on your videos won’t show up on the account until you return them, but if you return them today....”
“No. How much do I owe on my videos.”
As I was saying there is a fine of fourteen dollars accrued against...."
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. How much do I owe on my videos?”
“Nothing until you return them. There is a fee of fourteen dollars accumulated against them, but if you don’t return them today that fee will continue to accrue....”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“That means it will go up.”
I know what that means. You don’t have to get snippy with me. Tell me how much I owe today if I return them today.”
“Seventee...."
And then she hung up on me.
Fucking Hell.
Meanwhile Another call from a patron who wanted me to give her information about an account that wasn’t hers, but her adult nephew's, and "it’s ok he’s standing right here but no he can’t come to the phone he just got out of jail but you can tell me because he’s here."
And another patron who wants me to “get his file back that he accidently deleted" and then he logged off the computer but "I need that file back.”
They just keep coming.
And I went in the back room to eat a cookie ( Yeah. I know. No more cookies.) and my two coworkers were still sitting back there on their cell phones, where they have been talking for three straight hours. THREE HOURS. I can see them through the glass; it’s not like they are hidden from public view. I can’t stay on the phone for two minutes with a PATRON without having someone tug on my arm or drum their fingers on my desk because they need my help with their damn broken puters.
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