2002-06-17 � Theresa's Return
I can't contain my elation.
When Theresa saw me, she smiled broadly and hugged me.
The dynamics are a little different this time. Peth isn't working the circulation desk, Katrina is. Unlike Peth, Katrina does not suffer fools, and makes no effort to rescue Theresa from herself. And quite honestly, Katrina's approach leads to a great deal more hilarity.
Let me give you an example. Tonight, the phone rang. Theresa answered it.
"Library," she said.
Often, incoming phone calls are for the reference desk, so I looked up to determine the nature of the call. Theresa furrowed her brow and rubbed the small of her back, 
exaggerating her osteoporosis into a hump. She took the reciever off her ear and rolled her eyes. I could hear the person on the other end indistinctly through the headset.
She picked it back up. "Now, what?"
Katrina looked at me and then turned on her heels and left the area. She did not look back.
"Now, what?" she asked again. "Oh, well, I don't... if we do... they have the... let me see if... when we get to the... oh this is wrong... let me just..."
"What is the question, Theresa?" I was trying to be helpful. I am, after all, the reference assistant. I'm supposed to answer questions.
"Oh, well, he wants to know if we have a book."
"Which book?"
"I don't know. This thing is wrong." She motioned at the computer monitor.
"Find out which book, Theresa."
"Huh?"
"What book does he want?"
"I don't know."
"Well find out."
"Huh?"
"Find out which book he wants."
"I don't know which one."
"I know that, ask him."
"This thing is wrong."
I hit alt-tab and the catalog popped up to the top window. "Gimme the phone," I demanded.
"Now, what was it again?" Theresa was back on the line with the unsuspecting patron. "Barnens? Bartlettes? Branford?"
I sat back into my chair holding my head in my hands.
Theresa continued. "Well, just spell it. Spell it. B. A. Oh, wait, let me get a pencil. Just, or for the love of Mary. I just need a... Here's the thing, but it doesn't... got to get a..."
She set the phone back down on the counter.
"... has to have a sharp... can't get that to... Oh, here's the little thing that comes like that... Would you look at that! Isn't that somethin'! Oh, heavens. Look at it! Wait, now... paper with the... just a scrap... never find anything around here..." Frothy spittle was building up in the corner of her mouth.
She picked up the reciever. "Now, spell that again. G-A... Oh. Wait, now. B-A-R-N-T-S-I-G. So, that's B-A-R-N-T-S... Oh. So, what is it? B-A-R-T-N-S. Is that right? Is that it? B-A-T-R-S-N? Well, how do you spell it, now? What is it? Slow down, let's start over. What is it? D-A-T-E-R-N-S. I think I have it, B...now is it B or V? B? V? B? It's B? It's B? Which is it? B or V? Which? V? B? It's B? Is it V? V? B? It's B, right? B?"
Finally, she gave up on the spelling and decided to just consult the computer. I stood by helplessly.
"Here," she told him, "let me just see what we have here. Let me just... oh I need to... wait, this is a... Ok." Her method of hunt and peck was impossibly slow. "B-I-T-A-N-T-S. Return. Oh, let's see... Oh, for heaven's... Let's see... Ok."
She leaned in, her specs less than three inches from the screen. "They make the letters so small... Ok. Let's see what, we have... Oh."
She touched a line on the screen and said, "No. We don't have that. No book by that name. I'm sorry. We just don't have that."
There was a long pause and then she said, "Ok, well let me do a subject search for that then. Ok. Let's see. First we need to... have to get this off... new search... return... back to the start... have to... keyword... ok. W-O-R-L-D T-R-A-D-E O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-A-T-I-O-N-S. Return. There we go."
"Theresa," I tried to interrupt.
"Have to get to the... See what we have here..."
"Theresa?" I tried to get her attention again. This time I touched her lightly on the shoulder. She shrugged me off, never looking away from the screen.
"Barnetls... Nothing like that... next screen... return... have to get the..."
"Theresa, that wasn't a key word search. You're printing a patron's record. Theresa?" I tried to snatch the phone from her, but she pushed my hand away. I could have taken it by force, I guess, but I didn't want to snap her. I didn't.
"No," she told the caller. "Nothing like that. We don't have any books on the World Trade. Ok. Bye-bye."
Then she hung up and went back to her desk where she resumed her previous activities. Activities that mostly consisted of scratching at skin lesions and staring at a spot on the wall.
Katrina was no where to be found during all of this. Peth would have been working very hard to circumvent Theresa, prevent her from interacting with the public.
So you see. It's a whole new way of life.
Posted at 6:55 p.m.
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