Ref Que Crazies and the Computer Illiterate
Yesterday, I had my six-month performance review. It was quick and painless and pretty nice. Seems like I'm doing everything well. I don't think my teen programming ideas are all that innovative (not yet, anyway) but I am learning a lot and getting some decent responses (not as much as I'd like, but it's a work in progress, word of mouth kinda thing), and I like purchasing all the books for the teen collection. I sneak in as many graphic novels as I can. I like everyone I work with, most of the time, and I feel like I'm part of a community. I feel supported. And I learned that I can charge professional development books and the hours and mileage I use for professional library meetings, all kinds of stuff I thought I had to pay for or do for free. Cool beans.
The part I dislike the most is sitting at the reference desk, which is too bad because it's the majority of my work hours, although my feelings about it change almost on an hourly basis. I'd be fine if I never had to do it again (I may rejoice, actually), but sometimes it's entertaining, at least. Other times it's frakkin' annoying. I had no idea there were so many computer illiterate people out there, of all ages, and no idea how many grumpy and/or helpless old people I would be faced with. I like being the teen librarian, but at the ref desk, I mostly deal with old people. I'm getting pretty good at it (I'm damn nice, actually), but I do tire of all the whining, confusion, hostility, helpeslessness, frustration, impatience, and entitlement. (Not that those are only old people, but I'd say 80% of the people who come up to the reference desk are.) I get tired of the crazies and creepies and drunks, too, and I had no idea how many there were out there. (Just today, I had a creepy guy offer me a handful of hard candy that had probably been in his pockets for days, and when I moved to take them--because God forbid I be rude enough to refuse--he took my hand and kissed it twice with his gooy lips while spouting some crap about sweetness. UGH.) I get tired of the porn viewers and the dude who prints out tons of pictures of Russian brides and ties up the printer. I get tired of people stealing my books and ripping up the teen area and finding empties hidden in the stacks. Sometimes, I love working at the library; other times, it convinces me that people suck.
Question: A middle-aged man is very frustrated because everything he types comes out capital letters. Solution: The caps-lock key is on.
Question: A lady in a business suit is confused because she can't type any numbers. Solution: She's using the number pad, and the number lock key is on.
Question: A very nice old lady asks me what she needs to get on the Internet. I tell her all she needs is her library card and I will help her in a second. I take my eyes off of her for two seconds to put someone on the phone on hold, and in that time, she puts her library card into the 3.5 floppy drive. All the way. Solution: I get our IT guy to take apart the computer and remove it.
Question: A regular patron, a very sour-faced, impatient older woman who, despite not knowing the first thing about computers, is taking online classes, can't figure out how to open her e-mail attachments. Solution: Just open the damn thing for her. Like I do every single time she comes in. Because otherwise she gets rude and flips out.
Question: A patron is trying to buy airline tickets on Expedia and he can't figure out why it won't let him. Solution: As is clearly seen on the site, he has to set up a free account with Expedia before he can purchase his tickets, and not only does he not understand the whole username/password process, he doesn't even have an e-mail address. I explain this and give him a handout on how to create an e-mail account. Then I advise him to call the airline directly when he acts as if this is some huge conspiracy.
Question: An old lady comes in and wants the direct phone number to the CEO of some huge catalog company so that she can complain about their crappy customer service. Solution: Find the name of the CEO and give her whatever phone number looks to be closest to the top, while explaining that getting the CEO's personal number is highly unlikely and this is just the best that I can do.
These are just typical examples. I get stuff like this all day. And here's what I decided after 6 months: Nobody understands how to use the reservation station to reserve a computer, and they just want you to do it for them. Nobody understands that when a web site isn't working, it's not our fault; it's the damn web site. Nobody understands that I can't magically make the Internet go as fast as they want. Nobody knows their PIN (month and day of birth, like so: 0302 for March 2), despite signs being posted in their faces everywere they need to type in their PIN. Nobody knows how to read call numbers. Nobody knows how to set up, check, or open their e-mails, and nobody knows how to send or open an attachment (usually a resume). Nobody has a job, and nobody knows how to write a resume, and nobody knows how to fill out an online job application despite the sad fact that most job applications seem to be online these days. Nobody likes teenagers or little kids hanging out near the Internet computers. Nobody realizes that, most of the time, if you can't log in to the computer, you should try typing in your card number at least twice before telling me that there's something wrong with our computers, or in some way acting as if the library is involved in a conspiracy designed to stop you from accessing the Internet. Most likely, you mistyped your card number. No, really, you did. I can tell because when I stand over your shoulder and you do it again, it suddenly works. Or you used the wrong PIN. Month and day, NOT YEAR.
I suppose this makes it sound like I hate my job, but really, I don't. I do miss my great school library in Seattle, but I'm finding peace where I am, too. There are many parts I love about it. But there are many parts that are just too easy to whinge about, like above, and sometimes those make great stories later on, when I'm no longer so annoyed. (c:
The part I dislike the most is sitting at the reference desk, which is too bad because it's the majority of my work hours, although my feelings about it change almost on an hourly basis. I'd be fine if I never had to do it again (I may rejoice, actually), but sometimes it's entertaining, at least. Other times it's frakkin' annoying. I had no idea there were so many computer illiterate people out there, of all ages, and no idea how many grumpy and/or helpless old people I would be faced with. I like being the teen librarian, but at the ref desk, I mostly deal with old people. I'm getting pretty good at it (I'm damn nice, actually), but I do tire of all the whining, confusion, hostility, helpeslessness, frustration, impatience, and entitlement. (Not that those are only old people, but I'd say 80% of the people who come up to the reference desk are.) I get tired of the crazies and creepies and drunks, too, and I had no idea how many there were out there. (Just today, I had a creepy guy offer me a handful of hard candy that had probably been in his pockets for days, and when I moved to take them--because God forbid I be rude enough to refuse--he took my hand and kissed it twice with his gooy lips while spouting some crap about sweetness. UGH.) I get tired of the porn viewers and the dude who prints out tons of pictures of Russian brides and ties up the printer. I get tired of people stealing my books and ripping up the teen area and finding empties hidden in the stacks. Sometimes, I love working at the library; other times, it convinces me that people suck.
Question: A middle-aged man is very frustrated because everything he types comes out capital letters. Solution: The caps-lock key is on.
Question: A lady in a business suit is confused because she can't type any numbers. Solution: She's using the number pad, and the number lock key is on.
Question: A very nice old lady asks me what she needs to get on the Internet. I tell her all she needs is her library card and I will help her in a second. I take my eyes off of her for two seconds to put someone on the phone on hold, and in that time, she puts her library card into the 3.5 floppy drive. All the way. Solution: I get our IT guy to take apart the computer and remove it.
Question: A regular patron, a very sour-faced, impatient older woman who, despite not knowing the first thing about computers, is taking online classes, can't figure out how to open her e-mail attachments. Solution: Just open the damn thing for her. Like I do every single time she comes in. Because otherwise she gets rude and flips out.
Question: A patron is trying to buy airline tickets on Expedia and he can't figure out why it won't let him. Solution: As is clearly seen on the site, he has to set up a free account with Expedia before he can purchase his tickets, and not only does he not understand the whole username/password process, he doesn't even have an e-mail address. I explain this and give him a handout on how to create an e-mail account. Then I advise him to call the airline directly when he acts as if this is some huge conspiracy.
Question: An old lady comes in and wants the direct phone number to the CEO of some huge catalog company so that she can complain about their crappy customer service. Solution: Find the name of the CEO and give her whatever phone number looks to be closest to the top, while explaining that getting the CEO's personal number is highly unlikely and this is just the best that I can do.
These are just typical examples. I get stuff like this all day. And here's what I decided after 6 months: Nobody understands how to use the reservation station to reserve a computer, and they just want you to do it for them. Nobody understands that when a web site isn't working, it's not our fault; it's the damn web site. Nobody understands that I can't magically make the Internet go as fast as they want. Nobody knows their PIN (month and day of birth, like so: 0302 for March 2), despite signs being posted in their faces everywere they need to type in their PIN. Nobody knows how to read call numbers. Nobody knows how to set up, check, or open their e-mails, and nobody knows how to send or open an attachment (usually a resume). Nobody has a job, and nobody knows how to write a resume, and nobody knows how to fill out an online job application despite the sad fact that most job applications seem to be online these days. Nobody likes teenagers or little kids hanging out near the Internet computers. Nobody realizes that, most of the time, if you can't log in to the computer, you should try typing in your card number at least twice before telling me that there's something wrong with our computers, or in some way acting as if the library is involved in a conspiracy designed to stop you from accessing the Internet. Most likely, you mistyped your card number. No, really, you did. I can tell because when I stand over your shoulder and you do it again, it suddenly works. Or you used the wrong PIN. Month and day, NOT YEAR.
I suppose this makes it sound like I hate my job, but really, I don't. I do miss my great school library in Seattle, but I'm finding peace where I am, too. There are many parts I love about it. But there are many parts that are just too easy to whinge about, like above, and sometimes those make great stories later on, when I'm no longer so annoyed. (c: