Hey, let's just get rid of our books. We don't need 'em.

OK, so the library is about to receive a makeover. We're going to be funked up. You know the deal - twee vinyl cut-out designs on the wall, "funky" furniture etc, which no doubt some time in the near future will scream early 21st century library interior design. Apparently, we need to look and feel more like a funky book store, and less like a library. This from some consultant guy who has no library qualifications and has never worked in a library. But wait, apparently he revolutionized gift soap baskets when he worked at The Body Shop. Anyway, so in order for us to look like a store, we have to get rid of thousands upon thousands of books, which are being plucked from the shelves and either relegated to the trash or the book sale. There must be something thrilling about banishing a book, as some staff have embraced the task with unquestioning relish. There's this old bird there who's been working at the library forever and a day and she's basically pulling anything that she hasn't heard of or who she doesn't like off of the shelves. Bob Dylan? Trouble-maker. Into the bin with his biography. Iggy Pop? What is that? Some kind of soda? Sayonara. It's really quite sad to see what was once a very good collection being slashed and burnt so room can be made for an Ikea floor show.

Bongos. Why?

I don't know why it is, but libraries just ain't what they used to be. Sure, it used to be kind of a bummer that you couldn't make a peep, but at least it was one place where you could get some peace and quiet - a rare commodity these days. Now, you're pretty much hard-pushed to find a public library where you can get some quality quiet time. In fact, librarians are pretty much falling over themselves to make libraries the noisiest places on the planet. Take for instance the other day when our library hosted a fucking drumming workshop of all things. Picture this: it's the middle of the week and there's just a low, pleasant hum of solitary people sounds: people typing on computers, listening to music on their headphones or snoring away in an easy chair. Now imagine 20 or so kids pounding away on 20 or so bongo drums. It's pretty much akin to the roar of a bulldozer in a forest obliterating the birdsong. Pretty much cleared the place out. Stupid.

Customer Service Queen

So every workplace has its Supremo Brown-Noser, right? The asshole who is so far up the boss's ass that they pretty much reek of shit 24-7? Where I work it's no different. "Rita" is known far and wide in our little library land as the Queen of Customer Service. She's always getting compliments in the customer feedback box from customers and as a result, the boss thinks the sun shines out of her ass. Here's "Rita's" secret: 1. Have long, leisurely chats with your customer. 2.Ignore the fact that while you're swapping lengthy stories about your snotty-nosed offspring, your co-worker is running around serving the five or six customers who are silently fuming about having to wait to get some attention. 3. Once you've wound up the fascinating and hilarious anecdote session with your customer, direct them to the customer feedback box. 4. Snoop through the feedback box, picking out only the feedback forms that sing your praises and wave them in front of the boss. What an asshole.