Opalescence

I had an encounter recently that’s made me wonder about customer service and librarianship in general. Near closing time at one of the branches I was at (I cover several others in addition to my own, but don’t get me started on that), a well-known (to the staff) patron–who has a reputation of being more difficult and less liked than average–came in and asked for access to the Internet. Since it was so close to closing time, our reservation system had powered down the computers and it was impossible for this person to get access.

In a move that I later caught a slight amount of grief for, I asked her what she needed from the Internet. What it boiled down to was a print-out of a single page, and after a somewhat haphazard search, I found what she needed on one of the staff computers and printed out the page for her. It took me maybe three or four minutes to do, and led to the branch closing slightly later than normal to the public. My colleagues who witnessed the event had interesting reactions, from, “Wow, you sure are nice to do that for her now!” to “You haven’t learned yet, boy! You should have told her you can’t log on, you’ll have to come back tomorrow, end of story.”

I understand why my co-workers reacted the way they did. They’ve been around a while, and have a long history and lots of experience with a multitude of patrons, from the easy-to-please to the not-so-easily-pleased, from the smooth cats to the rough rhinos, and also the singular “regular” customers who may come at an inconvenient time, or may not have the highest of social graces. I’ve only been around a few months, and am still learning the ropes of the system, and perhaps my handling of these patrons leaves something to be desired.

For my own part, I explained (to varying degrees of non/agreement) that given what she needed, I simply couldn’t tell her no. Yes, she came in as we were starting to close (and she did know it); perhaps she could have prepared a little better and made our lives a little easier. But then again, I don’t know the whole picture; maybe she couldn’t. And really, in my opinion, when someone needs a small print-out of a web page, and it’s what I perceive as a genuine need, I really don’t have it in me to refuse a patron such a simple degree of help.

I don’t really expect to change my approach to the situation, should it arise in the future. But I don’t really begrudge my colleagues their responses. After, I don’t know everything about the patrons they’ve been dealing with for years. Maybe as I learn, I’ll change, but in the mean time, if getting someone something they need means I’ll close a couple minutes later than usual, I’ll choose the tardiness unless the circumstances are extraordinary. Otherwise, I’ll get one of those guilty feelings that accuses me, “Why did you go into librarianship if you can’t be bothered to help others?”