When in the course of human events one has a lousy customer service experience, one must, of course, blog about it.
A little role reversal is a valuable thing. When doctors become patients, teachers become students, customer service representatives become disgruntled customers, and librarians become patrons, we suddenly see the world from the other side of the desk—and sometimes, we find, we don't like what we see.
This morning, I stepped into the role of patron at my hometown library. (I work in the next town over.) I've had a poor customer service experience there previously, in the circulation department, but I thought I'd give Reader's Assistance a try. I'd looked in the mystery section for Charlie Huston's vampire detective series, to no avail, so I went up to the desk.
Two librarians were sitting behind it talking. They looked up at me as I approached and continued to talk for several seconds. Finally, one of them said, "Yes?"
"Hi!" I said. "I'm wondering if you can tell me what the most recent book in Charlie Huston's vampire detective series is."
The librarian began clicking and tapping away at her computer. Finally, she said, "The Mystic Art of Erasing All Signs of Death."
I waited a moment. The title didn't sound right (the other books in this series have very catchy, hard-boiled names), but I thought I'd at least take a look. When the librarian said nothing more, I said, "Okay. Can you tell me if it's checked in?"
"That's what I'm checking. It should be over in the fiction section." She pointed a vague finger.
"Okay, great. I was looking in the mysteries before. That must have been my problem."
I went to the fiction section and found Charlie Huston's books. The Mystic Art of Erasing All Signs of Death, of course, is not a vampire detective book. But some earlier books in the series were there. I took one back to the reference desk with me.
The librarian did not look happy to see my return. I smiled. "I found the book you told me, but it wasn't in the right series. This is the series I'm interested in." I opened the book to the publications list. "The Joe Pitt Casefiles. I didn't remember the name."
The librarian somehow completely misunderstood me. "Well, it doesn't say it's new, but it might be in the new book section."
We walked over, and I said, "Is this the vampire book we're looking for?"
"We're looking for the one I told you about before."
"I found that book. It was by the same author, but it wasn't in the series I wanted."
"Well, then, I don't understand what you're asking me." By now the librarian had gone from seeming mildly put-out to downright hostile.
I patiently opened the book to the publications lists again. "This author writes several series. This is the one I'm interested in: the Joe Pitt Casefiles. This one was published in 2007. I want to know if there's a more recent one."
Resignedly, the librarian spent several more minutes at the computer without talking to me. Meanwhile, I began to feel sick with anger and anxiety. I wished I could grab her computer and look up the information myself, or at least say, "Are you searching all libraries? Have you considered googling the series to get a full listing?" But I hate outsiders telling me how to do my job, so I kept my mouth shut.
Finally she said, "I think this is the one: My Dead Body. 2009."
"Okay. Do you have it?"
"One library has it on order." She didn't offer to reserve it for me.
"Okay. Well, thanks a lot!" I said brightly.
"All right." I left the library and bought a burrito (clearly my only course of action at that point).
Storytime is over; let the rant begin. My problem with this whole "customer service transaction" is not that I walked away empty-handed. My problem is that everything about the librarian's speech and body language, from beginning to end, screamed, "Get out of my face, you stupid patron."
Let's take a look:
- "Yes?" is not a greeting or an offer of assistance. It's something you say when someone's interrupted you.
- She didn't smile. She barely made eye contact.
- She either didn't listen to my question or didn't compare what she saw on her screen with what I'd asked. (The book she directed me to had nothing to do with vampires.)
- She didn't listen to what I said when I returned to the desk.
- She got angry with me for, apparently, not communicating what I wanted.
- When someone says "thank you," the appropriate response is "you're welcome."
Oh, and another thing? There's a Joe Pitt novel that came out in 2008 and, while that library does not own it, other libraries in the consortium do. She easily could have ordered it for me... if she'd been remotely interested in actually answering my question.
The experience brought home for me how important friendly faces and can-do attitudes are at the library reference desk. I think my library (the one where I work) does very well, on the whole. At least we do in my department. When people approach the desk, we say, "Hi! May I help you!" We say, "You're welcome." We listen carefully to our patrons' questions. We do our best to answer them accurately, using not just the catalog as a resource but also our coworkers, the Internet, and other reference materials as necessary.
That's the way it should be. The fact that it's not that way everywhere makes me sick. These are the librarians who give us all a bad name. The ones who embody the stereotype of the antisocial shusher. The ones who make patrons of all ages afraid to approach the reference desk with their questions. The ones whose "best" is somehow worse than my "worst."
They're also the ones who remind me, when I return to my place behind the desk, how to do my job right. And for that, Ms. Crabbycakes Librarian, I thank you.