There is nothing going on at the Library today. It is one of my regular days off, but also it is Easter which is a holiday about eggs and the Pope washing feet or something (it's not my religion so I get easily confused by the Internet!), so the Library is closed anyway. It doesn't count as a holiday for me or anything so I get no perks, instead I was just busier than usual at work yesterday and will be busier than usual tomorrow and Tuesday as the Patrons try to make up for their enforced Library separation with extra love, which, in my terms means more circulating items, more people, more phone calls, more jams on the machine. But am I complaining? Uh, yeah. Hello? I'm pretty sure it's part of my job description! My only co-workers who don't complain incessantly are the ones who are in a sort of deranged constant violation of their job description in ways they don't even understand, so it stands to reason. Nevertheless, because all this complaining is sort of awful I often vow that I will not complain for a bit. I might vow this on my way to work and feel full of clean and virtuous confidence, but then I get to work and my co-worker, y., launches in on tirade against people who cannot seem to put books in the transit boxes properly and, just to keep her company, I sort of lightly inveigh against the people who take the last transit slip and don't replace them. I try to see it from their perspective, but it leads to the people who don't put the dates on the bins and now I really mean it. This leads y. to how the circulation manager is the worst violator of inappropriate slip dispensing, which triggers a long tirade from me on Management in general, which is something, believe me, you don't want to get me started on or you will soon be looking desperately for an exit with a panicked expression in your eyes. I will see the panicked expression in your eyes but I wont be able to stop now as I am careening wildly downhill and I am pretty sure crashing to a halt will kill me.
So where were we? My co-worker and I eat the whole bag of potato chips is where. Woozy and nauseous I stumble to the front desk and there you are. And it is refreshing and grounding to see if we have a copy of that Exotic Marigold Hotel movie in for you.