I issue books to so many people at the library that I rarely remember a face, but I do get impressions about people when they come up to me. If I’ve had an altercation with someone (usually an elderly society member or an overbearing male academic), I’ll have a very bad feeling about them, but I still won’t recall what they look like. This is one of the reasons why I like my job: it’s as boring as batshit, but I leave everything behind at the door. However I always remember the pretty boys.
A few weeks ago two young girls came up (by ‘young’ I mean early twenties, because I’m starting to feel my age) and I could sense something about them, but couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I started issuing the books and came across one whose date sheet was all filled up, so I got another one out of the drawer. The date sheets are like postage stamps, so we can either glue them into the book, or lick them. I’m too lazy, usually, to unscrew the glue, so I just lick them. When I did it this time, one of the girl collapsed with laughter against her friend, and I remembered what it was about them: they were lesbians, newly in love and finding all things oral very amusing. I fought down a blush, and solemnly issued the rest of the books.
Since then I’ve been using the glue, and I have become very deft. I’m hoping that one of the pretty boys will see me with my hand on the shaft, and will delicately raise an eyebrow.