A user, a mouse, a click.
I can't help myself from posting this. This story has become an epic tale in my couple years as working the ref desk. It's long, so there's more after the cut.
*set scene*
two years ago, early in the year, normal day in terms of workflow, ie. we're all constantly in motion. Being understaffed, I'm currently the only person there "allowed" to work the ref desk. A feeling of dread sets in, and I know the worst phrase I will ever have to hear will be once again uttered:
"Hi, I need to use the computer, but I have never used one before" slight chuckle, and the kicker to the phrase
"I'm computer illiterate" like it's a good, fresh pun. Maybe dropping that bit of technobabble cancels out what you know is coming up.
"Would you help me?" drag up your nicest smile, get your most helpful attitude in place.
"Of course, what exactly can I help you out with?" hope against all sanity you have that it will be something simple, something like...
"I was drinking my Dr. Pepper, and I seen *you wince* this code under the cap. The bottle says I could win ." ...no, not something like that. Suns collapse into black holes gentler than your jaw crashes against the floor. Looking aroudn you notice an eerie dead calm befell the library, you have no escape from the help you've commited yourself to.
"...I see, ok, let's go ahead and get you started then. I'll give you a quick course in using a computer, so you can see if you're a winner." His chances are better being struck by lightning... twice. Check the windows, look for a brewing storm. Seated, briefed, Dr. Pepper website open, hand on the mouse...
"How much did I win?" Jumping the gun a little aren't we?
"Type in the code from your bottle cap, and then use the left button to click on -Submit-. That should take you to your winnings." Now that was simple, right?
-Please enter your email address-
Damnit, you were so close, why didn't you turn and run?
"What an memail *not a typo* address? My home address? I can't remember it. I could use your phone and get that informaion..."
"No sir, EMAIL is a way of electronically sending a message to someone. The EMAIL address is the electronic version of a return address on an envelope. People can send things to you using that address." Why did I reference the return address on a piece of postage, he's going to...
"I should type in my return address here?" *clack-a clack-a click* He types in the first two digits of his address he miraculously remembers.
"Sorry sir, I may have not explaned it properly. You need to set up an email account to have an email address." Let's speed this up a little. Five minutes pass where you explain about different email providers, and finally choose one, the easiest to set up. Website open, process explained, just fill in the blanks.
*tak* pause *tak* pause *tak* "I'll be right over here if you need some help. Let me know when you're ready to finish finding out your what you won." *decompress, breathe* 20 minutes pass, you notice, while helping another patron, he's just sitting there, staring at the screen. Finish up with patron, go see if he needs help. He does, of course. The form is rejected, and you have to explain just how many people sign up for email, so yes his generic first name is already in use as someone's user name. He is incredulous. You make the journey from your desk to his station 7 times before he understands he needs to be a little more creative, or just use the suggested user names. At this point you just offer to retype that into Dr. Pepper's website for him. 20 seconds and you're in.
"I didn't win? I was sure this was the winner." You hope he never checks his email again, or he might make some 'nigerian prince' a happy happy man. Wait, look at the screen, it doesn't say he didn't win, it says the bottle cap had already been entered, and was no longer valid? "Oh I found this in the trash outside." Where is the hand sanitizer? Sanitizer has a variation of the word 'sanity' in it, if only it worked that way. In any case, you're done, he has his email address *written by you* and his password *also written by you when he shouted it out* in his pocket, should he ever need it again.
That's it, you're done. A month passes, he's back. Mountain Dew this time. Man loves his soda. You get him to the website, tell him to try it out, and call you if he needs your help. You don't make it a step. He can't remember his email address. Set him up with second email. Same process as before. Another month, another bottle cap. Repeat, repeat. Summer reading club begins, and he disappears. Day of the summer reading end party. You're in early, working hard for the reading participants, working through your lunch, you're that busy. Half hour left to the day and you and the others who did the party are just sitting down after cleaning up. Your first cold drink of the day. One sip *BANG BANG BANG * "Hey Rick?" Not your name, but you look anyway. Shit. Him. You got no break that day.
Once every month, sometimes with a month in between, you repeat the same process. You're not frustrated anymore, it becomes routine, fast. You begin to feel a little bad for email provider, you're indirectly responsible for setting up upwards of 20 email accounts you know will not be used ever again.
Mom stoped by earlier this month to pass along some good family news, in walks a bottle cap, man attached. Mom looks bewildered. You help and come back to see if she's ok. "Isn't that ? Your aunt used to date him, we thought, for a while, they would get married."
You were almost related to dumpster-diving-bottle-cap-collecting man! *Heart attack*
*set scene*
two years ago, early in the year, normal day in terms of workflow, ie. we're all constantly in motion. Being understaffed, I'm currently the only person there "allowed" to work the ref desk. A feeling of dread sets in, and I know the worst phrase I will ever have to hear will be once again uttered:
"Hi, I need to use the computer, but I have never used one before" slight chuckle, and the kicker to the phrase
"I'm computer illiterate" like it's a good, fresh pun. Maybe dropping that bit of technobabble cancels out what you know is coming up.
"Would you help me?" drag up your nicest smile, get your most helpful attitude in place.
"Of course, what exactly can I help you out with?" hope against all sanity you have that it will be something simple, something like...
"I was drinking my Dr. Pepper, and I seen *you wince* this code under the cap. The bottle says I could win ." ...no, not something like that. Suns collapse into black holes gentler than your jaw crashes against the floor. Looking aroudn you notice an eerie dead calm befell the library, you have no escape from the help you've commited yourself to.
"...I see, ok, let's go ahead and get you started then. I'll give you a quick course in using a computer, so you can see if you're a winner." His chances are better being struck by lightning... twice. Check the windows, look for a brewing storm. Seated, briefed, Dr. Pepper website open, hand on the mouse...
"How much did I win?" Jumping the gun a little aren't we?
"Type in the code from your bottle cap, and then use the left button to click on -Submit-. That should take you to your winnings." Now that was simple, right?
-Please enter your email address-
Damnit, you were so close, why didn't you turn and run?
"What an memail *not a typo* address? My home address? I can't remember it. I could use your phone and get that informaion..."
"No sir, EMAIL is a way of electronically sending a message to someone. The EMAIL address is the electronic version of a return address on an envelope. People can send things to you using that address." Why did I reference the return address on a piece of postage, he's going to...
"I should type in my return address here?" *clack-a clack-a click* He types in the first two digits of his address he miraculously remembers.
"Sorry sir, I may have not explaned it properly. You need to set up an email account to have an email address." Let's speed this up a little. Five minutes pass where you explain about different email providers, and finally choose one, the easiest to set up. Website open, process explained, just fill in the blanks.
*tak* pause *tak* pause *tak* "I'll be right over here if you need some help. Let me know when you're ready to finish finding out your what you won." *decompress, breathe* 20 minutes pass, you notice, while helping another patron, he's just sitting there, staring at the screen. Finish up with patron, go see if he needs help. He does, of course. The form is rejected, and you have to explain just how many people sign up for email, so yes his generic first name is already in use as someone's user name. He is incredulous. You make the journey from your desk to his station 7 times before he understands he needs to be a little more creative, or just use the suggested user names. At this point you just offer to retype that into Dr. Pepper's website for him. 20 seconds and you're in.
"I didn't win? I was sure this was the winner." You hope he never checks his email again, or he might make some 'nigerian prince' a happy happy man. Wait, look at the screen, it doesn't say he didn't win, it says the bottle cap had already been entered, and was no longer valid? "Oh I found this in the trash outside." Where is the hand sanitizer? Sanitizer has a variation of the word 'sanity' in it, if only it worked that way. In any case, you're done, he has his email address *written by you* and his password *also written by you when he shouted it out* in his pocket, should he ever need it again.
That's it, you're done. A month passes, he's back. Mountain Dew this time. Man loves his soda. You get him to the website, tell him to try it out, and call you if he needs your help. You don't make it a step. He can't remember his email address. Set him up with second email. Same process as before. Another month, another bottle cap. Repeat, repeat. Summer reading club begins, and he disappears. Day of the summer reading end party. You're in early, working hard for the reading participants, working through your lunch, you're that busy. Half hour left to the day and you and the others who did the party are just sitting down after cleaning up. Your first cold drink of the day. One sip *BANG BANG BANG * "Hey Rick?" Not your name, but you look anyway. Shit. Him. You got no break that day.
Once every month, sometimes with a month in between, you repeat the same process. You're not frustrated anymore, it becomes routine, fast. You begin to feel a little bad for email provider, you're indirectly responsible for setting up upwards of 20 email accounts you know will not be used ever again.
Mom stoped by earlier this month to pass along some good family news, in walks a bottle cap, man attached. Mom looks bewildered. You help and come back to see if she's ok. "Isn't that ? Your aunt used to date him, we thought, for a while, they would get married."
You were almost related to dumpster-diving-bottle-cap-collecting man! *Heart attack*