Librarian's Corner IV
By wrackingmybrains
I’m glad to say that, since I’ve been there, we’ve only ever had to call the police to my library once. However, colleagues who work in larger libraries, in less genteel areas, tell me that they have to call in the services of the Old Bill on an almost weekly basis to deal with either belligerent drunks or abusive and potentially violent fine non-payers.
The offending party at my library fell into neither of the groups just mentioned. She was an immaculately made-up Russian in a suit who had politely asked me for some extra time on the computer to finish the business letters she was writing.
As she typed away, a group of schoolboys, regular after-school library visitors, had taken up their customary position in front of the Children’s Computer to play games and watch music videos online.
The problems started when the Russian lady, let’s call her Mrs S, somehow managed to lose one of the documents she was working on. Just at the same moment, the boys on the next computer started laughing at a video they had downloaded. The eldest boy, a teenager called Kasim, called his mother over to see it and she began to laugh as well.
At this point, Mrs S suddenly stood up and accused Kasim of hacking into her computer and stealing her documents. He was, she claimed, obviously now laughing about it and bragging to his mother, who was encouraging him in his criminal activities.
My colleague Jane, a very calm Californian, went over and explained to Mrs S that it was very unlikely that the boys could access her computer from theirs as the machines were not networked and that, in any case, the boys were fully engrossed in the MTV website and rather unlikely to be interested in Mrs S’ business letters.
Mrs S replied that the boys and particularly their accompanying mother, an Irish convert to Islam called Mrs O’Neill, had every reason to be interested in her correspondence as she was writing to Hilary Clinton to inform her that she, Mrs S, was being followed home by ‘Islamist women’ who were plotting to put bombs through her letterbox. After accusing Mrs O’Neill of being part of the letter-box conspiracy and her other, seven-year-old son of being ‘an Iraqi suicide-bomber,’ Mrs S then turned on Mrs O’Neill’s friend, a black disabled lady, who was standing up for the boys, and accused her of being ‘a member of Black Power.’
Jane, understandably, had had enough and asked Mrs S to leave the library but she refused, insisting that Mrs O’Neill and her sons would follow her home and attack her. She then actually requested that we call the police so they could protect her from the supposedly malevolent group of small boys and mothers. Jane disappeared gratefully downstairs to fulfil this request, leaving me to try and calm the situation, which was becoming increasingly noisy, both factions now loudly insisting that the other had no right to be in the country.
Eventually, I managed to get the children and the two mothers to wait in the hall - they refused to leave until the police arrived so that they could vouch for Kasim’s innocence, although I assured them that I would do it myself - while Mrs S sat down quietly at the computer again and resumed her typing, apparently unhindered by her lost document.
Seven o’clock, library closing-time came and the mothers were becoming restless, annoyed that Jane and I had not forcibly ejected Mrs S from the premises. I went to call the police station again and find out what was taking so long.
“Oh sorry, love, we were just waiting for the shift-change at seven o’clock so the others could go for their tea, we’ll just come along now.”
Jane and I could have been murdered by the Russian mafia by now for all the police care, I thought to myself at the time. It just goes to show that the police should pay a little more attention to the activities of sinister Russians in the West End…
In any case, the fuzz arrived eventually and, clearly trying very hard not to laugh, reassured Mrs O’Neill that, no, Kasim would not be arrested. They took Mrs S’ address (which she seemed rather unsure about) and finally got her to leave the library, although not until after Mrs O’Neill and her children had gone safely ahead so that no following home would be possible.
The next day, I looked up the address that Mrs S had given the police on the Internet and it turned out to be a hostel for mentally-disturbed women. My manager sent a letter to the hostel banning Mrs S from the library, but it was returned a few days later; apparently Mrs S has moved on. Perhaps she has gone to Washington to pay Hilary Clinton a personal visit.
short story
library
police
hilary clinton
mafia
I’m glad to say that, since I’ve been there, we’ve only ever had to call the police to my library once. However, colleagues who work in larger libraries, in less genteel areas, tell me that they have to call in the services of the Old Bill on an almost weekly basis to deal with either belligerent drunks or abusive and potentially violent fine non-payers.
The offending party at my library fell into neither of the groups just mentioned. She was an immaculately made-up Russian in a suit who had politely asked me for some extra time on the computer to finish the business letters she was writing.
As she typed away, a group of schoolboys, regular after-school library visitors, had taken up their customary position in front of the Children’s Computer to play games and watch music videos online.
The problems started when the Russian lady, let’s call her Mrs S, somehow managed to lose one of the documents she was working on. Just at the same moment, the boys on the next computer started laughing at a video they had downloaded. The eldest boy, a teenager called Kasim, called his mother over to see it and she began to laugh as well.
At this point, Mrs S suddenly stood up and accused Kasim of hacking into her computer and stealing her documents. He was, she claimed, obviously now laughing about it and bragging to his mother, who was encouraging him in his criminal activities.
My colleague Jane, a very calm Californian, went over and explained to Mrs S that it was very unlikely that the boys could access her computer from theirs as the machines were not networked and that, in any case, the boys were fully engrossed in the MTV website and rather unlikely to be interested in Mrs S’ business letters.
Mrs S replied that the boys and particularly their accompanying mother, an Irish convert to Islam called Mrs O’Neill, had every reason to be interested in her correspondence as she was writing to Hilary Clinton to inform her that she, Mrs S, was being followed home by ‘Islamist women’ who were plotting to put bombs through her letterbox. After accusing Mrs O’Neill of being part of the letter-box conspiracy and her other, seven-year-old son of being ‘an Iraqi suicide-bomber,’ Mrs S then turned on Mrs O’Neill’s friend, a black disabled lady, who was standing up for the boys, and accused her of being ‘a member of Black Power.’
Jane, understandably, had had enough and asked Mrs S to leave the library but she refused, insisting that Mrs O’Neill and her sons would follow her home and attack her. She then actually requested that we call the police so they could protect her from the supposedly malevolent group of small boys and mothers. Jane disappeared gratefully downstairs to fulfil this request, leaving me to try and calm the situation, which was becoming increasingly noisy, both factions now loudly insisting that the other had no right to be in the country.
Eventually, I managed to get the children and the two mothers to wait in the hall - they refused to leave until the police arrived so that they could vouch for Kasim’s innocence, although I assured them that I would do it myself - while Mrs S sat down quietly at the computer again and resumed her typing, apparently unhindered by her lost document.
Seven o’clock, library closing-time came and the mothers were becoming restless, annoyed that Jane and I had not forcibly ejected Mrs S from the premises. I went to call the police station again and find out what was taking so long.
“Oh sorry, love, we were just waiting for the shift-change at seven o’clock so the others could go for their tea, we’ll just come along now.”
Jane and I could have been murdered by the Russian mafia by now for all the police care, I thought to myself at the time. It just goes to show that the police should pay a little more attention to the activities of sinister Russians in the West End…
In any case, the fuzz arrived eventually and, clearly trying very hard not to laugh, reassured Mrs O’Neill that, no, Kasim would not be arrested. They took Mrs S’ address (which she seemed rather unsure about) and finally got her to leave the library, although not until after Mrs O’Neill and her children had gone safely ahead so that no following home would be possible.
The next day, I looked up the address that Mrs S had given the police on the Internet and it turned out to be a hostel for mentally-disturbed women. My manager sent a letter to the hostel banning Mrs S from the library, but it was returned a few days later; apparently Mrs S has moved on. Perhaps she has gone to Washington to pay Hilary Clinton a personal visit.
short story
library
police
hilary clinton
mafia
posted by bitingmylip at 2:31 AM
1 Comments:
Bloody Nora. The library is clearly a den of iniquity.
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