More Tales from the Stacks

While shelving a row or so of fiction, I discovered a couple who had started nesting in the corner near the graphic novels. They had set up a computer with two monitors, had a huge bag and ripped and crumpled paper scattered everywhere. I informed them in a somewhat disbelieving tone that they really needed to find a desk or a table. People sit back there all the time to read where it's quiet, and that doesn't really bother  me as long as they don't get in the way of my shelving, but when they're starting to camp out like it's their bedroom clear in the back where I can't keep an eye out, it's time to start with the shooing motions, meine meinung nach.

I just spoke with an ancient gentleman with incredibly hairy ears and an eye-patch, who wanted books about tractors. All of our books about tractors are in the children's section, according to a cursory subject search. I wish I knew another word for them, but neither of us could figure one out.

It's raining quite steadily outside, which means all of my homeless friends have come in for shelter. They sit and read quietly, which makes them largely preferable to the parents who come up here hauling three or four children/teens, all of whom need supervision, and none of whom want it.