Saturday, February 12, 2005
Day from Hell: Day 3
It's very, very early in the morning, I mean as far as library time goes. We open at 10am, and this was maybe 10:15. It was a bad start to a bad day.
I'm at the desk. A patron enters with a child in tow and carrying two picture books. She bangs them down on the desk.
Patron: Okay, here they are, and what I want to know is, why didn't you just call me? Just pick up the phone and tell me they were late. And by the way I KNOW you close at 5:00 or no, I should say 4:58 because I try to come up in here at 5:00 and y'all don't let me in.
Me: Um, hello there, ma'am. Could you start at the beginning for me, please?
Patron: I know you. You so helpful. You helped me get these French books (she indicates the books on the desk, one of which appears to be a French picture dictionary) and they were good but we are not getting any more French books. We just cannot come to the library any more. The people that work here do NOT know their jobs. Except you, you nice.
Me: ...Thanks! So, you checked out these, um, French books. Which you liked.
Patron: And I'm not paying no fines.
Me, trying desperately to figure out what this chick is talking about: ...So, the books are late.
Patron: But I have proof. I have confirmation and evidence. That lady that work here, she say I can't re-check these if someone else wants them, but I did it on the computer and it said I had a confirmation.
Me: Okay, let's see your card and I'll take a look at your account.
Patron: And I'm late for dance. I do not have time to do this right now.
Me: Well, you can just drop the books off. That would be fine.
Patron: No, I do NOT want this money on my account. I want to take care of this right now.
Me: May I please have your library card?
Patron: I don't have my card. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I left it at home.
Me: We can access your account with a photo ID one time as long as you bring the card in next time.
Patron: It's not me. It's my daughter's account.
Me: May I please have your daughter's library card?
Patron: Denisa! Denisa, go to the car and get my purse. NOW! We late for dance! (To me) Listen, I am a lawyer. I am also a customer service. You can't tell me you close at 5pm even if someone wants to come up in here. That other lady, she wouldn't let me in even though I just wanted to drop off my books.
Me: Well, there's a book drop out there for after-hours book return. You can just put your books in there and we check them back in like it's the previous day, so there shouldn't be any fines.
Patron: No. No. I'm a customer service and we are suppose to help the customer even if it's past the time we get off. Even if it's 5:15 and I want to come up in here, you have to let me.
Me: Actually, we don't. We close and lock the door at 5pm and that's it. But again, we do have the book drop.
Patron: I don't trust no book drop. You listen to me. I put books in there and nobody ever seen them again. You remember this. You helped me last time! You spent two days looking for my French book you said didn't exist and it did exist and it was on the shelf.
Me, having a vague memory of something regarding a lost French book several months ago: Um, yeah, I guess I sort of recall that. Oh hey, here's Denisa with your card. (I pull up the child's account.) Okay, it looks like these two books were checked out November 21 and due December 12. Today is February 12. But since it's a child's card, it only charges you five cents a day, so your total is only $4.40.
Patron: No, you listen. I come up in here at almost five o'clock every Sunday and every Sunday, y'all won't let me in. You close the doors at 4:58 sometimes. I'm a lawyer. I have evidence. I took photos with my digital camera with the time stamp. I'm already talking to City Hall about this. You can't do this.
Me: Well, as I said, you could merely drop your books in the drop box out there. You had that choice, and you...
Patron: It's not a choice! There is no choice. I don't trust that.
Me: Nonetheless, you made that decision, and your total is $4.40.
Patron: But I re-checked those up in the computer.
Me: If someone else had requested the books, it would have told you your renewal didn't work.
Patron: I know that. It told me these French books worked.
Me: Did you print that out, perchance?
Patron: Yes. But I gave it to that lady that wouldn't let me in.
(We spend approximately five minutes establishing the details of this, including "that lady"'s name; she's a reliable long-time library employee that, sadly, was not present today. Apparently, Patron gave her a printout of the dates her books were due, and the employee never adjusted her fines [she doesn't have the authority, incidentally] nor called Patron back nor even mentioned the matter to anyone else. I find this unlikely, considering the employee in question, but whatever.)
Patron: So I don't have my evidence no more.
Me: Well, let's just wait until Monday when (my co-worker) comes in and we can take care of it then.
Patron: But I don't have my evidence! Listen, I just want to pay this fine and take it off my daughter's account.
Me: Okay; it's $4.40.
Patron: But then I want a refund when I prove I'm right.
Me: We don't have a mechanism for giving you a refund. But like I said, it's perfectly fine for you not to pay this today, as you're late for...dance class, is it? You can just pay it next time, truly.
Patron: No. No. I want it off my daughter's account NOW.
Me: You're welcome to pay it, but as I said, once you give us the money, we don't have any way to refund the money once you pay it. The next day, it all goes downtown and we have no control over it any more..
Patron: Then I'll sue you in small-claims court. I'm a lawyer. That's what I do. I sue people.
Me: That's fine, ma'am. You have a nice day.
Patron: Okay, look, I just want to take care of this today so you don't tell my daughter she owes money next time she comes up in here. I'll pay you the money, okay? But I want something in writing, signed by you, saying that I don't owe this and I just paid it to get it off my account.
Me: Listen: you can pay the $4.40 or not, and if you do I'll give you a receipt for it, but I'm not writing you a note saying you don't owe it, because as of right now, you do.
Patron: Don't get smart with me. You're the helpful one. And just a minute ago, you told me you don't get paid enough to stay past five o'clock to help people.
Me, now beginning to get pissed: Now hang on a minute. I think if you rewind that conversation in your mind, you'll see that that's not at all what I said.
Patron: Are you the manager?
Me: Nope, I'm the assistant manager.
Patron: Is the manager here? Get him.
Me: Gladly.
It was just in time, too. I kept my cool throughout the whole thing, even though she was an utter cunt, but when she started misquoting me back to ME, I started to get angry. My boss came out, and the first thing the chick said was, "This lady (me) has been nothing but wise and accomodating." That pleased me, because it's fucking true. My boss listened to her for about thirty seconds, said, "All this fuss over $4.40? I'll just waive your fines, ma'am," and ushered her out the door.
Then my boss said, "Daisy, I'd like to see you in my office, please," and I followed, quaking a bit but ready to defend myself. Instead, my boss told me that he'd heard every word from inside his office and that he was delighted with my handling of a difficult situation and that I was continually improving my customer service and he was proud of me. Score one for me.
Still, I was pissed at the chick, and this lasted into my next public-interaction shift, this one in the computer lab instead of the circ desk. We have this retarded rule that only one person may sit at each computer in the lab. I do not agree with this rule, but I have been asked to enforce it consistently so that patrons don't say to stricter employees, "But SHE always lets me sit with my boyfriend." I can see the logic in this, so I do enforce the rule. So a couple of women came in and huddled over a terminal together, and I said, "I'm sorry, but the rule is that only one person can sit at a computer at a time."
Patron, literally tossing her head at me like a caricature of a Sassy Black Woman circa 1990; I expected her to begin snapping her fingers any minute: What rules you making up on me now?
Me, smiling politely: I didn't make up the rule personally, but...
Patron, interrupting: What about those people over there? They sitting in one chair.
Me: Right. You see, those people...
Patron, interrupting: So who exactly gets to sit together?
Me: What is your particular circumstance?
Patron, again shaking her head around at me like she's on some trashy talk show and I'm the woman that slept with her husband, brother and daughter all at once: SHE doing MY taxes, o-KAY?
Me, still smiling, but wondering if I'm on Candid Camera: Hey, I'm not being rude to you. There's no reason for you to talk to me like this.
Patron: Rude? This ain't rude. You want to see me get rude, I'll curse at you.
Me: Okay, I've reached my decision. You may not sit together.
(I smile broadly and look her in the eye until she walks away. I can hear her complaining to her friend as they leave, "Bitch. I said I'd curse at her. Bitch." I smile serenely to myself. Then my boss announces he's bought doughnuts. Score.)
I'm at the desk. A patron enters with a child in tow and carrying two picture books. She bangs them down on the desk.
Patron: Okay, here they are, and what I want to know is, why didn't you just call me? Just pick up the phone and tell me they were late. And by the way I KNOW you close at 5:00 or no, I should say 4:58 because I try to come up in here at 5:00 and y'all don't let me in.
Me: Um, hello there, ma'am. Could you start at the beginning for me, please?
Patron: I know you. You so helpful. You helped me get these French books (she indicates the books on the desk, one of which appears to be a French picture dictionary) and they were good but we are not getting any more French books. We just cannot come to the library any more. The people that work here do NOT know their jobs. Except you, you nice.
Me: ...Thanks! So, you checked out these, um, French books. Which you liked.
Patron: And I'm not paying no fines.
Me, trying desperately to figure out what this chick is talking about: ...So, the books are late.
Patron: But I have proof. I have confirmation and evidence. That lady that work here, she say I can't re-check these if someone else wants them, but I did it on the computer and it said I had a confirmation.
Me: Okay, let's see your card and I'll take a look at your account.
Patron: And I'm late for dance. I do not have time to do this right now.
Me: Well, you can just drop the books off. That would be fine.
Patron: No, I do NOT want this money on my account. I want to take care of this right now.
Me: May I please have your library card?
Patron: I don't have my card. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I left it at home.
Me: We can access your account with a photo ID one time as long as you bring the card in next time.
Patron: It's not me. It's my daughter's account.
Me: May I please have your daughter's library card?
Patron: Denisa! Denisa, go to the car and get my purse. NOW! We late for dance! (To me) Listen, I am a lawyer. I am also a customer service. You can't tell me you close at 5pm even if someone wants to come up in here. That other lady, she wouldn't let me in even though I just wanted to drop off my books.
Me: Well, there's a book drop out there for after-hours book return. You can just put your books in there and we check them back in like it's the previous day, so there shouldn't be any fines.
Patron: No. No. I'm a customer service and we are suppose to help the customer even if it's past the time we get off. Even if it's 5:15 and I want to come up in here, you have to let me.
Me: Actually, we don't. We close and lock the door at 5pm and that's it. But again, we do have the book drop.
Patron: I don't trust no book drop. You listen to me. I put books in there and nobody ever seen them again. You remember this. You helped me last time! You spent two days looking for my French book you said didn't exist and it did exist and it was on the shelf.
Me, having a vague memory of something regarding a lost French book several months ago: Um, yeah, I guess I sort of recall that. Oh hey, here's Denisa with your card. (I pull up the child's account.) Okay, it looks like these two books were checked out November 21 and due December 12. Today is February 12. But since it's a child's card, it only charges you five cents a day, so your total is only $4.40.
Patron: No, you listen. I come up in here at almost five o'clock every Sunday and every Sunday, y'all won't let me in. You close the doors at 4:58 sometimes. I'm a lawyer. I have evidence. I took photos with my digital camera with the time stamp. I'm already talking to City Hall about this. You can't do this.
Me: Well, as I said, you could merely drop your books in the drop box out there. You had that choice, and you...
Patron: It's not a choice! There is no choice. I don't trust that.
Me: Nonetheless, you made that decision, and your total is $4.40.
Patron: But I re-checked those up in the computer.
Me: If someone else had requested the books, it would have told you your renewal didn't work.
Patron: I know that. It told me these French books worked.
Me: Did you print that out, perchance?
Patron: Yes. But I gave it to that lady that wouldn't let me in.
(We spend approximately five minutes establishing the details of this, including "that lady"'s name; she's a reliable long-time library employee that, sadly, was not present today. Apparently, Patron gave her a printout of the dates her books were due, and the employee never adjusted her fines [she doesn't have the authority, incidentally] nor called Patron back nor even mentioned the matter to anyone else. I find this unlikely, considering the employee in question, but whatever.)
Patron: So I don't have my evidence no more.
Me: Well, let's just wait until Monday when (my co-worker) comes in and we can take care of it then.
Patron: But I don't have my evidence! Listen, I just want to pay this fine and take it off my daughter's account.
Me: Okay; it's $4.40.
Patron: But then I want a refund when I prove I'm right.
Me: We don't have a mechanism for giving you a refund. But like I said, it's perfectly fine for you not to pay this today, as you're late for...dance class, is it? You can just pay it next time, truly.
Patron: No. No. I want it off my daughter's account NOW.
Me: You're welcome to pay it, but as I said, once you give us the money, we don't have any way to refund the money once you pay it. The next day, it all goes downtown and we have no control over it any more..
Patron: Then I'll sue you in small-claims court. I'm a lawyer. That's what I do. I sue people.
Me: That's fine, ma'am. You have a nice day.
Patron: Okay, look, I just want to take care of this today so you don't tell my daughter she owes money next time she comes up in here. I'll pay you the money, okay? But I want something in writing, signed by you, saying that I don't owe this and I just paid it to get it off my account.
Me: Listen: you can pay the $4.40 or not, and if you do I'll give you a receipt for it, but I'm not writing you a note saying you don't owe it, because as of right now, you do.
Patron: Don't get smart with me. You're the helpful one. And just a minute ago, you told me you don't get paid enough to stay past five o'clock to help people.
Me, now beginning to get pissed: Now hang on a minute. I think if you rewind that conversation in your mind, you'll see that that's not at all what I said.
Patron: Are you the manager?
Me: Nope, I'm the assistant manager.
Patron: Is the manager here? Get him.
Me: Gladly.
It was just in time, too. I kept my cool throughout the whole thing, even though she was an utter cunt, but when she started misquoting me back to ME, I started to get angry. My boss came out, and the first thing the chick said was, "This lady (me) has been nothing but wise and accomodating." That pleased me, because it's fucking true. My boss listened to her for about thirty seconds, said, "All this fuss over $4.40? I'll just waive your fines, ma'am," and ushered her out the door.
Then my boss said, "Daisy, I'd like to see you in my office, please," and I followed, quaking a bit but ready to defend myself. Instead, my boss told me that he'd heard every word from inside his office and that he was delighted with my handling of a difficult situation and that I was continually improving my customer service and he was proud of me. Score one for me.
Still, I was pissed at the chick, and this lasted into my next public-interaction shift, this one in the computer lab instead of the circ desk. We have this retarded rule that only one person may sit at each computer in the lab. I do not agree with this rule, but I have been asked to enforce it consistently so that patrons don't say to stricter employees, "But SHE always lets me sit with my boyfriend." I can see the logic in this, so I do enforce the rule. So a couple of women came in and huddled over a terminal together, and I said, "I'm sorry, but the rule is that only one person can sit at a computer at a time."
Patron, literally tossing her head at me like a caricature of a Sassy Black Woman circa 1990; I expected her to begin snapping her fingers any minute: What rules you making up on me now?
Me, smiling politely: I didn't make up the rule personally, but...
Patron, interrupting: What about those people over there? They sitting in one chair.
Me: Right. You see, those people...
Patron, interrupting: So who exactly gets to sit together?
Me: What is your particular circumstance?
Patron, again shaking her head around at me like she's on some trashy talk show and I'm the woman that slept with her husband, brother and daughter all at once: SHE doing MY taxes, o-KAY?
Me, still smiling, but wondering if I'm on Candid Camera: Hey, I'm not being rude to you. There's no reason for you to talk to me like this.
Patron: Rude? This ain't rude. You want to see me get rude, I'll curse at you.
Me: Okay, I've reached my decision. You may not sit together.
(I smile broadly and look her in the eye until she walks away. I can hear her complaining to her friend as they leave, "Bitch. I said I'd curse at her. Bitch." I smile serenely to myself. Then my boss announces he's bought doughnuts. Score.)
