Thursday, June 17, 2010

This is what I do at work

At the good ol' Harold B. Lee library, we have a chat system set up on the library website so that patrons can ask research questions from the comfort of their own computers. Usually, when a patron starts a chat, his/her question is directed to a general research assistant who then sends a ping to the relevant department and transfers the chat to someone with specialized knowledge.

The following is a verbatim chat conversation I just had with a patron:

(5:11:04 PM) Hey is there really a ghost in the Music Section?

(5:11:58 PM) Depending on whom you ask, there is either one or two.

(5:12:10 PM) Really? Can you hear weird noises?

(5:13:30 PM) I personally haven't experienced the "ghost", but...

(5:14:06 PM) one of the people who currently works here said that she was closing up one night by herself, and someone grabbed her wrist while she was in the Primrose archives

(5:14:14 PM) which is where the ghost supposedly resides

(5:14:32 PM) there is a chair that keeps reappearing even though we try to get rid of it

(5:14:44 PM) we physically take it out to the dumpster and throw it away, but the next day, it's back again

(5:14:51 PM) Holy crap! That's scary!! What time of night or day do things usually happen?

(5:15:25 PM) Usually at closing time.

(5:15:45 PM) Interesting. When is closing time?

(5:16:03 PM) 9pm during the summer, 10pm during fall/winter

(5:16:29 PM) Ok thanks

(5:16:38 PM) You're welcome.

Anyone want to take bets on what some random freshmen might be doing for their FHE activity next week?

Monday, June 7, 2010

Good-bye, Mr. Falcone (Fal-ko-nee)

My piano is gone.

And, I think


a little piece of me went with it.

Even though said piano sounded only slightly better than a harpsichord built of plywood.

Even though playing it with a "fine musician's touch" was next to impossible.

Even though it was a Falcone. ("What's a Falcone?" you ask. "Precisely." I answer.)

To its credit, it did look pretty. And it served me with all its might and muster for the first two years of its life (even if said might and muster amounted to that of a slightly squashed, overripe banana).

Yes, somehow, somehow, it successfully leeched onto my sentiments. And I therefore almost, almost, felt like I was betraying it when the movers took it out of my apartment today.



In conclusion:

Good-bye, Mr. Falcone.

Hello, saving moolah.

[at least until September, at which time the HFAC shall once again become populated and I shall no longer (il)legally teach my students there]