Highs and Lows

There are lots of different varieties of librarian in the wild. Mostly, they are suited to their surroundings, like most creatures in the animal kingdom. Ones who work in corporate oil company libraries most likely field questions about oil and companies. Ones who work in old South American country archives most likely field questions about politics and militaries and spanish (or something). I work in a university library, where any question is valid. This is because people study or research any kind of topic, and legitimize them by attaching them to very vague aspects of culture or language or society or some other kind of ridiculous means that enables a grown person to spend countless hours looking up information on the colors in children's books. I'm not laying a judgement here, at all. I think that's great.

So, one of the perks of my job is entertaining these people in their efforts to find obscure and random information. We could spend hours on something, unless is gets boring, and then the patron is screwed. The problem is, when do you say when? It's really a personal choice. I suppose the professional stance is after a reasonable amount of sources have been checked and you leave them with at least one follow-up lead. But c'mon.

Today I helped another librarian, because the place was dead, search for an obscure Muppet character. The lady insisted she had seen an early 1960's character on a Late Night-type talk show named "Fundinella Grindersnatch." Well, after a few mintues of solid searching, nothing came up. We found some history of Jim Henson and his first short program called "Sam and Friends" which aired before one of those late night shows. We also found a character named "Taminella Grinderfall." That sounds like the reasonable answer. Right?

Nope. Our patron was sure that she had the name right. Hmmm. Well, let's keep going, I guess. It turns out the character was a witch. So was Taminella. She had a "political pot" which she stirred. So did Taminella. When to say when? The lady had to leave to catch a ride, so I was spared. We tried to find a good biography or history of the muppets for this lady, but it turns out she was just curious, and it didn't really matter. That might have upset a lesser librarian. But I got paid to spend a lot of time researching the Muppets, so what kind of jerk would I be to complain?

You can never prove a negative. We couldn't prove that Fundinella didn't exist. But we had reasonable evidence that this other character was what she wanted. Sometimes our persuasive powers aren't too great. But that's not our job.

If that was a perk, here is a downer. Sometimes, during a lull in desk action, we librarians get to talk to one another. And sometimes I lay down the funny like no one's business. I get a good phrase in my head and I'm racing to deliver it in just the right way. Oh man, I'm a freakin' genius and my colleagues are going to keel over when the find out. They are rapt with attention. Hanging on each delicate word. [Sound of needle scratching a record.] Suddenly a patron comes out of nowhere looking suspiciously like he has a question. Sigh.

By the time we are done professionally servicing this dude, the moment is passed and we are all onto other things. My almost-genius is exactly that. Almost. But do I harbor any ill will towards that random, innocent person?

You bet I do.