Telephone Call…

Just before our 5PM shift change today, a coworker gets a call at the reference desk that goes something like this:

Librarian: “Dumbass Public Library,” how may I help you?

Female Patron: Do you have income tax help there?

Librarian: We have forms, instructions, and publications; but we don’t offer any direct help with income tax.

Female Patron: (muttering something incoherent… Some dumbass takes the phone)

Male Patron (dumbass): What kind of income tax assistance do you offer?

Librarian: We don’t provide any assistance, we offer the forms and instruct…

(Dumbass abruptly cuts in): Don’t give me the fucking run around! You used to provide income tax help there!

Librarian: We might have a long time ago, but we don’t anymore. The senior center provides assistance with taxes. Give me a moment and I’ll get their number.

Dumbass (interjecting): What’s their schedule?

Librarian: I don’t know.

Dumbass (urgently): Do they take reservations?

Librarian: I’m not sure, but I can get their number for yo…

(Dumbass is infuriated): FUCK YOU!!! I don’t want their fucking number!

My coworker somehow conveys the crucial seven digits that this dumbass needs in order to get the information he so eloquently seeks, and the conversation trails off… Ending with a weak, “Thank You” from the dumbass before my coworker places the phone back in it’s cradle.

It’s time to go home, @ the Library.

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~ by Woeful on February 20, 2007.

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