Now, friends, let me tell you…I don’t know much about books, databases, the Dewey decimal or, really, anything related to being a librarian. But, after observing the Bea, I have assembled a list of tools that I think will help you, should you ever decide to work in a library.

1. a hammer.

2. box cutter, a broken one is good enough.

3. paper, lots of paper so that you can print out forms.

4. a pair of pliers.

5. lots of old cardboard boxes. the oldest, grossest ones you can find.

6. white-out.

7. a computer equipped with Microsoft Word. Oh, and the Internet.

The other day, the Bea used almost all of these tools within a few hours. Now, if you’ve never seen an elderly woman handle a broken box cutter, let me tell you, it’s…I don’t have words. She was fearless with that thing. And the blade pops out at any time, and the Bea’s skin is so dangerously close, only an inch or two away. I can’t keep myself from openly cringing, yet I am powerless to stop the Bea from using it when she’s determined to open a stubborn box. I’ve seen her cut herself on the inner workings of both the copier machine and the color printer, but friends, nothing makes me as scared as this broken box cutter.

I didn’t find the white binder last night. I looked, but I couldn’t find it. Shouldn’t it be glowing, or radiating heat? You don’t put one woman’s lifetime of work in just any old binder.

I did, however, eat a big piece of cake. Hmmph.

Friends, I’m sorry, but I am just a bit bitter today. Patrons keep asking me for money, for printing. Do I look like I’m made of money?

I’ve heard every story.

1. My money’s in my car.

2. I’ll pay you back.

3. I only need 50 cents.

No, no, and no. Stop asking me for money.

Sigh. Now I just need to make myself feel better. Only two things will help me accomplish that goal. Finding that white binder….or enjoying a big-ass piece of cake. What’ll it be, friends?

I have a few hours here, unsupervised, and I’m going to look for that binder. Where did you put that binder, fellow drones? Tell me. Tell me what’s in it.

Oh hi there, friends. I didn’t see you. I have to admit that I’ve been a bit preoccupied these last few days. One seems to run into another, and I have to remind myself what I have on my to-do list for this week and the coming weeks.

The Bea seems preoccupied as well, with several ailments and a trip planned to the doctor to address those ailments. Yesterday, as I watched a piece of pollen die slowly in her poofy hair, I was reminded of how old the Bea is and that one day she will depart for The Ultimate Library — one that might have no Internet and where the books are plentiful. For sure, all the patrons know absolutely nothing in the Ultimate Library, giving the Bea the power and importance that only a seasoned, queen librarian like herself should have.

By the end of the day, the pollen was gone from the Bea’s haystack hair. And a fellow drone shared some news with me. The Bea is assembling a binder. For when she passes, friends. I have not seen the binder yet, and I don’t know if Bea will ever trust me to help assemble it. But it will be there, friends, and it will be the key to everything sacred. I was told it was white. Shhhhhhhh. Quiet now. A little part of me wants to put a picture of the Bea on the front. Wearing wings.

The Bea left just now for her appointment, and as she was leaving, helped a student operate an automatic stapler. In the end, the stapler won, and the Bea suggested another mode of paper attachment. “It’s tired,” she said, patting the stapler gently. The fax machine is tired. The printer is tired. Everyone here is tired.

I’m here, friends, and working a “double” shift to cover for another drone. Let me tell you, working here for more than two consecutive hours could be harmful for a person’s health. I have a raging headache, low blood sugar, and I’m plain exhausted.

Clearly, working here has taken its toll on the Bea. Soon after I came in, she returned from a doctor’s appointment. She started listing off a number of health conditions like she was reading a menu, and I was about to ask her who had all these health problems when I realized they were all hers. Sheesh.

I’m thankful that she is occupied today, having just spent more than an hour helping a new professor order books. But first thing’s first. Show this professor how to use a computer, how to open an Internet browser, and how interpret copyright law. I don’t know anyone who needs that much help. Come on, now, professors.

I’m going to try to sneak out of here for a few minutes and eat something.

With the Queen Bea around only sporadically this week, I’ve grown to enjoy the days when I get to pretend I’m the Queen.

I’ve been giving my fair share of dirty looks here in the library. I’m becoming quite good at it, if I do say so myself. I think I could make a decent living this way.

Yesterday, while I was watching, someone took a phone call in the library. The nerve. I stood up, and with my arms crossed, gave him a dirty look while he was on the phone and while he guiltily re-entered the library. There are no phone calls allowed here. The patron was courteous enough to exit in his hallway but maybe assumed that I couldn’t hear his entire conversation. He was wrong.

Five minutes later, as if to test my patience further, another patron unplugged a mouse from a library computer and plugged it into his own. Who does he think he is, taking school property with the drone only a few hundred feet away?

The one rule I always encourage people to break is the no-food-no-drinks. I take pity on the poor souls who follow these rules. One should never go hungry or thirsty while one is studying.