Perhaps it was my aversion to standing in slow-moving lines that made me wait so long, but I have been living in Chicago for over three years, and it has taken me this long to get a library card. I have tried more than once and left every single one of those times. I just couldn't handle it. Today, I waited it out...impatiently. Aren't you glad that I did, dear reader?
Standing not ten feet from me was the front of the, as the Brits say, "queue", and I was no closer to that promise land than I had be when I stepped foot in the front doors some ten minutes prior. Behind the counter there was one woman doing her best to assist everyone and another doing who knows what. On, what I like to call the "customer side of the counter", was a tall, middle-aged gentleman with a buzz cut. Aside from his choice in hairstyle, he seemed fairly normal and I assumed, by where he was standing and the fact that the woman behind the counter was currently assisting a man and his children, that he was simply waiting for someone to bring him a reserved book or some paperwork. I quickly deduced by listening to him that this was not the case.
Buzz Cut turned towards the man who was being assisted at the time and said, "Your kids love to learn. That's good."
I rolled my eyes. It just sounded so fake. Plus, how does this dude know these little kids are intent on learning? They may have been forced into the library by their father and this could cause them great emotional distress in the future--a fear of books, perhaps. This did not occur to Buzz Cut. He talked, and he talked, and he talked until I thought I would kill him. I would just push all of these people out of the way and jab my car key into his temple.
The man with the children had a long ponytail and, at one point, Buzz Cut asked, "How long did it take you to grow your hair that long? Does it take awhile? I once tried to grow mine out, and it got about a foot long and that was all I could handle. "
I am not certain if this man really responded to the line of questioning about his tress. He eventually walked away. The next customer needed assistance with an item she had on reserve, but there were so many reserved items behind the desk she asked the librarian to simply, "Not worry about it," and she would come back at a less busy time. (Is there one? When is that? I want to be here then, as opposed to now.)
"Are you sure," the woman asked.
"Of course she's sure. She's understanding," commented Buzz Cut.
The girl left without her reserved item. Buzz Cut ranted.
"You know, you can find nice people if you just look for them, you really can. And, you know, this is a thing I always ask women, and I mean no disrespect by this, but... where are the men? You know? Where are all the men."
Another customer. Then the librarian's son walked in and they exchanged your typical mother and 12 year-old son words, some of them not kind.
"How old is your son?" asked Buzz.
"He's twelve."
"Twelve going on 30? He likes to act older than you are. Hey, son, you know, you remind me of my nephew. You know that? Did you know you remind me of my nephew?"
"No."
"That's not a compliment. It's not a good thing. You respect your mother."
I was starting to think I really didn't want to stand next to this man. What things would he say to me?
"Oh, I need that jacket!," he said to a woman in a fur coat. Then, it was my turn.
I kept trying to make eye contact with the woman to see if she too thought Buzz was crazy. If this was a normal, Friday afternoon exchange I'd like to know. You know... so I could come back with some sort of recording device, because this is one loopy, talkative mother fucker. This lady was all business.
"I just need to get a library card," I said. In my head, though, I screamed "Please don't say anything to me! I don't know how I'll react!"
"You already have a card, don't you?, " she said.
"No, I don't."
"Really? Never? You just must have one of those faces."
"I've heard..."
"Yeah! She does! She's got one of those faces and you know something else? She's honest!" As if Buzz Cut has encounter much library fraud in the past. This whole situation was weird as shit.
The woman behind the counter started typing my info into the computer as Buzz delivered his dissertation about people and society. The rambling continued, and I tuned most of it out until he landed on the subject of his wife.
"I know you feel bad about your son, and he shouldn't talk to you like that. I know that my wife, she was with a man who just got her pregnant and then he just left the child for dead!"
I couldn't help but think at this point, "I'm sure you've left a couple steps out of that story, Buddy!" but I refrained from saying anything.
"You know? And now I have to be his father, and I don't want to be his father. I sure don't. But what can I do, you know? What can I do? I mean, this man just threw her in the garbage."
It was the first thing he said that struck any sort of chord with her at all. For the past twenty minutes, the woman had only uttered "yeah" or "uh huh." Her coworker started to chuckled, her back turned to the man and the woman, as sassy as she could be said,
"I ain't been thrown in the trash, now. Let's just make that clear, alright? I throw you in the trash! I don't get thrown in that trash! You got that?"
At this point, I had my new library card and was free to go. And I was a little sad, as well. That trip to the library was just beautiful character study. I'll be returning... for books even!
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