city library adventure
This afternoon, I went to the nearest library branch to get a library card. I've lived here since 2005, but I never bothered getting a City card because I had my university library with comic books and movies and rooms to watch movies in, so what did I care? It wasn't ever going to be as good as the library by my parents' house, but it worked and I wasn't a history major or whatever. I had video and audio projects, not papers.
Of course, you have to have a proof of residency when you sign up for a card. That was a little hairy, as I don't have a copy of my lease (my parents do, I do not trust myself to hold on to important documents like that), I don't get any mail (Netflix doesn't count because there aren't any dates on it), and all the bills are in my roommate's name. I do have pay stubs, but my company switched to electronic stubs shortly after I moved to my current address. I printed out my latest pay stub (Tuesday's) with my address on it and brought my work ID just in case.
I love libraries. I think they are in my Top 5 Greatest Inventions of All Time, along with wedge heels, indoor plumbing, DVRs, and Slurpees. So you know I was excited and in a good mood when I walked up to the front desk. I cheerfully asked the librarian who assisted me to please help me sign up for a card. She seemed to be a little disgruntled, but I kept smiling as I handed her my driver's license.
Then she asked me for proof of residency.
My parents' address is on my driver's license, and I know it was weird, but it's not THAT weird. I handed over the print out of my pay stub and explained that it was today's pay stub and that my work went electronic a week before I moved. She gave me some BS about that not being sufficient, so -- still smiling -- I forked over my work ID. It couldn't get any more official than that, yet she asked me if I had anything else I could use, any mail. I explained that the bills all come in Jacky's name, not mine.
Her response? A grumpy "I'm not talkin' 'bout no bills."
"I know, ma'am," I said, "but this is all I have."
She sighed. "Don't you get no mail?"
I admit I stared at her a little incredulously. Mail? Who the hell gets mail anymore when you can text or shoot someone a Facebook message? I politely told her I haven't received any mail at this address as of yet.
"No letters, no packages?" she pressed. "Don't nobody write to you? Your parents, your friends?"
I was dangerously close to losing my composure and saying something awful like, "Bitch, my family dead and I ain't got no friends" but for some odd reason I didn't. I just stood there and shook my head, while she plunked angrily at the keyboard to enter my phone number. She handed back my IDs and printout, then muttered something under her breath as she walked over to pick up some library information papers with all the branch locations and regulations as I signed an agreement form. While that happened, another patron walked up to the desk and she assisted her. I waited patiently and a little bit after she was done, she practically tossed my card over the table and said that I could check out two books, but her tone was ugly.
"Okay," I said brightly, I will check out two books, but not from you, I thought. "Thank you for your help!" I added, and fled for the exit before I could apologize to her for how much her life sucks. Granted, she may not have had the greatest day ever, but usually you are pleasant back to someone who is pleasant to you. If I've learned anything in my short life, it's that you can be a little off kilter as long as you are pleasant about it, and it's always worked for me (technically it DID work this time, since I left with a card). I'm a pretty pleasant person unless (A) my parents guilt trip me or (B) there was something bad on TV. Not to mention -- shit, you may not make bank working at a library, but it's a government job. With free books. I don't see how you could hate it, even if you're menopausal.
Bitch.
And in case you were wondering, my fondness for "True Blood" has in no way diminished. I LOVE IT. The Southern accent I keep talking with afterwards, though? That's another story ...
Of course, you have to have a proof of residency when you sign up for a card. That was a little hairy, as I don't have a copy of my lease (my parents do, I do not trust myself to hold on to important documents like that), I don't get any mail (Netflix doesn't count because there aren't any dates on it), and all the bills are in my roommate's name. I do have pay stubs, but my company switched to electronic stubs shortly after I moved to my current address. I printed out my latest pay stub (Tuesday's) with my address on it and brought my work ID just in case.
I love libraries. I think they are in my Top 5 Greatest Inventions of All Time, along with wedge heels, indoor plumbing, DVRs, and Slurpees. So you know I was excited and in a good mood when I walked up to the front desk. I cheerfully asked the librarian who assisted me to please help me sign up for a card. She seemed to be a little disgruntled, but I kept smiling as I handed her my driver's license.
Then she asked me for proof of residency.
My parents' address is on my driver's license, and I know it was weird, but it's not THAT weird. I handed over the print out of my pay stub and explained that it was today's pay stub and that my work went electronic a week before I moved. She gave me some BS about that not being sufficient, so -- still smiling -- I forked over my work ID. It couldn't get any more official than that, yet she asked me if I had anything else I could use, any mail. I explained that the bills all come in Jacky's name, not mine.
Her response? A grumpy "I'm not talkin' 'bout no bills."
"I know, ma'am," I said, "but this is all I have."
She sighed. "Don't you get no mail?"
I admit I stared at her a little incredulously. Mail? Who the hell gets mail anymore when you can text or shoot someone a Facebook message? I politely told her I haven't received any mail at this address as of yet.
"No letters, no packages?" she pressed. "Don't nobody write to you? Your parents, your friends?"
I was dangerously close to losing my composure and saying something awful like, "Bitch, my family dead and I ain't got no friends" but for some odd reason I didn't. I just stood there and shook my head, while she plunked angrily at the keyboard to enter my phone number. She handed back my IDs and printout, then muttered something under her breath as she walked over to pick up some library information papers with all the branch locations and regulations as I signed an agreement form. While that happened, another patron walked up to the desk and she assisted her. I waited patiently and a little bit after she was done, she practically tossed my card over the table and said that I could check out two books, but her tone was ugly.
"Okay," I said brightly, I will check out two books, but not from you, I thought. "Thank you for your help!" I added, and fled for the exit before I could apologize to her for how much her life sucks. Granted, she may not have had the greatest day ever, but usually you are pleasant back to someone who is pleasant to you. If I've learned anything in my short life, it's that you can be a little off kilter as long as you are pleasant about it, and it's always worked for me (technically it DID work this time, since I left with a card). I'm a pretty pleasant person unless (A) my parents guilt trip me or (B) there was something bad on TV. Not to mention -- shit, you may not make bank working at a library, but it's a government job. With free books. I don't see how you could hate it, even if you're menopausal.
Bitch.
And in case you were wondering, my fondness for "True Blood" has in no way diminished. I LOVE IT. The Southern accent I keep talking with afterwards, though? That's another story ...