Mr. B-Missing?

Kind of an odd Sunday shift in that it was utterly free of Mr. B-Natural. He's usually the first patron of the day and is almost always waiting at the door when I drive up. Not so today. I'm guessing he's still pissed about his dog being banned from the library and so he's staying away in protest.

Normally, my response to such a protest would be, "And this is a bad thing, how?" But I do feel a bit sorry for him in this case. As my wife pointed out, while Mr. B-Natural is indeed the grumpiest old man in all the world, he's also a fairly lonely guy. Not surprising, what with his being so grumpy. However, he'd mellowed so much over the past few months due entirely to the presence of Bubba the Dog. See, Bubba is Mr. B's ambassador to the world. Everyone loves Bubba (especially fleas, mind you, but people too), who is a genuinely sweet and happy dog that attracts positive attention which gets vicariously shared by Mr. B-Natural. With Bubba around, people actually smile at Mr. B-Natural and are happy to have him around. Without Bubba, he's just a cranky old man that no one will have much to do with.

So, he's probably off sulking somewhere.

Without Mr. B-Natural in today, I had to make do with two, count `em two, separate visits from Parka plus an appearance by Matilde the Cranky Wiccan. She gave me a bit of trouble too.

When Matilde came in to sign up for a computer, I told her it would be a couple of minutes because the computers were full. I was just coming around the desk to go boot one of the patron's whose time had run out when Matilde stepped in front of me and started back to the computers herself. I thought: What part of "It's gonna be a couple of minutes" didn't you understand, lady? She went right to the computer hall, then saw they were full and turned around to come back, nearly colliding with me in the process. When the computer was finally clear, I went and told her and pointed back to the hall. She went. Then, about 4:50, I went back to get garbage bags from the bathroom and to tell her that she only had 10 minutes left until we closed. This news elicited not even the usual annoyed grunt from her, though. At 5 p.m. sharp, I went back and told her "It's about that time." Again, not a word. She just kept right on typing on the e-mail she had open. I kept myself busy for half a minute, putting a new liner in the garbage can by the bathroom, then started shutting off computers in an effort to reinforce my point that we were closing. I didn't want to have to repeat myself to her, but it looked like I might need to.

"Oh, am I out of time?" she asked, after I shut off the computer beside hers.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"What?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I repeated, nodding. Only then did I realize that Matilde the Cranky Wiccan is hard of hearing. It certainly explains why she was so quiet the whole time. I only felt a little bad for heaping such silent ire in her direction.

As to the fleas, they seem to have been eradicated. I wore shorts and got nary a bite.