Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Freaky deaky morning

Mood: Tailspin
Hair: Big clip in back

9:00 a.m.

Can’t check a book in because a) the bib record is tied up [so I free it]; b) an item attached is tied up [so I free it]; c) another item attached is tied up [so I free it]; d) the patron record with the reserve on it is in use [so I free it]; e) that patron hold can’t be accessed.


So I call one of the Gs [system administrators] for help. HE goes through the same procedure – it at least is quite validating to know that I did it all right – and can’t get anywhere either. He is calling the company that designed the database we use.

The title of the book? In praise of slowness: how a worldwide movement is challenging the cult of speed, by Carl Honore.

9:30 a.m.

WHAT?!? I’m supposed to be on Reference this morning?! Nice of The Scheduler to a) ask if that worked for me/warn me ahead of time, AND b) ‘remind’ me as I sat at my desk in the workroom happily cataloging away and dealing with the above problem. The latter alone took over 20 minutes.

I arrive at Reference a half hour late to find none of the computers on (except the Internet ones, which patrons have clearly done for themselves), the newspapers in a snarl in the reading room, and my mood in the sewer. Meanwhile, Scheduling Person’s schedule hasn’t changed, even though she’s perfectly certified to do Reference. No. God forbid she should change her schedule.

Grr. GRRRRRR, I say!

Of course, the first patron I saw out here is The Guy Who Swore at Me in Traffic (TGWSAMIT). Hella day.

11:30 a.m.

The computers are shit today. There have been more weird problems like the first one. Very annoying. We should just go home.

Cataloging? HAH!

I'm putting my headphones on and the hell with the rest of the staff. I checked: I'm NOT ON REFERENCE the rest of the day. Unless she changes the schedule (a pretty common occurrence), in which case I'm screwed. Here's the situation: since returning from vacation (last Thursday), I have gotten through exactly 6 things of all the stuff that I left carefully arranged before going away. SIX. woof

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