When I was little I often thought that I would become a Librarian when I was older. I wouldn’t say that it was my dream job as such, but more I had the idea that, given my love of books and reading, it would be the perfect job for me. I had visions of myself sitting day after day, devouring novel after novel, being disturbed only occasionally to stamp some incoming and outgoing matter, and shhhh the odd fellow that dared to talk in anything other than a hushed whisper.
However, as time passed, and I grew older (and maybe just a little wiser), I realised that perhaps being a Librarian wasn’t really so much of a job for me after all. I discovered that you actually need to be quite intelligent to be a Librarian, you have to know stuff about stuff (mainly history…I struggle to remember what I did yesterday, let alone anything past last week), and you have to know your alphabet like roooolllly well. As if these weren’t enough determining factors to put a pin in my dreamcloud, I also realised that I would have to develop a lack of personality, (hard for someone as funny as me), appear to be mainly miserable, and also start wearing owl like glasses and tutting in disapproval at ANYTHING and EVERYTHING…and perhaps, as I got even older, develop ever such a slight humpback.
You see, the thing about Librarians is that, something akin to doctors receptionists, it takes a certain someone to become one. Sure, I have met a few who were quite helpful and seemed to almost, dare I say it, enjoy their jobs. But, for the most part, I would say that they are a pretty standard breed of people, and almost intimidating in their own little jobs worthy way.
Case in point the other day when Mr T and I went to the local library to join.
Joining up was easy, as you would expect, and the librarian was nice enough….at least at first. He lulled us into a false sense of security by being all chatty and helpful, pointing out the books, (always helpful to know where they are in a library where there is lots of other stuff) and the magazines (also helpful!), and even offered me the kind advice that getting a separate card for Mr T was a good idea as there were no fines on overdue children’s items. (Given I am ALWAYS late in returning my books and, more often than not, it would have been cheaper for me to just buy the bloody thing from a shop, I did appreciate this!).
But then wham bam, just like that, Mr ‘I am a ‘friendly” Librarian turned! All of a sudden, I saw it come over him…that ‘librarian’ look. You know the one i mean? He peered over the top of his glasses in a disapproving manner, his voice becomes a hiss, accompanied by a breath of fire, and 1 or 2 spikes burst through his shirt. He tutted and shook his head repeatedly, before proceeding to reprimand Mr T for his most unacceptable behaviour of innocently rearranging the books on the shelves.
Of course, not being accustomed to being hissed at all that regularly by a fire breathing dragon (no jokes about me thanks!), Mr T was somewhat upset and took to hiding behind my legs for protection, before repeatedly wailing ‘I wanna go now!’. And, I can’t blame him! I understand that to the average Librarian, laughing, giggling or generally looking like you might be enjoying yourself within the library confines, is not a behaviour that is accepted, but surely neither is scaring the bejesus out of little boys!
That being said, I did reprimand Mr T in my own quiet manner, but not before I had subtly rearranged some more books on the shelves myself before leaving, to really give him something to moan about! Thinking about it, the poor guy is probably still arranging them now!