Enemy number one
Saturday was not a windy day in Annapolis. The little wind that there was took me about a mile from the dock, then left to go take part in the combustion of fossil fuel in the motors of the powerboaters whose wakes threatened to capsize me. Watching the sail flutter lazily, I got to wondering if anyone would be waiting on the library steps for me to open at one o'clock and how late I could arrive without one of them reporting to the college authorities.
The week before, the wind was amazing. I had the boat up on two wheels and the only challenge was not to come into the dock too fast. Easy Japaneezy. I made it to work by quarter to. That afternoon, the undergrad who also works at the library circulation desk had been telling me about his problem with the electric company, a delinquent payment, a roommate on the run from responsibility, etc. As if all that were not complicated enough, the post office would be closed Monday in observance of our Independence from the crummy Brits. Billy, the undergrad, needed to get the bill to the fugitive roommate before they cut his power. No problem. We can scan the bill, make a PDF file, send it by e-mail. Simple. To the scanner! "But," Billy asks, "can we use that scanner?" It's a scanner. It's not like using somebody's toothbrush. I have the key to open the library door, so I try it in the door to the vacant office where the scanner beckons.
Well, as it turns out, to the lady who runs the library, the scanner is not only endowed with certain magical powers which do not include imageing electric bills, but it is also something much more personal than a toothbrush. We've been caught in the act of searching for the scanner's power switch and she dismisses us from the room. Not us. Billy. I get a ten minute lecture dumbed down to a 4-year old's level concerning the scanner's use, my place in library, the privacy and permission I need to respect and request, respectively. Ok. Ok. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. It won't happen again. Ok. Un-hunh. Ok. I apologize. Ok. I understand. Ok. Alright. OK. Enough!
Needless to say, I don't want anyone reporting that the library wasn't open at one o'clock on the very next Saturday. Fortunately, I manage to find the patches of wind (puffs) and avoid the patches of... non-wind (lulls) and beat a slow tack back to the dock. I putter in by blowing on the sail myself, unrig the boat, stow everything and bolt for the library, arriving at 1:06. Two patrons waiting on the steps. Apologies. Explanations. Assurances. Goodwill abounds. The library is open and all is well.
Then, this guy comes to the desk with his kid. Explains that he's an alumnus. Wants to know if there's a faculty directory so he can get in touch with a tutor emeritus (professors here are called tutors). I look around behind the desk and find the 2004/2005 Faculty/Staff Directory, hand it to him and then return to the comics page of the Washington Post. As luck would have it, he leaves the directory sitting on the counter and not ten minutes later, the woman who runs the library walks in the door and asks me about it.
Now, you'd think I would have learned something from the previous week's reprimand, namely, avoid crossing this woman at all costs. But I had no idea that here, the directory is not only OF faculty/staff, but is only FOR faculty/staff as well. It contains all of their home phone numbers and addresses.
You can't imagine the thrashing this woman gave me in her office. When I walked in the door, she told me to feel free to take a seat. I understood this to mean that I could feel equally free to not take a seat and I replied, "No thank you, I'd rather stand." Her response was forced through clenched teeth and a frozen smile, "Please. Sit."
It's not good to have enemies, but it is good to know who they are. I also took some comfort from a former library employee and fellow student who came into the library that afternoon, after she had gone home. When I asked him why he had quit, he didn't say a word, but pointed forcefully at her office door. I gave him the knowing look, the one that says, "Aahhh. I understand." And he simply told me, "Don't worry. It's not you. It has nothing to do with you."
True, perhaps. But I certainly felt involved when she verbally stomped me.
I'm not even going to chance going sailing this Saturday
Saturday was not a windy day in Annapolis. The little wind that there was took me about a mile from the dock, then left to go take part in the combustion of fossil fuel in the motors of the powerboaters whose wakes threatened to capsize me. Watching the sail flutter lazily, I got to wondering if anyone would be waiting on the library steps for me to open at one o'clock and how late I could arrive without one of them reporting to the college authorities.
The week before, the wind was amazing. I had the boat up on two wheels and the only challenge was not to come into the dock too fast. Easy Japaneezy. I made it to work by quarter to. That afternoon, the undergrad who also works at the library circulation desk had been telling me about his problem with the electric company, a delinquent payment, a roommate on the run from responsibility, etc. As if all that were not complicated enough, the post office would be closed Monday in observance of our Independence from the crummy Brits. Billy, the undergrad, needed to get the bill to the fugitive roommate before they cut his power. No problem. We can scan the bill, make a PDF file, send it by e-mail. Simple. To the scanner! "But," Billy asks, "can we use that scanner?" It's a scanner. It's not like using somebody's toothbrush. I have the key to open the library door, so I try it in the door to the vacant office where the scanner beckons.
Well, as it turns out, to the lady who runs the library, the scanner is not only endowed with certain magical powers which do not include imageing electric bills, but it is also something much more personal than a toothbrush. We've been caught in the act of searching for the scanner's power switch and she dismisses us from the room. Not us. Billy. I get a ten minute lecture dumbed down to a 4-year old's level concerning the scanner's use, my place in library, the privacy and permission I need to respect and request, respectively. Ok. Ok. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. It won't happen again. Ok. Un-hunh. Ok. I apologize. Ok. I understand. Ok. Alright. OK. Enough!
Needless to say, I don't want anyone reporting that the library wasn't open at one o'clock on the very next Saturday. Fortunately, I manage to find the patches of wind (puffs) and avoid the patches of... non-wind (lulls) and beat a slow tack back to the dock. I putter in by blowing on the sail myself, unrig the boat, stow everything and bolt for the library, arriving at 1:06. Two patrons waiting on the steps. Apologies. Explanations. Assurances. Goodwill abounds. The library is open and all is well.
Then, this guy comes to the desk with his kid. Explains that he's an alumnus. Wants to know if there's a faculty directory so he can get in touch with a tutor emeritus (professors here are called tutors). I look around behind the desk and find the 2004/2005 Faculty/Staff Directory, hand it to him and then return to the comics page of the Washington Post. As luck would have it, he leaves the directory sitting on the counter and not ten minutes later, the woman who runs the library walks in the door and asks me about it.
Now, you'd think I would have learned something from the previous week's reprimand, namely, avoid crossing this woman at all costs. But I had no idea that here, the directory is not only OF faculty/staff, but is only FOR faculty/staff as well. It contains all of their home phone numbers and addresses.
You can't imagine the thrashing this woman gave me in her office. When I walked in the door, she told me to feel free to take a seat. I understood this to mean that I could feel equally free to not take a seat and I replied, "No thank you, I'd rather stand." Her response was forced through clenched teeth and a frozen smile, "Please. Sit."
It's not good to have enemies, but it is good to know who they are. I also took some comfort from a former library employee and fellow student who came into the library that afternoon, after she had gone home. When I asked him why he had quit, he didn't say a word, but pointed forcefully at her office door. I gave him the knowing look, the one that says, "Aahhh. I understand." And he simply told me, "Don't worry. It's not you. It has nothing to do with you."
True, perhaps. But I certainly felt involved when she verbally stomped me.
I'm not even going to chance going sailing this Saturday
posted by DavidKraus at 4:39 PM
1 Comments:
The East coast, sailing, the great books...You are getting to be a right Sheldon Vanauken. Now all we need is some more poetry reading and a Davy to turn up.
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