Gilmore Girls

Saturday's I have to be to work at 9, but since we cannot open the library without 2 employees the public doesn't have access the until 12. This is the only "office" time I have. So right now I am sitting at the circulation desk (the only desk) in my tiny transitional library, glowing about finishing my monthly report early, listening to Integrity and wearing my Johan Santana shirt. I am just enjoying the comfort of shorts and music while I add up reference questions, I'll be changing into a shirt and tie in a few minutes, but this is a nice little vacation from the dress code.

I'm tired of this little room, it's getting a bit claustrophobic. I miss the privacy of my old library, God knows I miss the space. I miss having an office. The offices had no heat, couldn't be used on some days because they would near the freezing mark and I would often find crumbled plaster on my desk, but it was nice to have that space for a few minutes a day where I could take a breath. I would trade the AC for my old hot and dusty library in a minute. I do appreciate The Housing Authority for giving us a space, and the staff have been extremely friendly, I just miss Howe.

After a conversation with the circ clerk about how we both missed the old building I went down to check it out. The libraries PR person thought she may have left her keys while taking pictures. I used that as an excuse to take a walk and visit the old place. I got there and instantly got sentimental. I was talking to the damn building, talking to it, that's how much I miss it. The next day I watched an episode of Gilmore Girls, I couldn't find the remote. In this episode the Mom was opening a Bed and Breakfast in a historic building. She said something that reminded me of Howe. Old Buildings aren't a part of our life, we are a small part of the buildings life. I wonder if the place misses us as much as we miss it.

I'm Only Doing it to Myself

I know I tend to point out the obvious in this blog, but it is the obvious things that bother me. Since moving to the transitional site for our branch we are back to wearing business casual; this means tie, khakis, and slacks. It's not that I mind dressing like this, I clean up very well and I like nice clothes, I just hate ironing every morning.

APL's dress code is a bit unfair when it comes to gender. My female co workers have pointed out that they can wear what ever they want, while male workers are forced to wear the uniform of a cubicle automaton. Following dress code reminds me of the yearly tradition I had in school. I would shed my beat up hoodie, sneakers with holes, and baseball cap. I would find that nice sweater my Mom had bought me the previous christmas along with my church khakis and boat shoes. I would dress "preppy" for a day, it was nice to step out of character and a subtle commentary on what made some peers more popular then others.

Like that one day a year in High School, following dress code has allowed me to make some interesting observations about our society. I plan certain errands after or before work because I know, based on how I look, I will get much better service. This is blatantly evident at the bank, but it's worse at fast food joints. I have gotten ten times better service at Dunkin' Donuts, an establishment I visit at least once a day, if I am wearing a tie and don't have any visible tattoos. This is even true at Taco Bell. I make a run for the boarder way too often.

It's not like I get bad service when I am in shorts and T-shirt. People are often friendlier (well they tend to stare), but on a completely different level, and they aren't as concerned with my reaction to lack luster service. It is if by looking square I will be more likely to complain to management, but when I resemble a dude fresh out of prison I won't mind the extra 10 minutes to make my coffee or burrito.

When Lindsey and I are together it's even more amusing, especially now since we are doing so many things that are wedding related. The other day at Target the clerk checking us out had a slight look of disgust on her face when we walked up to her register. Lindsey pulled out one of the gift cards we got at the wedding shower. The woman looked at it, and then looked at us with surprise. "You guys are getting married," she asked with an air of doubt. Lins smiled back and said, "Yes, in September!" It was if we suddenly became completely different people, her uncomfortably forced smirk became a smile and her tone of voice completely changed. We were no longer two tattooed people buying a paper shredder, we were soon to be newlyweds buying a paper shredder!

It gets more interesting if we go somewhere right after work. Lindsey wears gym shorts and a tank top to work, she works in a warehouse. We look like people from completely different world's. We receive stares from normal people trying to figure out if I am her lawyer, and stares by people who are not so normal, probably wondering if I am her lawyer.

Tattoos are often worn by people living on the fringe of society. That's why I have mine, but next time a 200 pound guy in army shorts and a hoodie comes in for his coffee think about who he may be. Maybe he's the guy who fixes your leaky toilet, or makes sure your bank's computer network doesn't get hacked, hell he may even be your kids favorite "library man." It doesn't take a masters in library science to figure out that judging a book by it's cover is never a good idea.