The West Desk

Welcome to the west desk. this used to be a newsletter, now it's a blog... here we'll discuss problems, funny stories, policy changes-- pretty much anything we need or want to talk about on the job. if you're library security and want to write for it (please do) just email 727 at his gmail. Important: The opinions expressed on this blog are not endorsed by HBLL Security as a whole or the Brigham Young University Police Department.

2005-01-06

Multitasking

You know, I always sing my own praises of being able to multitask like a madwoman. But my first day back in the dear ol' HBLL really bruised my reputation. And my ego.

Story is: The tattle-tape on those d*** things for physics students were making the 3Ms beep like crazy. And if the tattle-tape didn't, the brand new textbooks did. Needless to say, the people shuffling in and out of the library were making the 3ms chirp like a cageful of canaries. So, the atrium is ringing with their song, there's a billion people stopping by the desk to ask where the Wilkinson Center is, and I'm somehow making eye contact with every sweet little RM who is desperately ready to shed his single-ness.

That, and the books are piling up at an alarming rate--even faster than they did on finals week. I seriously thought of building myself a little castle right there on the desk, and staying there until spring.

So I call Circulation to bring me a cart. But just as I pick up the phone, 3 different people set off the alarm, several more approach East with their stupid questions, and I yell after a guy trying to bring ice cream into the library. Circulation tries to talk to me:

"Library circulation. How may I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm at East and, uh..."

The alarm beeps again. I put the phone on my shoulder. "Sir? Sir? Can you walk through again?"

"Hello?"
"Sorry. I'm back. I need a, uh..."

"Hey, can you tell me where the MARB is?" Some guy, with his class printout in his hand.
"Sure," I say, shifting the phone to my shoulder again. I pull out the map, peer at it, and can't find the bloody building anywhere. "I think it's south of the library..."

"You need a what?"
"Oh my," I say, putting the phone to my ear again. "I'm sorry. I need a...uh..."

The word "cart" somehow escapes me. I stare off, wracking my brain for what it was I needed, and why I had called, and who I was talking to in the first place.

"A cart?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. A cart. Thank you."
*Click*

As I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but smile. Maybe I have a Y chromosome lurking around there someplace...

4 Comments:

At 7:42 AM, Blogger Mr. T said...

It sounds to me that rather than being the proud owner of a Y chromosome you simply lack the ability to prioritize.

 
At 1:36 PM, Blogger Etelmik said...

Maybe it's not a lack of ability to prioritize. Maybe it's not the Y chromosome. Maybe it's...it's....I dunno, SOMETHING, but...I think it's...oh...anything that um...isn't what you think.

 
At 2:52 PM, Blogger The Former 786 said...

"...making the 3ms chirp like a cageful of canaries." Yeah right! If the canaries happen to be from the DEPTHS OF HADES!!!

Oh, and guys only lose their train of thought when there is sports, food or bikinis in front of their eyes.

 
At 4:02 PM, Blogger Scott said...

... or cars, Former 786. Don't forget cars.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home