Mr. Librarian

"So, what brings you to volunteer at the library?", the lady asked. I know she's expecting an answer along the lines of needing the volunteer opportunity to pass a class or get a merit badge or something like that. I could easily make up an answer to this effect. I quietly weigh this option against telling her that I'm a recent college graduate without a job and just need a chance to contribute to something where I don't have to directly help greasy homeless people, sniveling kids, and/or senior citizens with their unsolvable problems.

"I just like the Library", I say as I smile and hand back my volunteer application. She gives me back a look that says she's suspicious that that isn't entirely the case but says nothing. I really do like the library. I've always envisioned myself working in a library, probably not unlike how George Costanza always envisions himself working as an architect. Holding a degree in Construction Management in no way qualifies me to work in a library so volunteering is about as close as I'm going to get right now. At the very least I figure it will give me something to do, and as a bonus will allow me to feel good about myself (read: better than others) for giving my time to the community.

"Can you come and help us for two hours on Thursday from 4-6pm?"
"That will be fine. I'll be here."

On my first Thursday I show up and am unceremoniously led the room where books are returned. There are carts and carts of books and my task will be to organize all the books on a cart so that they're easier to place when employees take the carts out to re-shelve them. As far as service goes this isn't so bad. I don't have to talk to anyone. I can sit there and listen to the employees talk and judge a vast unseen group of individuals on the books they choose to check out.

My first cart is full of romance novels. I can't figure out why a public library would bother carrying these books. Aren't they a dime a dozen at any used book store? Even new from the grocery store check out line they don't cost much. I soon find out that one person will check out 20-30 of these novels at a time. I read the titles as I organized them on the cart: A Pirate of Her Own; Crouching Vampire, Hidden Fang; Flirting for England; The Passionate Diplomat. As I tried to picture the kind of person who would take home 20-30 of these titles I suddenly wished I had asked for some rubber gloves.

The only thing more disturbing than the romance novels themselves is listening to the bitter and unrequited library employees talk about the romance novels coming down the chute. "I just love the covers of romance novels." I'll spare you the graphic description of why she liked the cover of romance novels, though I'm sure you can imagine how her monologue went.

For the most part I am an invisible person in the room. Every now and then one of the employees working in my vicinity will try to make small talk. "So, what brings you to volunteer at the library", they always ask. "Oh, I just needed an outlet for my O.C.D. and organizing books seems to help." I always thought that this was a pretty good joke, but it never even gets so much as a smirk from the inquirer; nonetheless, I keep plying it on any person who will fall into my trap hoping someone will laugh. I find I do this with most jokes I come up with. One of my favorites is one that I use when my family mentions a relative of ours,"oh him, he hasn't worn a pair of pants since he married her." No one ever gets it. The best I get are blank stares or someone who says,"he doesn't wear any pants?"

On the upside this keeps me from having to make small talk with the employees in the book receiving room, and I hate small talk.