Now Accepting Applications

How do you build a library? For some, the building of a library happens by accident one book at a time. For a town it comes from need. Space, knowledge, entertainment, a library solves these community issues. Of course, there is always one bastard that knows how to build a library better than others.

     "You need a children's librarian," the board member said.

     I said, "We are looking into hiring one."

     "Look harder. Kids need story time."

     I wanted to tell the man that story time had not left us. The circulation librarian had been doing as well as she could every Tuesday and Thursday and sometimes just when she wanted to. She would just sit down and start reading.

      The board member said, "I've heard complaints from others about how things are going."

      "What kind of complaints?" People always complained to the people with the will but without the power. 

     "Was there a story time about dressing up in costumes?" 

     "It was very popular," I said not knowing what he was talking about.

     "A real children's librarian would not have let that happen. Maybe a real director wouldn't either," he said and left, knowing a dramatic exit line when he said it.

     I made my way to where the Circ was slowly tearing pages from a book. Each page made a slow rasping that sent shivers up my spine. One page and another, a gentle destruction. Circ held a page in two fingers after relieving the book and blew on it. The paper danced.

     "What are you doing?" I asked.

     Circ dropped the page into the trash and said, "Weeding."

     "Huh. Did you do a story time about costumes?"

     "Yep. Day before last Tuesday sometime. We read 'The Emperor Is a Naked Bastard,' and I sang a song for the flesh. Then three members of the Endless Parade held the stage."

     "The burlesque troupe?"

     "Oh, ST, they were lovely."

     "Okay. Right. Have you heard from anyone for the children's librarian yet?"

     Circ said, "I emailed you two that came in online. Then one came in off the street and filled out a paper application. I left that on your desk. Another called, but he said we were too close to a school."

     "Will you be free next week to do interviews?"

     She looked me in the eye. "I am always free."

     Back in my office, I looked over the paper application. Our employment applications are standard four pages. First two pages are generic city forms with basic information: name, address, blood type, education, employment, and allergies. The other two pages go into your acceptance of  library work. Do you have customer service experience? Can you lift up to thirty pounds? Of what? What do you like best about lifting thirty pounds? Have you ever lifted up to thirty pounds while helping someone with a resume? Typing speed. What made this application different was the six single spaced handwritten pages that followed.

     I did not read it all. It began with the person's birth and continued. They spoke of love, laughter, and living. Then on page three the deaths began. I skipped to the end.

     A strange red stain blossomed on the sixth page. Before my eyes it spread until it covered all eight and one-half by eleven inches of the pulp. I dropped it to my desk where the wood began to absorb the liquid oozing ever outward.

     I grabbed the first page and reached for the phone. We had interviews to conduct.