.
so today i get a hair up my ass for a particular book, but before i reflexively head off to borders i figure what the fuck, we're in the middle of a recession--let's see if the library has it.
i go on the l.a. public library website without much hope--turns out it's very well organized--and to my surprise find not only the book, but even an available copy of the audiobook version at a remote branch out in the hinterlands.
before i drive all the way out there, i call said branch via the number provided--and holy shit, a real, live person answers--and, again, without much real hope, ask if someone could go so far as to actually check to see if the computer is telling the truth and the audiobook is really, truly there.
to my astonishment, somebody readily volunteers to actually walk their fat, civil-service ass over to the stacks and do just that. i give 'em the title and call number, they put me on hold, and within a minute, they're back not only with said audiobook in hand, but even asking me if i'd like 'em to hold it for me.
when i get my voice back, i meekly reply, "uh, yes, that'd be great." and then, knowing i'm pushing it, ask, "it's a little far for me to drive today--could you possibly hold it for me until friday?"
and this is where it gets fuckin' surreal: bitch says, cheerfully, "would you like me to transfer the audiobook to a branch close to you so you don't have to drive so far?"
this really was too much; i gasped, "you mean you can actually DO that?!"
"of course, sir."
"um...how much will it cost me?"
laughter. "it's totally free, sir--we'll even email you when it gets there, so you can swing by and pick it up at your convenience."
well, as you can imagine, by this time i'm falling all over myself, slobbering my gratitude to this librarian for her extraordinary kindness.
it's only later, when i come to my senses, that i realize this was the first time in my twenty years of highly-taxed california existence that--even though i'd been paying through the nose for years and fuckin' years--i've ever gotten any sort of "service" from any california governmental entity for "free."
and it wasn't even this that bothered me so much--it was more my pathetic, groveling gratitude that freaked me out.
"good god," i realized, "even i, mkf, have become a sheep--simultaneously paying some of the highest taxes in the country and grateful for any small favor the government chooses to grant me."
i ask you--what the fucking hell has happened to us, the piss-poor descendants of the proud, strong, self-sufficient people who made this country?
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9 comments:
Just think about all this time you've been using your own self-built self-paved roads to travel on!
Face it, soon we'll all be floating around in our hover-chairs (who needs to walk anyway?) with computer screens permanently attached to our faces as we consume all our meals through straws..
Until then, i think you should 'get a hair up your ass' more often.. We BOTH should!..
i will, if you will.. whadya say?
i ask you--what the fucking hell has happened to to the proud, strong, independent people that made this country?
they're all dead.
I have never met a rude librarian. Most are like secular nuns, (even the men) and are librarians for reasons other than civil service fat ass building.
Not having a cappuccino bar probably makes your LA libraries unbearable for most of your neighbors, therefore, your local librarian is not overworked, just underpaid.
atari: you know, for the almost-40% of my hard-earned income i'm paying in city, county, state and federal taxes, i kinda figure i should at least be able to count on shit like roads, police, prisons and a standing army.
yhm: yeah, wall-e-land, here we come, full speed ahead.
judi: i changed that final paragraph a little (a right i reserve for myself when i sober up and read what i wrote the night before), but yeah, your observation still works.
blindman: never met a rude librarian? then you owe yourself a trip to los angeles (actually, they're generally not rude so much as borderline-surly and unhelpful--but hey, that's the culture here).
Obviously, you DON'T visit your library often. Library assistants are all like that - except in NY and parts of Florida. Oh, and Norfolk, Nebraska - there, the librarians are straight from the bowels of Hell. Then there's that obnoxious bitch at the Central Branch in San Diego - if condescending scowls won awards, dearie...
I have always had good experiences with librarians, that is once I was past college and the old library culture began to change and become more user-friendly.
When I came to Boston to study, just barely 17 years old, I went to the Boston Public Library to get out a reading assignment--Lysistrata by Aristophanes.
Most of the stacks were out of bounds then--you wrote your catalog number(s) on a card and as much as half an hour later your requested book (or a "not available" note) was delivered to your numbered seat in the reading room.
An ancient--1840s or 50s--copy of Aristophanes' play was delivered to my seat. The translation was by an early-Victorian Englishman and defined the once-common term "fustian." More to the point, virtually every punch line in the bawdy, erection-filled play was either missing or rendered essentially meaningless, each instance followed by the stock notice "it was felt prudent to omit or alter this line in translation in the interests of public decency."
Your little story--very sweet concerning your confusion over actually getting the services you pay for so dearly--acted like Proust's madeliene; I hadn't thought of my encounter with "old Boston" culture for decades.
luis: hey, give 'em a break--i can only imagine the damp, dank corners of the most-forbidden stacks into which you've forced librarians to venture in order to fulfill your dark requests.
will: i am so glad you appreciate my pathetic little attempts at writing--what i've found since i've started this blog is, while it's easy to read and appreciate good writing, tryin to actually produce same is a whole 'nother ball game.
hahaha - Funny you mention that. True story - recently enter a library, me, wet and muddy from god knows what. I slosh up to the nervous librarian - who I must've looked a fright - and I asked with intense seriousnous, "Hey, lady - where ya keep yer books on serial killers?" At which lightning flashed outside and the electricity went out. We stood there blinking at each other. But, lights snapped back on momentarily and the librarian escorted me to the true crime section. So, yeah - librarians on the most part are helpful enough. Except in Pheonix, AZ, or the wildes of Texarcana...
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