It's been a nice couple of months on the job

We have a regular patron who none of us particularly like. ("Only the one?" you say.) Let's call her Mrs. Hat. She's a resident of the hinterlands of Tri-Metro County who comes in with her daughter to take art classes every Thursday. After class, she often comes in for a "liberry" visit.

You've never seen staff members refuse to make eye contact like we do when Mrs. Hat walks in. You can't look at her. Not that she's some eye-melting hag, or anything; it's just that even eye-contact is an opening for her to try and engage us in conversation, which is the real reason she comes in. I think she only checks out books as an excuse to come up to the circulation desk and talk. And talk. And Talk. AND TALK. She'll stay right there until her daughter is finished with her internet surfing (which if we don't kick her off after half an hour can go on for quite some time, because, hey, no mom) or for the daughter to drive up to pick up her mom.

Mrs. Hat isn't even a horrible person or anything; she just wants to have a long in-depth conversation with someone--ANYONE--and is oblivious to the fact that we all have jobs to do. So whenever Mrs. Hat arrives the staff suddenly becomes incredibly busy with grueling and attention-encompassing library tasks that keep them from looking up or, as is the case with Mrs. A, retreats swiftly to their office and firmly shuts the door.

I don't see Mrs. Hat so often because she has usually departed by the time I arrive on Thursdays. But since I'm coming in earlier on Thursdays this month, I got to see her yesterday. In fact, I warmly greeted her and looked directly into her deadlights as she walked through the door before realizing to my horror who she was.  And Mrs. Hat could not have been more delighted.

While her daughter went off to surf, Mrs. Hat slowly gathered up some books and came up to the desk to check them out. The rest of the staff had fled the room or were otherwise deeply engaged in work away from the circulation desk, so I was trapped as the clerk who had to check her out. I did so as quickly as I could, not looking up from the process and trying not to give Mrs. Hat an opening, as she was even then reaching out her conversation-tentacles, prodding and testing my defenses. When I'd finished, I immediately returned to stuffing fund-drive envelopes, pacing myself as I only had about twenty left to finish. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hat remained stationed at the front of the circulation desk, prodding... prodding.

"So? How do you like working here?" she said after I'd managed to achieve a silence between us for nearly 30 seconds.

At first I didn't know that she was talking to me, as the question seemed oddly out of place. I hazarded a glance up and she was definitely staring back at me.

"Uh... yeah. I like it a lot, actually," I said.

"Good. You been here, what, one... two months now?"

Huh? Did she not know who I was? I've had lengthy conversations with her on several occasions in the past and she doesn't recognize me? Okay, so I've lost 40 pounds in the past year, but I still look like me, don't I?

"No..." I cautiously said, continuing to stuff envelopes and not looking up. "I've actually been here for over three years."

Mrs. Hat was taken aback at this. "Oh, well... I mean... I've seen you before, but I guess I've only noticed you for the past couple of months. When do you work, then?"

"During the day. Usually Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Sometimes Tuesdays." Oh, and Sundays.

Mrs. Hat didn't have much to say to me after that. She soon gathered up her books, stopped blocking the desk and moved over closer to the door to wait for her daughter to finish up. Then, she abandoned even that plan and left the building on her own steam, perhaps to go sit in the car.

Gosh, I hope I haven't offended her.