Will you be my friend?

This semester I am taking a class on "information ethics" as part of my library degree. In case I wasn't already extremely primed to think about ethics, this class has made it so I am considering ethical tensions constantly. I am planning to post about a few of my biggest conflicts so I can get advice from the intelligent, talented, and beautiful readers of this blog.

Don't worry, though: Patron eccentricities will continue to be topic number one.

Issue #1: Being 'friends' with patrons

If you are a longtime reader of this blog you will know that every library staff person has her fans, some of which we are happier about than others (My Only Sane Fan, clearly identifiable by her intense smoker's voice, deserves mention here). Usually the concern is keeping the patrons from thinking you are their best friend and as a result they expect to be exempt from rules or get an infinite amount of help when other people are waiting--give Mr. Take My Card an umbrella and he takes a mile, write back to one email from 'Audrey  Hepburn' and now you are her personal consultant, etc.

Making exceptions for known patrons, while tempting, is pretty clearly an ethical infraction, and not too hard to avoid. Even though I know the Retired Police Officer, I make him give me his ID for ransom when he wants to borrow the Consumer Reports just like anyone else. I give every unfamiliar person one chance to bring back the 20 cents I loan them, just like I trust that (most) known patrons are good for the money. Little things like this are pretty simple, but there is a larger question of whether I should treat my relationships with frequent library visitors as relationships or as a series of discrete interactions (SDI from here forward). Considerations:

Library policy, the American Library Association ethical code, etc. says that a cardinal feature of a reference interaction is confidentiality--the librarian won't tell anyone what information you wanted and won't be nosy about why you want it. In fact, the real message is you should not just pretend not to care about what the patron is searching for, you should work to actually not care about it as far as you can. Basically, if the patron starts seeing you as a person, they will be embarrassed to ask the things that they need to know but wouldn't want anyone, especially a stranger, to know they need to know. The promotion of confidentiality argues that treating your job as a series of SDIs is a better approach than treating it as a collection of relationships. A patron who knows your name and how many pets you have, and who knows that you know her name and how many pets she has, is probably going to be embarrassed to ask for help finding books on house foreclosure. By being friendly with this patron, you've lost your 'exempt' status and thus you are less helpful to her.

On the other hand, you can only pretend so effectively that you don't remember a patron, especially if you don't want to seem hostile or rude. After seeing someone 15 times in a month, it's hard to act as though you have never seen him before. Besides, even if you succeed, he is likely to feel like you are being rude or strange--to think things like "How come this woman has no idea who I am? I talked to her for 10 minutes yesterday and it's as though she doesn't recognize me" or "Is she pretending not to know me because I did something to offend her?" Especially because regular commercial establishments consider it good customer service to recognize repeat customers and greet them as such, it seems especially odd when the librarian who helped you find books on dog training two days ago (you told her all about your new puppy!) acts as though you are a totally stranger.

It's a complicated issue since some patrons want you to have a sort of friendship with them, and others would prefer to be completely anonymous. As far as I can think of, there's no way to tell which is which. Am I missing something? And if not, what is the best balance between the relationship approach and  the SDI approach?

Annoying Regular Day

Today is apparently Annoying Regular Day at the library. We have Retired Librarian, Inarticulate Catalog Guy, Mr. Take-My-Card, Running Kid, Hooligan Kids, the whole lot. On the bright side, we also have an old man who I have never seen before who could become a great regular. He hasn't asked for any help but I observed him on the computer on a massively ancient news site, reading story after story about whales. He's been there for at least an hour.

 In related news, the White Whale exists.

Edit 2/14: Per excellent reader suggestion, we are naming the whale guy Captain Ahab.

All I want for Christmas

For the boys who play their online shooter games with the volume turned up waaaay too high: A pair of giant, ear-covering headphones each. 

For Mr. Take My Card, who we always have to wake up at closing time: A tent and a battery-powered space heater, so he doesn't have to relocate further away than the front lawn at night.

For Fedex guy, who we think is running a business out of the library and is always asking for shipping supplies: A stack of flat rate USPS boxes.

For the families who wander to different parts of the library and then shout across the building at each other: walkie-talkies. No, even better, tin cans attached to each other with string! That would give them a maximum radius.

For the Teen Librarian's Number One Fan: A framed photo of her and said librarian, for her to cherish forever.

For each high school kid who wants an immensely well-known book right now, because she is supposed to have read it by tomorrow, and she can't believe she'll have to wait two days for it to come over from another branch: A ten dollar gift certificate to Half Price Books, printed with a detailed map on it.

For whoever is stealing all the best DVDs as soon as they come in: A Netflix subscription.

For Construction Vest Man: His own bottle of whiteout. (Still haven't figured out what exactly he is using it for, but he asks for it every day.)

For the guy who is always thrilled when we copy and paste for him: Anything he wants, because he is great!

And, for Do You Have... Boy, a free pass to somewhere where he can look at or borrow as many books as he wants, even if he is never even going to read them. Oh wait, that place is called the library.

In which I recieve a business card

This story is from last week (i.e., pre-blog days):

There is a homeless (we think) man who comes into the library often. He is always very well-groomed and is always checking out and/or reading books about computer systems administration. However, his most notable habit is that he loses things every time he comes into the library and then he comes to the reference desk to ask if anyone has found them. Every time we tell him to ask at customer service, because that is where the lost and found is. Every day he goes and does that, and then comes back to us again the next time he loses something.

Last week he lost a personal book and came to the desk to ask me if it had been turned it. It hadn’t, but I found one later that evening. Next time I saw the guy I told him that I might have found his book, and that he should check at the customer service desk. It was indeed his, and he was so thrilled that he came back to thank me about three times. After the third time he said, “What is your name again? Here, take my card!” Then he handed me an extremely professional-looking business card which listed him as an Oracle administrator. Huh.