I think it’s having to speak in hushed tones all the time. It just makes people want to scream. But they know they can’t so they have to suppress everything and then it comes out in awkward ways. Or that’s how I feel at least. It’s not healthy.
It’s because I had to return some books to the library yesterday. Usually I go to a different branch, so when I went to this one, I wasn’t sure where the return bin was. After mistaking a large rectangular design in the librarian’s desk for a book slot, I was shamefully forced to ask where it was. The librarian gestured to a sign directly to my right that read “RETURNS” with a helpful little arrow pointing down, just in case you didn’t see the gaping hole in the wall. Which, in retrospect, maybe I did need. I’m flustered and feeling like an idiot now as I take my books out. I start to put them in as I read another little sign that says to drop the books gently. No problem. I can do that. I care about books. You can barely hear them drop anyway. It sounds like I slid them onto a giant silent pillow.
Done with my little mission now, I begin to gather up my bag. And that’s when a different librarian lady from behind the desk says all casual-like: “Just drop them in one at a time type of thing, ok?”
What…the fuck? Nodding like crazy, trying to match her intense level of passive aggressiveness, I say: “Oh, yeah for sure,” before she disappears into the back.
As if we’re on the same team: The “One Book At a Time to Maximize the Amount of Anal Retentiveness in This Library” team. Or as if I’m saying “Oh yeah, for sure, you’re totally right. Thank God you’re here to micromanage this menial task. There are sickos out there who would just put them all in at once.” She probably gets hard at the thought of those books slowly dropping into the magical bin on the other side, one at a time.
She could smell my weakness, I know it. I bet she saw the other librarian point out where the return box is. She thought I was noob at the library and pounced on me to establish her dominance. But I got her number. I know who she is and what she’s about. This ain’t my first rodeo. I can’t wait to take out more books and put them in three at a time. I can hear her screams of agony now. Screw her. Didn’t she see my sweatpants? I’m hardcore. It’s “I Don’t Give a Fuck Day” in the life of Jess.
The girl who just can't play it cool 