OK, it's official. Nobody likes the reference librarian. I've had a total of one reference question (and the usual issues with the Pharos printing station). I suppose I could blame the weather (it snowed for the first time last night and now it's clear and very, very cold). Or the disgusting coldy cough I have. (I know, it's really super inviting. It's just more trouble than it's worth to find someone to work an evening around here with our miniscule staff.) But the last straw... I just saw a person, about 10 feet from the reference desk where I'm sitting eagerly awaiting, ask one of our homeless regulars if he could tell her what a catalog location meant. (He nicely directed her to the circulation desk.) So apparently the new question hierarchy is: fellow student, homeless patron, circulation student employees, and then the reference staff. Woohoo! I think that means it's ok for me to duck out 5 minutes early now.

Today is difficult patrons from far away day.

The intense gov docs special collections one wasn't bad, though I wish he'd said his time was limited before I spent 20 minutes pulling files.

The one who threatened us with legal action because we weren't appropriately accomodating his disability was a little less fun. Librarians are too nice. We don't even run the accessibility services in the library--we just provide the room. Apparently the stuff was moved to somewhere else on campus because the room is unavailable. (Daily mantra: we had a fire.) Apparently that's not good enough. The accessability station in our computer area isn't good enough. (It's a bad area for everyone--it's a temporary location and no one's happy with it.) And, frankly, it seems like the effort of writing all these letter-y things and getting a lawyer seems like more effort than just buckling down and making due with the crappy temporary space.

I came into work about 15 minutes late this morning, having detoured to Wally World for groceries. It was nice enough to trek from the faraway land where I park, so I walked in from the parking lot. I get up the hill and what do I see? The street in front of the president's house (empty, of course, since we can never keep a non-interim university president for very long), and thus, the library (uh, not empty), is blocked off. Not just by cops, but by sheriffs. And sheriff K-9 units. A couple of the city's and campus's finest, too. And a Channel 13 news van. I hurried into the library--without taking the shortcut along the president's driveway, since it was teaming with the guys in brown on foot--figuring it was better to be at work in the case of a lockdown rather than being stuck outside. Nobody's really told us anything. I asked the officers wandering the library and their stoic response: "We're looking for somebody." Thanks guys, I knew that--I got more information from coworkers/bystanders I asked outside.

What I can gather, from hearsay and two local news web sites (the third is lagging behind this morning and reporting on the university being turned down by state officials for a new fire alarm system for the dorms--great!), is that the sheriffs arrested someone for robbery. He was somehow injured, so they decided to transport him to the university hospital (conveniently located across the street and also serving as the county hospital). He escaped and somehow made it to the center of campus. (Please, please tell me they weren't transporting him through campus.) They think he went towards the president's house. And now they're looking for him. Sigh... at least they don't think he's armed.

So one of my regulars, a grizzled white-haired hippy type, walks up to me and tells me he's having a great morning. First, he'd been walking on sprained ankles for six weeks in pain--this morning, after new medication (Motrin, to relieve the swelling), he felt good as new. Then, he turned on the Today Show. They announced that Casino Royale got bumped out of first place at the box office by... Happy Feet! As he said, far fuckin' out.

I just got an email from my boss asking me to respond to a telephone reference question because she a) can't find her long distance code (none of us can find anything because we're still displaced because of the fire) and b) the 4 button on her cell phone doesn't work because she spilled wine on it. Huh...

Wow.... I just had a patron tell me about his experience being questioned by the police and a fire marshall about whether or not he caused our fire. (Apparently he'd been homeless at the time and staying in a shelter--which had a strict sign-in at 6 pm policy and was able to clear himself with their sign-in sheet.) How absolutely bizarre. Maybe that's why so many of our homelss patrons didn't come back after the fire--fear.