Friday, August 24, 2018

Being a Library Page

This requires explanation. 
Last Saturday I decided to challenge myself.  I heard about this thing called the 24-Hour Comic Challenge, which is to create a 24-page comic book entirely within 24 hours.  No physical work on it can be done ahead of time (except maybe gathering reference photos and drawing supplies), and once the clock starts it doesn't stop even for breaks.  It's kind of a big deal if you can finish it, since even professionals have trouble completing the challenge, and it sounded like the sort of thing that would help me as a cartoonist, even if I didn't succeed on my first attempt.  The only problem is that my work schedule is not particularly conductive to this sort of thing (technically I have the weekend off, but I don't think my bishop would be amused if I fell asleep halfway through playing the organ on Sunday).  But a 12-hour version of the challenge?  That I could work with.  So I did.  And I conquered!  
It's hardly my best work ever, consisting mostly of sketchy line drawings.  But for what it is, I'm pretty proud of it.  So I now present my 12-page, mostly autobiographical depiction of a typical day working a job with a pun-y title:

I work at the public library, holding the job title of "Library Page."  (translation:  book-shelver) My work sort of starts about half an hour beforehand, with me getting ready.  I keep my hair clipped back so it doesn't flop in the way every time I lean over.  The library workers' dress code is pretty lax compared to some places, but I make sure to wear black slacks since there is a strict ban on all things denim.  - No Denim!  No denim pants, no denim skirts, no denim vests, no denim ties, no denim belts, no denim earrings, no colored denim...


Getting to work is usually pretty uneventful, provided that I don't run into any major mystery traffic jams (which thankfully has only happened once).  Parking is another story.  The library has a parking lot, which usually has several free spaces.  But it only allows for two-hour parking, and not a single employee works for less than that.  So most of us park across the street at the all-day parking lot.  This is just fine, provided that you aren't trying to find a space in the middle of a summer Monday.  If that's the case, then odds are you'll be circling around the lot for up to fifteen minutes, waiting for a spot to open up while silently cursing the drivers who beat you to a slot and then only use it for five minutes.  (You're lucky I don't own a griffin.)
As a consequence of the parking situation, I often have to make a mad dash to get inside before I'm too extremely late.  I sometimes run across the janitor while coming in, who always recognizes me, even when I'm a blur rushing past.  He's almost aggressively friendly. "Hi Erin!  Hi Erin!  Hi Erin!  Why are you so quiet all the time?"  - Curse this society run by extroverts!
One of my first assignments is usually to go around the first floor, where the children's section is, and track down all the books that patrons have put on hold.  In fact, these days I'm pretty much the designated person for this task, which hopefully means I do a good job.  I don't mind.  On most days it's almost like a puzzle game, which I call "This book isn't where it's supposed to be.  What crazy place did it end up this time?"  Sometimes the book in question is just a few down from where it's meant to be.  Sometimes it's not even close.  I've seen 300s in the 900s.  And that's assuming they're even on the shelves.  (fishes underneath the shelves for stray books)
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the fastest worker.  This is mostly because I can't turn a blind eye to messes and misshelvings (twitch, twitch).  It's to the point where I don't really consider my shift to have started until I find a book out of place, and I always do ("Found it!").  The volume of misshelvings increases by about 598% during the summer months, due to the annual Summer Reading Program.  At that point it feels like trying to tackle an ongoing mudslide with a mop.
Most of the time I'm simply assigned to shelve books.  I'm not restricted to a particular floor, so I just tackle whichever cart has been waiting to be shelved the longest.  Sometimes I'm on the first floor in the Children's Section, which is a bit noisy and chaotic.  Sometimes I'm on the second floor in the media room, which has its own brand of chaos ("Why isn't this disk in its case?  Where is its case?")  The third floor is the adult section, which is a pretty low-key assignment.  Provided that you can get up there.  ("I swear this ramp has gotten steeper...")
I regularly interact with patrons, which usually consists of them asking where a particular book or section is, and me pointing them in the right direction.  Sometimes they ask me for recommendations, which I always redirect to the desk, since I'm not the best at that sort of thing.  (reads a lot of reference books for writing fiction)  Thankfully, most of them try not to disturb me while I'm working.  Most of them (looks nervously at absurdly creepy guy sitting by the wall).
Occasionally the interactions get pretty weird, especially if kids are involved.  ("So we got a sticky ball stuck to the ceiling..."  "Get me a chair, and pray my boss doesn't notice")  That said, the adults aren't necessarily any better... (patron rifles through a cart, blatantly ignoring the "please don't touch these books" sign.  "Sir...")
Our library has a garden in the middle, which is sort of a tribute to our town's Japanese Sister City.  Its most prominent feature is a pair of fish ponds, which kids love and parents love to use as a bribe ("Can we see the fish?"  "Show me you can behave first.").  It's also nice for workers, providing both a sense of peace and some humor. ("If you want to get their attention, you need to call them by name.  Their names are all "Fred."  Except for the big one.  That's "Big Fred.")
I don't work in the bookdrop, but sometimes I'm asked to assist the person who is.  Sometimes she needs me to sort books while she's checking them in.  Sometimes she needs me to check the various floors for discarded books, or empty the front book drop ("eep").  And sometimes she just needs someone to vent to. ("...so I'm freaking out, and then my friend says that the IRS sends mail notices instead of calling people, so this whole thing was a scam..."  "...Candy?")
Sometimes it can get pretty stressful (How did we end up with 46 carts to shelve?), or tiring (Stay... awake...), or straight up infuriating (Stop putting books on shelves backwards!).  And sometimes the patrons' problems wind up becoming mine (When someone reserves a dozen books on dealing with divorce and prepping to sell a house, you know something is really wrong).
But when I see younger kids discover the library for the first time ("Books!!!"), or older kids find just what they were looking for ("Yes!  Yes!  YES!!!"), or no-longer kids find new connections ("How are we not friends already?") and old ones ("Oh man, I loved this book when I was your age!"), I remember that this is a pretty great place to work.  Plus, I learn where all the good books are shelved.

Just to clarify, the creepy guy on page seven never did anything worse than sit in the corner and be creepy, so you don't need to worry about my safety.  Actually, I find that panel pretty funny.

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