In my home town there’s a security guard (not a cop) who patrols a library and does…absolutely nothing. That’s because nothing happens at this library. Nobody masturbating, or getting out of hand.
He just walks around and looks at people reading books, and of course, there’s not much for him to do.
Man, I wish I had a job like that.
Occasionally, I think, he finds someone with a soda, and has to tell them: “No drinking in the library.”
I wonder how much they pay him, how much they pay him for doing virtually nothing.
We are not talking about reasonable adults here. Most of the problem patrons seem to have mental health problems.
My local branch has a cop stationed in it. Mostly she rides herd on the unsupervised, unruly kids. Sometimes we chat a bit when she’s not busy. She also insists on carrying my books out to my car, as I have mobility issues.
My local branch library also has Dewey the Guinea Pig, who apparently enjoys being surrounded by books, even if she’s not allowed to nibble on them.
[QUOTE=Ultraviolet]
My favourite “problem patron” was the woman who was convinced that Queen Elizabeth was her mother, so she would write “corrections” in all of our British royalty books, and add herself to all the family trees![/QUOTE}
Queen Liz seems to be a favorite with the female mentally ill–and of librarians who deal with them. Ours, poor soul, was actually fairly aggressive. She insisted that she was the Queen’s older twin. Doctors attending the royal birth inserted a silver plate in her head so she’d always be able to prove that she was the rightful heir to the throne. She was furious when we couldn’t find proof of her claim.
My library has a security guard and he’s needed. Most of the homeless don’t give us real problems. The mentall ill who were dumped on the streets (thanks, Reagan! I hope you’re frying in hell) are another matter. They come to the library because it’s safe shelter–but librarians aren’t social workers, and there just ain’t much we can do with them or for them. He was hired when a gang decided the library was their turf and nobody else’s. Fights, vandalism, books trashed and oh yeah, intimidating anybody who wasn’t in their gang. They moved on the mall after being rousted from the library, but it took years to coax ordinary library users back.
The peaceful librarian life? Ha! I’ve been spit on, had obscenities yelled in my face, rousted drunks pissing on the furniture, booted people having yowling monkey sex on the elevator, the stacks and the readers’ nook in the Children’s room. That doesn’t even include the furious twit waving the 9" hunting knife, going postal over a 20 cent fine.
That’s why you won’t hear me slagging on cops. They know what we deal with, and they’re right there to help.
But then the ‘ssshhhh’ sound would be coming from the device as well as the smell of burned flesh and the sounds of wretches screaming.
Ok, I have no real problem with it as long as they change the sign to read “Public Libertine”.