Libraries are not always boring, dreary places where everyone has to speak in whispers. They are relatively noisy public spaces where anyone can walk in—crack addicts, homeless people, and even the hoarder lady who spends her days in a corner of the library binge-watching NCIS.
I can be found shelving books about the library, and I’ll admit that it gets repetitive and boring unless I’ve had my caffeine fix for the day. If I’m caffeinated, I’ll obsessively straighten all the books and make sure they are perfectly alphabetized, dreaming of the day when my expertise on the Dewey Decimal system will garnish my future resume.
I often share my shelving experience with my friends by sending them Snapchats of bizarre children’s books, creepy murder mystery titles and occasionally, a page from Fifty Shades of Grey with the key terms circled. “His impressive length,” “versatile liquid,” and “spread-eagled” were among the highlighted words.
Sometimes I think back to one of my first days working at the library, when I discovered the U.S.S. Avengers—diehard Star Trek fans who have meetings the second Sunday of every month at the library. They look at our staff members as if we are untrustworthy aliens, and it leaves me with an unsettling feeling. Half the time I think they are plotting world domination, but I do not plan on asking them to confirm my theory.
The library attracts a bunch of quirky people with very distinct qualities. There is a tall and skinny middle-aged man whose physique resembles a stick bug. He stops by nearly everyday to chat with our gossipy security guy, and fill the library with a sour, musty scent. A miserable, constantly scowling lady brings all her sadness and negativity with her to the library. Her giant old-fashioned glasses magnify her eyes, forcing you to stare into their dark depths as you scan her library card. A bald-headed, 6-foot, 3-inch-tall sketchy white guy who is probably approaching forty reminds me of the cartoons in which all characters wear the same exact outfit each day. His ensemble includes a long, white stained T-shirt with navy blue baggy sweatpants and brown leather Sperrys without socks.
The most frustrating, yet entertaining thing about my job is when people overreact when I tell them they have a 50 cent fine for an overdue DVD. The library takes the due dates seriously, because honestly, how else is it going to make any cash? And 50 cents, dude, what is that really going to buy you?
Now that I’ve slipped in the fact we circulate DVDs, I’d like to add to the timelessness of libraries. Sure, their purpose is changing, but with the “technological revolution,” libraries have had to adapt. I think fondly of my experience working at the library when I print sources for research papers and other assignments, albeit twice a semester. Or while I’m studying in the quiet corners of the Art History Library, where I can discreetly sneak sandwiches and drink coffee without anyone telling me off. Libraries have been essential to my education, just like they were for my parent’s generation, even if in different ways, and I will continue taking advantage of their services.
Bottom line: there are many resources offered by libraries that will still be necessary in the future. Some will use it like I do, as a place of refuge for my studying while others who do not have access to the Internet, computers, or printers will use it for those purposes. The services that librarians provide are too important to toss aside. Besides the technological services libraries offer, there are still some questions that the Internet cannot answer that require the knowledge of a trusty, perhaps cranky, librarian.
Laura Curry