It’s interesting, the things you get asked when your job description is to know everything…
Graeme: Okay, we have plenty of those. Any type or region in particular?
Guy: Yeah…*pulls plastic bag out of pocket* I need to know what this one is. It bit me this morning.
Graeme: I…see.
This isn’t really a dialog exchange, although I could type out quite a few involving this one. You see, we have this one lady who’s quite insane. I even mentioned her the last time I wrote one of these. Whenever she calls, she even talks about the fact that she’s crazy, and none of her relatives want to talk to her. She’s also quite rude. She’ll hang up on you at random, take things from your desk, toss money at you, whatever. What’s so interesting is that 99% of the time all she wants to know is an address or phone number, which we have looked up for her, repeatedly. So we started keeping a file. Whenever she asks for an address or phone number, we check it against the file. If it’s a new one, we add it. Apparently, someone pulled out this file in front of her one day, because she knows we have it, and asks for us to get things out of now. What’s funny is that she still can’t remember what she’s asked for, because she’ll often say that we can’t use the file, as she’s not asked for this one before…which is a sure sign that it’s in there.
As a side note, I should start keeping tally of the number of times I’m confused with a woman from behind because of my hair. Even my ex-girlfriend Ryann has now done it. Luckily, this won’t be going on much longer, as the hair gets to die. I’ll be sure to get plenty of shiny digital christmas pictures for you first, though.
Woman: My, you look awful.
Graeme: Yeah, I haven’t slept in days.
Woman: Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just check these out another day then.
Graeme: Wait, I’m fine…
Woman: Are you sure?
Graeme: Yes, quite sure.
Woman: Okay then.
(Gotta love southern women.)
College Student (Female): I looked for this book, and it’s not there.
Graeme: Do you have the call number?
College Student: 375.046
Graeme: Okay, I’ll go look. *pulls book off shelf* Here you go.
College Student: Ohhh, I was looking down here. *walks to section*
Graeme: Yes, well, .046 is shelved differently than .46 (How much math did you take?)
Woman: How much is colour printing?
Graeme: It’s a dollar a page.
Woman: Ooooh…what if I use my own paper?
Graeme: Still a dollar.
Woman: Well, that doesn’t make sense.
Graeme: Actually, it does. We charge you at cost. The bulk paper costs us next to nothing. Now, if you want to bring your own colour toner, we can start talking about discounts.
*Graeme checks the stacks, finds someone*
Graeme: Sir, if you’re going to check out you need to head up to the front now.
Man: Right now? Okay.
*Five minutes pass, Graeme goes back*
Graeme: Sir, we’re closing.
Man: Oh, you work here?
Gentleman: My hotmail account won’t work.
Graeme: *checks* It appears to have been deleted from their servers.
Gentleman: Can you make it come back?
*Graeme overhears stories about a new, elderly part time employee*
Boss: And then he tried to scan a book barcode with the (ball) mouse. I had to tell him to use the beeper, not the clicker.
Coworker: The clicker?
Boss: He can’t remember mouse.
(He also can’t see the screen, so he never knows what he’s doing, so even trying to train him to use the computer was sort of pointless.)
Boy: That computer says it has a virus! I didn’t touch anything!
Graeme: Okay, let me see.
Boy: It just popped up!
Graeme: Yes…that’s called a pop up ad. Just ignore it *closes window*. It doesn’t mean anything.
Boy: …oh.
Woman: This isn’t typing right…isn’t WordPad the same as Word?
Graeme: No.
Coworker: Can you tell me how to transfer my favourites from this computer to this disk?
Graeme: Yes.
Coworker: How?
Graeme: Just hand me the disk and I’ll do it for you tonight. It’ll take less time than explaining.
Coworker: Okay, thanks!
Graeme: Why are you going to File/Open? Just type the address in the location bar.
Coworker: Won’t that change the home page?
Graeme: …no.
