Going out of style

I'm all for public access to information. Everybody should be able to read books for free, which is why I’m so disappointed in the DC Public Library system.

Today, in an effort to renew some interest in my job, I decided I should read some books related to my field. I have a list of recommendations from numerous conferences and seminars and some of them even sounded interesting. So, I went to the public library’s website. I was thrilled to find they had an online search option. This would save me from hauling it all the way over there if they didn’t have what I was looking for…brilliant!

One of the books I wanted was an interesting twist on how to change public attitude with simple marketing schemes: The United States of Arugula. I searched for “Arugula.” Sorry, term not found. I tried “United States.” Nope, never heard of that either. I search for some other books with no luck. Already irritated, I call. The man who answers is able to look up the books effortlessly and promises to hold them for me. I give my name with a sigh of relief. Things are looking up.

I head over after work to pick up my books. I stop at the information desk and ask if my books are there. With an annoyed pencil tap, an evil librarian, the likes of which stereotypes about cranky librarians were created, snapped that NO, my books obviously weren’t there and that I should try another identical information desk.

I get there, hand over my library card, only to be told that I haven’t returned the Amy Sedaris cookbook I had loaned over the summer. I am instructed to find the missing book on the shelf or be turned over the to the authorities for book theft. I frantically find cookbook and return to desk. Strange…turns out the book was returned after all. Woman shrugs.

May I please have the books saved for me? Certainly not! They are no where to be found. But, I can have another ignorant shrug. Perfect!

Dismayed, I walk back to the original desk, the one with the smug librarian. There are the books with my name in bright purple marker rubber banded around them, right next to Evil’s mouse pad.

If it wasn’t for my pre-existing soft spot for librarians (thanks to three years living with an actual smart one), I may have strangled someone. I grab the books, check out, and vow never to set foot in that shame hole ever again. No wonder there are only homeless people sleeping on all the tables instead of real patrons. Where are the days of helpful librarians, cheerful book displays encouraging reading, and book drops that don’t have electric fence around them? Shame that even information, it seems, is going out of style.