Working in a library is (for me at least) such a pleasant, enjoyable job on the whole that I think it’s not only lowered my threshold for acceptable noise levels but for irritation and and stress too. I can handle almost any customer encounter with aplomb, maintaining a professional front throughout. Years of handling self-serving, irredeemably-rich cunts when working in finance followed by years of handling self-serving, irredeemably-drunk students when working at a university co-op have allowed me to develop service skills I arrogantly believe to be superior to anyone else’s. In those roles however, the pace of work was so frenetic that there was scarcely any time to reflect and get angry about someone, because the next prick was always just a phone call or queue spot away. In the library however there are often long, quiet periods that give perhaps a little too much room for rumination following a ‘memorable’ encounter.

Today a customer wanted to know ‘why on Earth’ there was a 66p fine on their library account, as ‘there shouldn’t be anything on there’. With no hesitation, and with their library card in hand, I went to check their account on a PC, made a mental note of the related book, when it was originally due back and when it had been returned. I left out the explanation of it being 6p per day for 11 days of the book being overdue – they could do the maths if necessary – and handed the card back. I was then informed that ‘that couldn’t be’ because they had paid fines the last time they were in. When I then volunteered to check what they had paid for they told me not to bother, but then repeated the insistence that it didn’t make sense. I then offered the explanation that the machine only accumulates the fines once a book has been returned, and that possibly fines had been paid on other books before the final book was returned, at which point the 66p would have been added to their account (this is almost ALWAYS the case when these types of exchange occur – also, it’s amazing how many people seem to think that paying a fine once on one book somehow precludes any future instances of having to do it again for something else). This explanation was met with a visible expression of astonishment and confusion that would have made any amateur magicians day. When I offered again to check what they had paid and what it was for, I was again told no – no don’t do that quick little thing that would settle this discussion once and for all, just let me pay the fine in front of you while telling you one more time that the fine didn’t make sense and that it had already been paid but whatever etc.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt the cognitive dissonance of sensing an strong implication to do something for someone whilst they’re simultaneously telling you not to do that thing. My wonderful mum has filled my life with many instances of commenting on a thing that can be quickly remedied (pile of washing waiting to be taken upstairs, me sitting in the seat she was in, having the telly switched onto a programme she doesn’t like etc) and then almost physically restraining me from doing anything about it (“No it’s ok, no leave it, no honestly – MARC! LEAVE IT! IT’S FINE!”) But regardless of this experience, I’ve since spent most of the remaining day replaying this brief, mundane encounter over and over again in my head. I was defeated by someone who was almost certainly wrong about what had occured with their library fine, and held in contempt (by way of my association with the Library) for an imagined issue that was based on little more than an insistence.

I think I would have got over the whole thing quicker if the exchange hadn’t been peppered (and concluded) with repeated shakes of the head in faux exasperation at the situation whilst I tried to immediately solve it. I should have just walked away at the first refusal – maybe I would have forgotten it and not spent 700 words extensively explaining the situation to potentially no-one other than my future self. But then if I’m hoping to write something every day I suppose it will do. Nothing else of note happened today and I’m not about to start writing about my dinner (Quorn Steak pie, boiled new potatoes and asparagus thanks for asking).

I had a late shift today topped off with a few unusually cold hours stood around on the Mobile Library, which may have been part of the reason I finished the day with a weird pain in my hips and upper thighs. On Rae’s recommendation, I forsook watching episode two of Love Island for a hot bath, which I supplemented with a Lush bath bar, a glass of red wine, 12 lit candles and a book of poetry – which I have decided is absolutely fine. “You’re so extra!” Rae chuckled from the hallway. I have no knowledge of what this phrase means, but drew my own conclusions and ceded that this was probably true; but what the hey – dismiss gender normativity in the bathroom and treat yourselves once in a while guys!

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In other news, I’ve discovered the Elis James and John Robins podcast which I’m currently loving. I’ve gone back to December last year to work forwards from there. Should I get through those I imagine I’ll hurtle through the other 200 or so episodes prior too. I’ve popped their forthcoming book into a wishlist too. They weirdly seem to echo a lot of thoughts and interests that I thought were fairly particular (the seemingly unbreakable cycle of giving up booze/taking up booze, obsessing over internet humblebrags and constant updates of what Ronnie O’Sullivan has been up to, naming only three) and they chat and joke with a likeability and ease that evades most radio hosts.