Friday, October 08, 2004

The FAFSA Conundrum!

We thought Chester the (potential) Molester might be taking a class at the local community college across the way, because he's been parking his Ford Fugly in our half hour parking for over an hour every Wednesday around 4 p.m. I was determined to call the cops on him after he'd overstayed his time this Wednesday, but Mrs. C was hogging the phone for most of the day and it was nearly 5 by the time she got off. I know full well the meter-maid leaves work at 4:30, and after 5 it's legal to park there as long as you like, so I didn't call.

Yesterday, however, he was back and this time at least had the indecency to only get three of his tires in the parallel space. He wasn't exactly blocking the road, but I figured I might be able to use his poor parking job as grounds to get him towed. Unfortunately, Mrs. A saw Chester's parking job and decided to go leave him a threatening note instead. It said something to the tune of: "This is half hour parking. If you continue parking here for over an hour at a time, as you have been, our next call will be to the meter maid."

Of course, if Chester's Fugly had been towed, I would just have to deal with him coming in to borrow the phone to try to get a lift back to his own home county. Then he'd have all the excuse in the world to hang around until that ride arrived. Probably best he wasn't towed.

About the time the rest of the staff left, in Chester walked. I don't think he'd seen the note yet. More likely, he was looking for an excuse to come in since two early-teen girls had entered ahead of him, (one of whom was the same one he'd been staring at before I invited him outside to give him "the speech" this summer). As soon as he was through the door, though, he saw me at the desk and stopped still.

"Um, do you have any FAFSA forms?" he said with a worried glance at our floor shelf where we keep such forms and local free publications.

"No," I told him. Which is true. We don't have any FAFSA forms because he had already taken them all.

"Um, do you think there might be any, um, upstairs by the newspapers?"

"No," I told him. Again, it's because HE TOOK THEM ALL as an excuse to be near the magazine racks where all he really wanted to do was steal a copy of Teen People.

Chester gave me a doubtful look.

"We haven't had any for a couple of months," I told him. "Other people have asked too."

"Oh," he said. "Do you know when... *mumble mumble mumble* "

"Pardon?"

"Do you know when you'll have any more?"

"No."

Chester didn't leave immediately. He went back and had a wee in our toilet, probably ogled the girls at the computers on his way back through, and then left.

Only after he was gone did it occur to me that I should have just said, "No, we don't have any FAFSA forms, cause you took `em all! Have you tried looking at HOME?"

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An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.