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By Rebecca Rule How Not to Handle a Complaint: #2



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By Rebecca Rule

How Not to Handle a Complaint: #2
by Rebecca Rule
http://www.state.nh.us/nhla/if3.htm#rule2

-So this patron walks into your library and says,
  "I can't believe you people spent my tax money on
    this book."
  You look up with Michael Caine eyes--cold, bored,
  dismissive.

"Have you read it?" the patron demands.

"My job is not to read the books, madam, it is to
 distribute them."

"Look here," she says, opening to a red post-it.
 "Is this the kind of language a 13-year-old boy should
   be exposed to?
   What would possess you people to put
   such trash in the hands of a child?"

You sigh, deeply. With an impatient flourish, you pull
 a sheet from a file marked
 "Irrational, Irate, and Stupid."

"If you would be so kind," you say,
 "as to fill out this questionnaire, your objection
  will be forwarded to our Committee on Censorship and
  Citizen Complaints."
 Then, crisply,
 "Thank you," and you turn to a lovely young woman with
 pink lipstick and golden hair who is seeking something
 short and Russian.
 You suggest Olga Korbut.
 The lovely young woman giggles.

"Hey," the patron pokes your shoulder.
 You draw back, draw yourself up to your full six
 foot-four- inch massivity, catch her in the beam of
 your Michael Caine eyes--now coldly homicidal.

"What now?" you say.

The lovely young woman interrupts:
 "Is there, like, a Reader's Digest condensed version
  of that book about, you know ... ?"

"War and Peace?" You intuit her question.

"When?"the patron says.
 "When does the committee meet?
  How will I know what happens?"

"You won't," you say,
 "unless you come back in and see the book is not on
  the shelf and then you'll know it's not on the shelf "

"Maybe I could just read the War part or the Peace
 part," the lovely young woman says.
 "I have to have it read by Tuesday for my World Lit
  class.
  Have you read it?
  Could you give me the gist?"

"Perhaps over dinner," you say.
 Your eyes are meltingly Michael Caine--even bluer than hers.

"What is your name?" the patron says.

"What's yours?" you say.
 "Oh, I see, you've written it on the form already.
  I recognize that name.
  Is this thirteen-year-old a relative of yours?
  Is his name Bif?
  Because I know Bif I've had to ask Bif and his
  friends to leave Periodicals on several occasions,
  where they were noisily perusing the arts magazines
  in hope of finding ... how can I put this delicately
  ... nudity.
  And the language those young men directed at myself
  when I asked them to leave was far worse than
  anything you will find in the book about which you
  are complaining, madam."

"Who is your boss?" she says.
 "I want to talk to your superior, RIGHT NOW!"

"My superior?" you say.
 "Hmmm, I can't think of a single one."

http://www.state.nh.us/nhla/if3.htm#rule2

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