Shortcuts, Haircuts and God

There needs to be a shortcut from my desk to the outside world, and I’m afraid that if one isn’t made soon, I may start to dig my way out with my soupspoon.

As you walk into the library, to your right you are looking at the part of the building that houses my office, but in order to get to that office from the front entry door, you must walk half the length of the building, round the glass wall, and then walk back to the original area of the building you started from, on the other side of the wall. This isn’t so bad except that you have to walk through many patrons, near the Adult Reference Desk, and worst of all, past the Circulation Desk.

Minefield.

Any number of hazards stand before me, seeking to delay or distract me at best, and completely derail or destroy me at worst. Getting to the safety of my desk is no easy task.

Except that this isn’t the way I’m supposed to enter the building; it’s just the shortest distance with the fewest mines.

We are expected to enter through the staff entrance at another corner of the building, which extends the length of my walk, but worse, it increases the number of mines I have to avoid, many of which will present themselves to me before I’ve even clocked in. Flying Spaghetti Monster help me if I show up at an unusually early time, and then there is such a to-do about my arrival from the folks who work in the rear of the building, those hermitic people in Administration, that I damn near turn and walk right back out the door. There are perky people in the locker area, there are talkative people at the copier, and then I have to pass all the desks of the people who have only themselves as company unless a wayward staff member wanders around to use the copier or another scurries through coming in or leaving each day. I try to walk briskly past the cluster of desks, simply saying, “Hello-hello-hello,” in quick succession so as not to leave a window of opportunity open for how-are-yous. I’m not a very talky person unless I feel quite close to someone. And even then I need to ease into work mode like I ease into consciousness over a course of three hours after rising every morning. I’m not born chipper. I have to will myself to be so, and it requires great effort. Every smiley, sprightly, vivacious face that greets me before I’m emotionally prepared appears to me as a grotesque caricature with clown-like features, seeking to suck my very soul out of my tired eyes.

The parking lot is another area of potential ambush. I’ve been accosted by overly-friendly, talkative patrons before I even get my car doors locked, and all I can think of is that I’m going to have to tell my boss to clock me in starting when I stepped out of my car today, because I don’t play nice with many of these fools if I’m not being paid to do so.

It would be so wonderful if I could get to my office and settle in before people even knew I was there.

* * *

Today I took a long lunch and went to get a haircut. Megan, bless her soul, always gives the most hypnotic, pleasurable head massage as she’s conditioning my hair before the cut, and I’m such a greedy bitch that I try to engage her in deep conversations while she’s shampooing me so that she’ll get distracted with talking and keep going and going. Today she told me a long story about her boyfriend, best friend, condo drama, and I thought I was going to start moaning in the chair when she finally stopped. If she hadn’t cut my hair so short, I’d go back more often.

* * *

Last night, a young boy approached my desk and we had a hilarious exchange.

Boy: Can you show me where the gee-oh-dee section is?

Me: Um…do you mean the author’s last name starts with G-O-D?

Boy: No, where are the gee-oh-dee things?

Me: Honey, I need you to tell me what you’re looking for, because we don’t have a section called G-O-D.

Is he talking about God? Someone comes to me looking for God? That’s funny. Because I have no fucking clue where to tell you to find that, kid. Somewhere near the unicorns maybe.

He sighed heavily, frustrated with my ignorance.

Boy: Godzilla movies! Where are your Godzilla movies?

Ooooooooooh, yeah! Now THAT is much easier to find.

But kinda similar.