Yesterday was my last shift at the university library. I think I loved that job more than I ever loved a job before (not like competition was stiff though). Fortunately, I also had an interview yesterday for the same job in the Fall. So fingers crossed and prayers, I'll get to relive all my desk memories in real-time next academic year too. I certainly will miss the library staff over the summer, but I'm sure September will arrive quicker than I need it to.
Another lovely bittersweet story came over the desk during my shift on Friday. A couple with two kids came up to us with a sweet story. The woman had with her one of the university's books, which had been written by her grandfather. The family didn't have a copy and they wanted to buy it from the library. The real kicker was that the book had only been signed out twice - once by her aunt (the author's daughter) in '76 and once by her (the authors grand daughter) in '93. And that's it. The book has just sat on our shelves collecting dust since then.
My colleague took the story to the collections librarian. Here comes the bitter part, which is completely understandable from a professional point of view. No, the library does not sell books (we are not a bookstore). No, the woman cannot have the book (we are not a charitable organization). We collect rare books in an attempt to archive civilization (etc).
So the family left empty handed. They'd gone about the whole thing too honestly. The woman should've taken the book out, 'lost it', and paid the $150 lost book fee.
Sometimes it's a bittersweet, twisted library world I live in...