Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Miss Information is annoyed by the fertility of it all

Three teenage girls approach the desk. They would like a book, an article and an encyclopedia containing information about fertility.

Cool. Is there anything in particular they would like to focus on? The girls think it over.

"We want fertility statistics to show how things have changed because fertility is so popular right now."

You don't have to tell Miss Information. She's got all their CDs, been a big fan for years. Sometimes she just can't ask those follow up questions. She took them to the section on pregnancy and they seemed happy. Really enthusiastic, actually.

The old guy patron was more of a challenge. He set off Miss Information's crazy-dar but she decided to ignore it. He wanted fitness books. Ok. Any specific type of exercise?

Oh, yes. He had some very specific requirements. He was looking for the "white" fitness books. Apparently those "foreign" types of exercise just didn't work for him.

Oh. Miss Information looks at the big shelf of exercise books. Yoga? Probably not quite right. T'ai Chi? Maybe not. Qi Gong? Not likely.

The man wants to chat. He's on these pills, see?

Miss Information does not want to be friends with Mr. Creepy. She does not wish to hear his medical history. She keeps her head firmly planted in those exercise books. She finally hands him a nice book of stretching--lots of pictures of scantily clad, definitely white women in leotards. He leaves happy. Miss Information is happy he leaves.

Wednesdays are weird.

2 Comments:

At 4:25 PM, Blogger Misanthropina said...

Perhaps the girls interested in fertility could hook up with the boys who need information about the highly narrow field of science.

 
At 5:13 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Worst reference job I had was in a branch across from a medical centre. Patrons would go in, see the doctor, and then come straight to the library to look up their diagnosis in the medical encyclopedia. I told staff if they saw me trapped more than 10 minutes in the 600s by a diseased Ancient Mariner to come and tell me I was wanted on the phone. AND they parked in the library parking lot, which was free, and hobbled across two busy highways rather than pay a dollar to park in the medical building lot.

 

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