Monthly Archives: May 2016

A Record Number Of Readers Saves The Day

I wrote a follow up post about my experiences at the Beverly Library the other day. This post as laced with mean-spirited jabs at certain people within the institution in question, but I didn’t expect the post to attract so many readers.

I don’t why I’m suddenly so observant, when it didn’t bother me in the slightest to brag about my rather abrupt exit from The Single Mop Superstore and to subsequently defend myself to the mouthy trolls who judged my actions afterwards.

Could it be that while I have no problem squaring off with the librarians on their home turf I have no wish to be labeled an Internet Bully? I mean, I wouldn’t have mentioned them by name. But the nicknames and clever character descriptions would not have flattered them in the slightest, and they would undoubtedly recognize their own unique oddities no matter how I chose to dress them up.  In the context, I certainly wouldn’t be bullying any more than writers like Torey Hayden and Mary McCracken were bullies when they criticized the actions of their colleagues.

No, I think the reason I am choosing to stay my hand just now, is that I have no wish to alienate the readers who gave me a record number of hits yesterday.

Thank you readers. But just a fair warning, I kowtow to no one and will resume my spiteful critique of humanity in the very foreseeable future.  Today is my gift.

Although I will point out the oddity of a coffee cup in such a haphazard location, which likely contains something far more damaging to library materials than my measly handful of pistachios. (And the dozen or so fiber bars that I’ve also eaten at those very computers)


I Will Say This About Beverly Free Library

Generally, they’re a lot more observant than most of the librarians in the NOBLE network. They’re quicker to address loud talkers, cellphone users, and other such oddities that were not a problem in libraries a hundred or so years prior.

I wonder if librarians were allowed to assault rowdy patrons. I picture a time when the men and, well, men who ran the library were allowed to carry truncheons, with which to beat the crazy homeless people who would enter the building to use the bathroom and get warm. The upshot is, being a citizen of such a time, I would have been within my rights to carry a cane sword, or some similar means of defense and/or negotiation.

Unfortunately, some of the librarians are only observant twice a day. Kinda like a broken clock.

I had some pistachios. I have every intention of cleaning them up, just as I’ve thrown away the wrappers of every fiber and breakfast bar I’ve eaten at this library for the past year. People drink icy beverages in flimsy containers at these computers, but it was so adamant that the librarian in question remind me that food isn’t allowed in the library. People who have not seen a bar of soap in months handle the books and the newspapers in the mezzanine, and I don’t want to think about the journey some of the library materials have been on outside of the building.

But my pistachios are the problem.

I wonder what she would say if she read this post. 

Natural Selection at CVS

Yesterday, I went for a very long walk. I’m not going to tell you where I walked to, but when I stopped at the CVS on Canal Street, near Salem State University, I was parched. So I picked out my favorite Arizona Shaq Soda (which isn’t actually my favorite, but they haven’t carried the other flavors in forever) and as I waited in line, I pulled out the exact amount that would be due.

This cashier was obviously not new going on the worn and torn nature of his name tag. But I guess he could have been a student, since the college is across the street. It’s not a stretch to think that most of the employees at this location are students and if they aren’t, they may want to listen to this.

“Do you have your discount card today, sir?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

There’s a line behind me. The guy hadn’t even scanned the product when he said, “Uh, well, I think it’s on clearance. Do you want to try it out?”

Remember this entry? Well, the point is I hate being hassled. When I say no, it means no. When I say no politely, it means I would love to cuss you out, but I’m not mean or rude, so it would be nice if you return the favor by scanning my purchase so I can be on my way.

I’ve also pointed out that if it’s a clearance price, then I wouldn’t need the card for it anyway, because clearance prices have nothing to do with the sale. The store is just trying to get rid of the product and they don’t care who buys it. They could be having a clearance on cough medicine and you could just buy a whole shopping cart full of it and they wouldn’t even check your ID.

This soda was not one of the items on clearance. I would have rejoiced if that were the case, but it wasn’t.

“Oh, but the cashier is only doing his job,” someone will whine.

To which I reply, yes, his job was to ask if I had my card. His job is also to get me out of there as quickly as possible so he can serve the customers behind me. He failed at this, which is why I’m blogging about it now, which should frankly be of no surprise to anyone.

Hats Off to You

There was a baseball cap on my table in the living room.

We’ve had some wet weather recently. John has asked me on numerous occasions if I would like to wear a cap, or use an umbrella. I have refused. Politely. I shouldn’t really have to qualify how I refused something. The point is that I’ve said no.

But, John left the cap on my table in the living room, yesterday. Then he asked me if I wanted to wear it when I go out in the rain. Again, I said no.

You know what it’s like?

Have you ever had someone discreetly leave a Bible on your pillow? Or a tract? Have you ever repeatedly rejected someone’s attempts to convert you to their religion? (Yes, Wiccans, you’re just as guilty of this, so don’t get high and mighty now)  It’s annoying and it’s completely disrespectful. But they do it anyway because deep down, they believe that the only reason you’re saying no is that you’re either too stupid to know better, or you just haven’t experienced it properly enough to make a sound judgment (the sound judgment would of course be a “Yes”).

It’s like someone insisting that the only reason you’re gay, is because you’ve clearly never had sex with the opposite gender, or just haven’t found “The right one”. Because the right one has to be the one that your “friend” approves of.

John, I love you, but this is what happens when I feel like no one is listening. I shout it out in public. Neither of us is ever happy with it, but maybe now you’ll understand that when I say no about something, it means no.

You have things you wish for me not to do. I carefully select movies that I know won’t upset you, because I am thinking of you. Because I have listened to you these past two years and I am applying what I have learned about you through listening so that we can be happy together.

But this is what happens when I feel you are not listening to me. I turn to my readers. Some of them will troll me and tell me how I’m the bad guy. I’m sure you’ll even take umbrage with the fact that I went a head and aired our problems to the world. But oh well, this is a step I am taking.

Consider this an exercise in our relationship.

Forge of Empires

Yeah, I started playing that. What can I say, those TV ads are so compelling and I figure whatever I do with my library time is fair game.

This isn’t the most substantive blog post for a 1st of the month post, so here’s a rehash of my feelings in regards to the transgender bathroom bill.

I’ve peed in the women’s room. I’ve encouraged women to go into the men’s room, after I emerged to see someone in desperate need of the restroom and I knew for a fact that the men’s room was either empty, or full of people who couldn’t care less if someone went in there to pee.

The idea that sexual predators will deliberately have their bodies altered in such a dramatic way, just so they can get access to your children, is stupid. It is so incredibly brainless that I honestly hope the apples fall far from your particular tree.