We've Got Letters (and Resolutions)!

Michelle the Academic Librarian writes:

Hi Juice,

I've been reading your blog for a couple of years now, but I think I need to take a break. I love the entries about the rogues, but we've been reading a *lot* lately about the inner workings of your bowels and what you find in the liberry's bathroom. I'm often reading as I have my breakfast, but even if I weren't, I think it would still be a bit much.

Just wanted to know I really enjoy what you do, but the entries about rogues and your life with your sweetie are much better fodder for reading than entries about doo and speculation about the goings-on in your liberry's bathroom.

Although I'm being honest here, I remain a fan. I hope that's okay. I'll check back in later and see if you have "moved" out of bowels of bathroom lit.

Yours,
Michelle, the academic liberrian.

P.S. Sorry to hear about your fish. We are pet lovers around my house.

Michelle,

Thanks very much for the letter.

I suspect you're right about there being a few too many bathroom-related entries as of late. It's not my intention to write a gross-out blog, it's just that the bathroom-related problems we're having are the ones driving me the most insane right now. Still, I have actually been thinking along similar lines myself, particularly after penning last week's And Now, We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Program entry. It was chock full of disgusting bathroom-related material and got me to thinking that I might be dwelling on it a bit much.

A few years ago, I had a similar realization that much of my output had become devoted to the patron who was driving us most insane back then, the man known as Parka. Rather than continuing to devote the majority of my blog output to chronicling his annoying behavior, I decided to just let readers take it as a given that he was continuing to behave annoyingly and just not write about it anymore. Of course, there was still the occasional incident that deserved chronicling, but by and large I left him out. And not terribly long after I stopped writing about him, he went into a self-imposed exile from our branch after figuratively showing his ass one day. He eventually returned, like a big, annoying, Michelin Man-parka-clad, bad penny, but within a couple of months had actually left town, seemingly for good. This may yet be more evidence in my theory that the more energy and thoughts you beam toward the Rogues the more power they gain; which is why I never mentioned his ultimate departure here AT ALL, so as not to jinx it. (And let us hope this note doesn't accomplish that.) I guess the lesson to be learned about poop humor is: a little goes a long way, but a lot can stink up the place—kind of like Fred Schneider songs.

So, that said, barring any major newsworthy poo-festivals or stank ho-downs that occur, my official New Year's Resolution for the blog is to let my readership assume that the horrors in our restroom are continuing unabated, though unchronicled. Believe me, I have plenty of material to cover beyond it. (Plus, maybe if I stop obsessing over everyone else's mookystinks, they'll stop leaving them behind for me to find.)

Don't go anywhere just yet, Michelle. I enjoy having thoughtful, honest people such as yourself as readers.

--juice

We've Got Letters!

The following letter was originally sent to me as a comment response, but I think it deserves a closer look in a larger forum. So here we go...

Dear Liberry Ninja,

I live in an area with a county-wide liberry system that allows me to search the online catalog from home, reserve books that are checked out or living at other branches, and then pick them up later at my neighborhood branch. It even emails me when the book is ready to be collected from my branch's reserve shelf.

I visited the circulation desk the other day because the book I'd been notified about wasn't on the reserve shelf. When I gave the nice lady my name she said, "Oh, yes. I know that name." And she said this very inscrutably, so I'm trying to figure out if there was extra meaning there. I'm guessing I reserve a noteworthy number of books. But am I reserving too many books?

Am I being a pain in the ass?

--Don't Want the Liberrians to Hate Me

Dear Don't,

Are you being a pain in the ass? Eh, possibly, but probably not.

We too have a couple of patrons who do pretty big business when it comes to reserving lots and lots of books from home. Granted, we don't have a fancy system like the "liberry" in your area that can send emails and alerts. We barely have one that lets people reserve things on their computers at home and, unfortunately, we don't always remember to run the report to see what books have been paged so we can fetch them from the stacks. But when we do remember, and there are suddenly eight books on hold for a given patron, I can't say that we resent it much.

Frankly, I'd rather have patrons reserving those eight books from home than tying up the circ desk or (God help them) phoning us to reserve them. They always start rattling off titles to me at breakneck speed, as though our slow-ass computer is capable of allowing me to reserve them at that sort of pace, let alone my poor typing fingers. I have to stop them, write all the titles down on a piece of paper and do them one at a time later on. Otherwise there's lots of starting and stopping and repeating and, yes, resentment on my part. And if they're phoning from home, they always start with the rattling-off-of-titles and I have to interrupt them to ask for their library card number and they NEHeHeHEEVER have it handy, so they gotta go dig it out of the cat's ass, or wherever they keep it, to come back and start the whole thing over. Now that's maddening! So, to me, reserving things from home, quietly and without involving me so much is a very good and welcome thing indeed.

Our only real trouble with our major offen... uh, user of the home reserve system is that she reserves SO many books at once and then doesn't usually come pick them up in a timely fashion, needlessly clogging up the limited amount of space in our hold bin. The books stay there for five days, then get reshelved until they're checked out and returned by other patrons, starting the hold process over again, or until the patron who requested them finally comes in for them, days or weeks later. (Fortunately she never complains to us when all eight to ten books are not immediately available after she's let their hold time lapse and she's okay with finding them on her own.)

In our system, interlibrary loans have to be done through the library requesting them, rather than by patrons at home, so that's not much concern. Our major problem with ILL patrons is that some of them request the limit in books and then hound us for them, calling every couple of days to see if they've arrived yet, despite our assurances that it may take up to 10 days to receive them and oru promises to call them the moment the books come in. Then, once the books have arrived and we call them as promised, they let them sit in the ILL bin until nearly the due date a month later, then complain to us that they only get three days to read them all. Don't ever be that guy.

Otherwise, I think you're a good patron, I'd be happy to have you at our branch, and I doubt that your local liberrians think you're an ass. They're even probably happy for the circulation numbers you help generate. Way to go.