I love my job, really I do.
I may blog ad infinitum about nerds, stalkers and crazy patrons from “the outside world.”
But rest-assured, I do love my job.
There are days, however, where I’ve got to stop and wonder is this really the best use of my abilities?
Today is one of those days.
I spent roughly half-an-hour this morning fighting with a jammed stapler.
It was jammed because some nerd wandered in—roughly eight seconds after the doors opened—and promptly began banging on it with the intent of attaching three—count ‘em THREE—tiny pieces of paper together.
He then looked up at me with those sad doe eyes that everyone under the age of 21 comes fully-equipped with and asked me to fix it.
I offered him the use of three other staplers, but he said he wanted to use the jammed stapler, because he liked the size of the staples better and he only liked to use “Swingline” staplers.
Now, I don’t get why anyone in the world—aside from Milton, that is—has a stapler preference, but this dude certainly did.
So rather than use one of the other staplers or some paperclips or anything that would be more logical than waiting…he waited.
He sat and watched me fix the stapler he’d jammed. It took forever, because apparently he’s majoring in Stapler Engineering and this was some sort of well-concocted field research for a final thesis.
I eventually got in unjammed only for him to pound the crap out of it again and rejam it, luckily this time he’d already fastened his three sheets—of what I can only assume were some Twilight fan fiction—together prior to the second wave of stapler-jammage.
I then spent another ten minutes unjamming the stapler, for a second time, prior to 9:30 in the morning.
Nothing is right about this.