Well, it's been a mighty exciting week here at the bibliotheque.
Event #1: The Guy in the Garage
Wednesday evening, a patron reported that there was a guy sleeping in the parking garage. So the assistant manager and I went down to ask him to leave. He had quite a little encampment going. This is the abbreviated version of our interaction.
Assistant Manager: Sir, we're sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to move along.
Guy: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THIS IS A PUBLIC SPACE YOU CAPITALIST CUNTS I HAVE RIGHTS AND I'LL HAVE MY ATTORNEYS ON YOU FASTER THAN (etc. etc.)
Me: You're welcome to come join us upstairs in the library. Unfortunately, this garage is privately owned and operated, and it's just for cars.
Him (moving his stuff around but not actually making a move to leave): I DON'T HAVE TO MOVE YOU SHOULD HAVE TO MOVE GODDAMN RICH CAPITALIST PIGS THINKING YOU CAN JUST TELL ME FUCK YOU FUCK YOU TOO ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE UNTIL I LEAVE?
Us: Yes.
The guy did take us up on our offer to come inside the library, where he angrily demanded a comment card, which I later found torn up into tiny little pieces next to one of the computers. He hadn't written anything on it.
Event #2: The Lady Who Didn't Make It
This morning a heavy-set woman asked the circulation desk where the bathroom was, and they told her it was upstairs.
"Is there an elevator?"
"Yes, it's around to the left."
"I hope I make it."
I had just enough time to wonder what she meant before she paused in the entryway of the library and vomited. Profusely.
I helped her outside and got her some water, and eventually a cab was called to take her to the doctor. The YA librarian and I roped off the area and did a bit of an initial clean-up, and then the cleaning brigade was sent up from the Central library. Some poor guy spent about an hour applying product and vaccumming it up, but it still reeks in here. I'm pretty sure I'm going to smell like orange vomit for the rest of my life.
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