Warm For My Form

Can we try a little more personal?

Ok, so I admit it. If I am having small talk with a patron, sometimes I err on the side of truthiness rather than straight up facts in order to expedite the chitchat and avoid giving out personal information. So, if someone guesses my ethnicity, and it's kind of close (whatever that means), I'll just say "yeah, that's right," just to get on with things. Or if someone happens to know my first name, but they totally butcher it to shredded parmesan, I just say "yeah, that's me." Stuff like that. No harm in that, right? The point is to be friendly and get on with the research at hand. So, today, here's what happened.

This lady comes up to the desk and I like her immediately because she looks kind of like Anne Ramsey. She asks me a kind of complicated tax form question, and so I start to work on it. As she waits, she casually says: "this is associated with filing my taxes with the [x] form. You know what I mean when I say that?" and I nod yes, I know what she means. "So you file with that form?"

"No."

Why did I say no? I do in fact file with [x] form. It's just that I could sense an oncoming threat that she was going to want to ask me something kind of personal about it and possibly get all up in my kool-aid. It's just part of the library-customer-service thing: some people be getting too familiar. So the reason I said no was to indicate that although I know what form [x] is, I have never before seen it, filled it out, whiffed it, touched it, nothing. This message, I was hoping, would get me out of any more personal questions about why I use [x] form. But boy, was I wrong!

Her: You don't? And how much do you make a year?
Me: (typing ever so much faster) Umm. I can't really tell you that, I'm sorry.
Her: But you're a librarian, right?
Me: Yes.
Her: And that requires a Master's Degree?
Me: Yes.
Her: So you must make [some arbitrary amount that would make you librarians out there snort milk through your nose].
Me: (silence, typing, silence)
Her: How old are you anyway?
Me: (concentrated typing with furrowed brow)
Her: You hardly look old enough to have a Master's Degree.
Me: (typing but now liking her a bit more)
Her: Are you married? Do you file jointly?
Me: (typetty type type-- is this lady going to carry on an entire conversation by herself?)
Her: I just can't understand why you don't use that form. Do you do your own taxes?
Me: mmmmm (some sound that could alternately sound like yes, no, or yummy yummy)
Her: Do you own your own home? Just how much do you make?
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, I'm not really allowed to answer personal questions (allowed by ME, that is).
Her: (overly indignant) Well, they're not really THAT personal.
Me: I'm sorry (and I'm apologizing because...?)
Her: I just don't understand why you wouldn't use that form!
Me: Here's the print out of that information you wanted.
Her: (kind of pissed off) You should print out another copy to take home for yourself, you know.
Me: (pause, pause)
Her: If that's not too personal of a statement.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl