A Scratchy Voice

When the call came in, I had three people in front of me. One wanted a computer. One needed the printer to stop being an asshole. The third danced and said the bathroom was full.

     I told the man to wait for his turn on the computer. Of course as I started speaking, someone got up. About goddamn time, his words.

     The man with the printer problem left. I do not know what happened there.

     For the dancing patron, I peaked my head in the back room and asked Freddy if he could handle the desk. Desk duty is not in his job description, but that is how we learn. He was on the phone. When he saw me, he stood up. Told me the call was for me. They would not leave a message. They needed me.

     I sent Freddy out and picked up the phone. A scratchy voice on the other end asked if this was a bad time. I said it was. Could I call them back? They said no. They said this was a one time thing. Twenty-five thousand dollars if I would take a family heirloom. 

     I guess I laughed. Of course I did. People think the library takes old stuff all the time, but they never offered to pay. Instead, I told the person on the other end I would have to meet in the flesh. They said they would be in tomorrow.

     Back out on the desk, I found freddy with a mop in hand. He shrugged. I started for the bathroom, but he told me not to worry. The dancer did not make it.