Thursday, July 24, 2008

The Lowest Form of Humor


I once worked with a tiny girl who was a ray of sunshine and one of the sweetest people I ever dealt with. We were both pages at my old library, and we both hated having to shelve books in the foreign section. Our library served a large Chinese population, and the only books we had for them were all gathered in a small aisle, which was larger than the new books section but not by much. Because the aisle was so small, it got disgustingly crowded and stuffy. The only thing I can compare it to is riding a bus in India. It was a nightmare trying to shelve books there, because not only would you have to squeeze your way through and try to reach your arm around people just to shelve a book, but anytime you left a cart near the aisle there'd be five hands digging through it, destroying whatever order you had the books in. My coworker hated working in this section, but she had a strategy for clearing it out to get her work done. It wasn't a complicated trick, but damn was it effective. Basically, when she pushed her book cart to the foreign section, she would make her way inside and pass some rancid, stinking gas. Fortunately I was never there to see it happen, but apparently it did the trick, and the aisle cleared out considerably, save a couple stragglers with a strong love of books and an even stronger stomach.

I once knew someone who'd always been "gas shy," but did use their anal vapor as a weapon one time. He was shelving books in the regular fiction area, which is next to the foreign aisle (I would like to make something perfectly clear right now: I have NOTHING against patrons who read books in other languages. I'm a linguistics major, for Christ's sake.), when he heard a noisy, bratty little kid running around and yelling in Spanish. He walked over and "shushed" him, but the mother did nothing to shut the kid up, and he continued to scream. Luckily, this page had a couple Spanish magazines with him, so he walked over to the foreign section again. He bent over to shelve these on the lower racks, and with his ass pointed in the kids direction, let out something that just felt like it was going to stink. It was silent and warm; the worst ones always are. This person later told me that they heard the kid yell stuff in Spanish as the page walked away, two of the words being "fuchi" and "aqui." He thinks that the boy was blaming his sister, who he was pestering the entire time before the gas attack.

I would like to conclude by saying that this is the lowest form of humor, and I think that these actions were wrong. I merely pass them on as examples of what NOT to do when dealing with the public.

1 comment:

cherrybomb said...

Hey, I'm all for fart jokes...and you never seem to mind entertaining me with them either!