A Day in the Life of a Library Steward

I got up sickeningly early this morning. Had to catch a bus at 8am to ensure I was in by 9 to start work. Possibly the most depressing part of my day is donning the fated black t-shirt which screams, ‘Ask me any library related or unrelated question and I will chirrup the answer like a dejected robot.’

Wander up to the third floor. Yet another bloody fresher having problems with the mobile library shelving units. Do they arrive at this university naturally thick? It’s really not that complicated. You just have to pop in the right red light combination, press the arrows, and hey presto! They will move.

A word of warning – any student found to be exerting unnecessary pressure or force on library shelving units in order to move them will face disciplinary action.

Drift down to the second floor. Someone tries to leave the newspaper area, abandoning a banana skin and half a packet of Skips, but I’m too quick for them. Seizing the moment, I prepare to pounce. Our eyes meet. They amble slowly back to the desk, pick up their shit, and amble towards a bin. They proceed to place both items of litter in the clearly marked green recycling bin. I sigh. This is beyond my levels of communication. Perhaps they are an international student – and so cannot read the clear litter bin signage.

Need some peace and quiet so cross the hallowed bridge to the second floor extension. Two Maths students chatting away in the non-laptop silent study area. Kick them right out. Boom. Appreciate these rare moments of supreme power. They balance out the hours of crippling depression.

Two girls are whispering in between the bookshelves. “You can’t talk here,” I say, “it’s library policy.” “Why?” one of them asks. “Because it’s a quiet study area. You need to have respect for other workers around you.” “But we’re not working,” one of them hazards. ‘Do I look like I care?’, I expostulate.

After fifteen rounds of the fourth floor it’s time for the second most depressing part of this endless day. I have to man the desk on the first floor for an hour, standing in front of the luminous orange screen which dictates ‘Ask a library steward’ and answering ridiculous nonsensical questions from wealthy brats in Ugg boots and gilets.

The most frustrating part is when students have issues with the printers or photocopiers. One girl has got her hand stuck in a photocopier. I did not previously think this possible.

Another young lady is staring at each of the ‘lyflo_1’ printers in disbelief, just waiting for one sheet of paper to appear. “I just don’t understand this fucking place,” she says, “where is my work? I’ve pressed print five times!” I calmly ask if she knows her current printing credit balance. “What’s that?” she asks.

Finish work at about 6pm and head straight to café library for a massive coffee. The woman behind the counter refuses to serve me as it closes at 6pm. “But I’m a library steward!” I almost shout. “And?” she replies.

Sigh. Just another day at the library, I suppose.

I think I might commit.