I Hate Stupid People Who Want Staplers

I've now worked at the Baker-Berry Library for almost three months, and I've come to a single conclusion:

Dartmouth undergrads are the dumbest, laziest people in the world.

Really.

Not only are they generally demanding and really rude when things don't go their way, but they have some kind of horrendous expectation that it is my dream in life to make sure their panties don't get into a knot.

First of all, they should consider themselves lucky. You see, here at Baker-Berry Library, we have more money than the Wheaton library: we have a "Cafe" where Wheaton had a "Water Fountain." We have a "Preservation Department," with a 25 person staff and an entire floor dedicated to fixing books, where Wheaton had a "Creepy Old Guy With A Cane Who Taped Bindings Together Once A Week, Then He Died." Keeping with this theme, we have office supplies that are provided free of charge to students; there are hole punchers and staplers everywhere, jars of little pencils, paper clips, paper cutters, etc. Very convenient, yes. I was impressed, seeing as when I needed such things at the Wheaton library, I brought my own with me, even when I worked there. However, at Dartmouth, people expect that these things be given to them, in addition to other services, like bringing mail to the post office for them, because they are above things like "walking" and "sending their own mail." Our willingness to be service providers, however, leads to many situations in which we are treated like doormats. I, not taking well to the role of doormat (especially when the patron in question is not male, attractive, or marginally interesting), often bristle at these occasions, and get to exercise my "trying not to kill you" acting ability.

For instance, today, I'm working at the Info desk for three hours, and not only is our stapler broken as usual, because impatient students are constantly slamming the poor thing with their meaty fists, but we're out of staples anyway. So I make a little sign and tape it to the desk saying, "Stapler Broken. Use Stapler at Circ Desk," which is about 10 feet from where I'm sitting. Literally. But in the next 5 minutes, I receive no less than 25 questions of, "Where is the stapler?" So I make two more signs: "Stapler broken" and "Stapler at Circ." I even dug around in the desk and found a whole pile of paper clips, then made a FOURTH sign saying "NO STAPLER, USE PAPER CLIPS," with a little arrow pointing to a circle in which I put the pile of paper clips. Then I tried to get some work done. Yet every sentence I wrote was interrupted by, "Where is the stapler?" and "where did the stapler go?" and "I thought you had a stapler?" and "What's a Circ Desk?"

I even had one girl stand in front of me, scanning the desk wallpapered in signs saying STAPLER AT CIRC, but her eyes only saw the absence of stapler, not the presence of signs. I could see her neuron pathways unraveling before me as she sputtered: "But. . uh. . . I. . . STAPLER!!!"

So sad.

After that I started keeping a tally. By question #318, I was seriously ready to shove the broken stapler up somebody's rectum. Given the stressed out, anxious nature of college life, I suppose I can understand the frustration which comes from things not being in their expected location. I understand people are used to it being there, but isn't literacy a requirement to get into school here? How about observation and logical deduction? How about the fucking decency not to roll your eyes and have a hissy fit in front of me because you have to go ONE DESK OVER to STAPLE YOUR DAMN PAPER!

Oh no. Cry me a river.

I even had one girl get in my face and say, "Broken, huh? Well, I've got some information for YOU - how about the fucking library invest 5 fucking dollars for a new fucking stapler?!" I said I'd take it under advisement, although personally, I don't see why all these Abercrombie-wearing, Ugg boot-walking, Tiffany bracelet snots can't drive their '04 BMWs down to WAL-MART and shell out 2 bucks for their OWN STAPLER.

I have my own stapler.
It's on my desk.
In my ROOM.
I staple papers with it.
I don't expect the library to provide me with one.

At Wheaton, I seem to recall most people owning a stapler. It was up there on the "necessary items list" of school supplies, along with "pencils" and "beer" and "Milanos." Less then once a week did I get asked for a stapler at the Wallace Library, and then it was treated as a favor. People were grateful. And nobody ever swore at me. At Dartmouth, however, these stapler-related riots are a common occurrence. So much so, in fact, that we've had ENTIRE DEPARTMENTAL MEETINGS ABOUT IT. Meetings about staplers. And how to break up riots. It's ridiculous.

And yet, The Stapler is not the only source of tension in Baker-Berry - oh, no. It's only the most common. But these kids will get bent out of shape if any office supply is not readily available.

For instance, last week we had a kid come up to the Circ Desk looking for a pencil. Unfortunately, the ones provided in the jar at the desk did not satisfy him, because he wanted one with an eraser, and the pilot pencils had none. "Don't you guys have erasers?" he asked, taken aback. No, we didn't. "At places of business," I explained, "one generally uses pens." He didn't like that answer. "You saying you never make mistakes?" he asked, gripping the counter. "Never," I said. "What do you need it for?" He then proceeded to rant that he was in the middle of a final and needed an eraser. It didn't even DAWN on him to, I don't know, bring his OWN PENCIL AND ERASER TO A FINAL EXAM, because Dartmouth students are above things like that. What the HELL were we thinking not having FUCKING ERASERS?! What was he supposed to DO?!

I calmly suggested that he feel free to beg for a pencil from other people in the library, to which he knocked over the pencil jar on the desk and stalked off. I tuned to my boss and said that somebody should go back to Boy Scouts and learn the motto, "Be Prepared." I mean, really. It's our fault you were an idiot? Didn't you learn in high school to bring a pencil and eraser to a final exam? Being prepared is part of the college game, is it not?

I'll never forget my first final exam period at Wheaton - the test was for Solar Systems, it was 50% of our grade, and it was all essays. About halfway through the exam, both my pencils (complete with erasers) broke, and my mechanical one ran out of lead. I searched the entire science center only to discover NOT ONE SINGLE PENCIL SHARPENER I FOUND WORKED.

Did I bitch about it? Did I cause a scene? Did I knock over things? Nope. I did what any reasonable person would do.

I ate my pencil.

Chewed the shit out of it.
I got splinters in my gums, but I finished the final, and I got an A.

Go Wheaton.