My Dear Follower,
Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Today
happened to be one of those days.
Most days, I love my job as a librarian. I
get to read all day and only have to answer the occasional question. Other
days, like today, I feel as if I am nothing more than a glorified babysitter.
My charges range anywhere from typical toddlers to persons well over ninety.
Today’s
particular model was in the “well over ninety” category. He was standing
resolutely in front of our potty training display, convinced that it was the
men’s room and that he had every right to do his business right then and there.
“Listen
missy,” he began, “I been around the block a few times, and I think I oughta
know what a toilet looks like, and this right here is a toilet.”
“I
understand that, sir,” I returned, “But it’s a cardboard toilet, which means
it’s not a real toilet. It’s also in the middle of the children’s section. I’d
be happy to show you to the men’s room, if you would like to follow me.”
“Now listen
here, I can’t stand around here yappin’ all day to a woman who don’t know a
toilet when she sees one. I’m old y’know, I can’t hold it so long anymore.”
My eyes
widened in horror as he began to fumble with his zipper. The small audience of
children that had gathered at the commotion did not need to see this.
“Sir! Please!” I cried, grabbing
his arm. “You will follow me right now to the men’s room and I will find you an
even better toilet.”
He resisted me at first, but at the
promise of a better toilet he perked up. “A better one y’say? My bottom could
always use a better toilet. I’m not as young as I used to be y’know.”
“Yes, this toilet is very special,”
I said, marching him along and away from the children’s eyes. “We reserve it
for our favorite visitors.”
At this his oversized ears turned
pink. “Well, I don’t know about all that, but I sure could use a special
toilet.”
By this time we’d reached the men’s
room. With a perfunctory knock, I opened the door slightly and called inside.
“Is there anyone in here? I need to escort this gentleman inside.”
After an appropriate amount of time
with no response, I pushed the door open and dragged Mr. Toilet in after me. I
escorted him to the handicapped stall and was only able to extract myself after
a promise of waiting for him until he was done.
While he was doing his business, I
took a moment to glance at myself in the mirror. Bright blue eyes, with minimal
makeup stared back at me, before beginning the usual sweep of my reflection. My
blonde hair was frizzing out from the hurried ponytail I’d pulled it into this
morning. Gold rimmed reading glasses were perched on top of my head, where I’d
hurriedly pushed them at the beginning of this fiasco. I tugged at my black
v-neck tee shirt to right it after practically hauling Mr. Toilet to his destination.
The camouflage print cargo pants seemed to have survived the ordeal with
minimal disturbance. Some would say I have no sense of fashion. I prefer to
think of fashion as being in the eye of the beholder.
I heard the telltale flush and Mr.
Toilet appeared at the stall doorway. I grabbed his arm and lugged him towards
the sink.
“The name’s Ernie, by the way. And
you’re right, that toilet is special. It’s nice and big.”
“I’m Kate, and I’m glad you enjoyed
the facilities.”
After he finished up, I led him from
the restroom back towards where he had been standing. From out of nowhere, a
woman practically bowled me over in her haste to get to the man.
“Grandpa! I told you to stop
wandering off!” she scolded.
He just waved her comments away.
“You’re the one who wanders, Jenny.”
She shook her head at him before
turning to me, “Thank you so much for finding him!”
“It’s just part of the job I
suppose,” I responded. But her retreating back was already rushing after Ernie
again.
With a roll of my eyes, I returned
to my post at the assistance desk and returned to my reading. Many would say I
lead a boring life, and they might be right if I excluded certain disasters
such as Ernie. But I find a sort of contentment in routine.
Like I said, my dear Follower, sometimes it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. I would love to say that this was out of the ordinary, but it wasn't. I would love to say that my life is exciting, but it isn't. You see, dear Follower, this is the life of yours truly.
Welcome to The Life of Kate Conners. Pull up a chair, and get your popcorn. I have a feeling it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Yours Truly,
Kate Conners
