Dreyfus Goes to the Library
City Libraries can be hauntingly beautiful with a palpable air of stoicism; yet slippery and altogether unforgiving mistresses – especially during the bleaker months. The principal appeal of working in one, Dreyfus thought to himself, would be the benefit of any prospective boss being constrained by his/her surroundings and unable to chastise him as vocally as they might like; something to which Dreyfus had grown accustomed throughout his not so glittering career working at call-centers and ostrich-burger vans; those ostriches could be so hard-nosed at times.
Running a hand through his waxen brown hair before accidentally tucking his shirt into his pants, Dreyfus looked into the mirror and liked what he saw. He grinned, terrifyingly, and adjusted his brown clip-on tie; the appropriate accoutrement to the unconvincing veneer of ‘prospective employee’, a look which could be tweaked to suit weddings/funerals, 1920-60 fancy-dress costume and ‘appropriately smart attire’ for any imminent court appearances – it was surprising how often they seemed to pop-up Dreyfus thought to himself, his quizzical expression reflecting back at him. To a distant observer unfamiliar with the concept of reflective surfaces, it would appear as if two uncannily similar individuals were staring gormlessly at each other in an absurdist stand-off – imagine that if you will.
Whilst this story may be concerned with such trite observation, the author would like to apologize for a most unwelcome and distracting tangent on its behalf and, furthermore, wishes to reassure the reader that a minimum of 71 words will be deducted from the end as reparation.
Having scaled the large staircase up to the pillared library entrance, our hero takes a deep breath to compose himself before pushing a thick brass bar to enter the building. It refuses to open and the force causes him to jolt forward sharply, smacking his forehead directly on the ‘pull’ sticker affixed to the glass pane in front of him. ‘A minor setback’, he reasons, (and a throwaway joke in the buildup to, ‘The Plan’, which immediately follows the next full stop, I think to myself).
The Plan:
Dreyfus checked his clip-on tie was still clipped-on and tried to block out the pain radiating from his head and the almost comfortingly familiar nausea that accompanied it, before squeaking his way across the marble hall; oblivious to the silent disgust of a small collective of bespectacled types.
“Hello, how can I help you?” The ludicrously young-looking librarian asked. “Hi there, I was checking the library’s website the other day and saw you had a trainee job advertised?” Dreyfus inquired, at a suitably library-friendly volume and with only minimal spit fall-out. The librarian wiped his face before answering in a friendly and confident manner: “I’m sorry but that job had been up quite some time and the position has been filled”.
Dreyfus already thought this might have been the case, but didn’t let on. Leaning forward to catch a subtle glimpse of the man’s name-tag which read:
‘Joe Marsden – Trainee librarian’, he asked: “Sorry could you repeat that I’m a bit hard of hearing”, gesturing to his right ear as he spoke.
“Of course sir, I said I’m afraid the position has been taken and there are no other jobs at the moment”. He spoke loudly and clearly, catching the attention of the bespectacled collective and a tall gaunt man with steel-framed glasses who was clearly a seasoned librarian from the way he had perfected gliding instead of walking; weaving between rows of books in stealth-mode, only assuming a visible form when dealing with unacceptable noise levels or confiscating food and drink.
Dreyfus winced and said, “Sorry I’m afraid I didn’t catch that”. Brushing back his tussled hair behind his right ear to reveal an old-fashioned clunky hearing aid, he continued: “It’s this awful thing, sorry, I’m only just getting used to it”.
“No problem at all sir, but I can’t speak too loud in here, I’ll get in trouble!” Young Joe was obviously fairly new and trying to avoid alerting his senior.
“What?” Dreyfus asked.
“I said, I CAN’T SPEAK TOO LOUD, this is a library sir!” He was quickly becoming frustrated and was inexperienced; Dreyfus was no super sleuth but the clue was in the job title. He thought he felt a breeze as the tall gaunt man silently glided over to reception – now ‘The Plan’ was entering its critical phase.
“What’s all the commotion about Joe? People are trying to work, have a bit of consideration please,” the man had a calm voice but it was tinged with sinister undertones; like a serial killer reading a bedtime story.
“I’m sorry sir”, Joe replied meekly, the confidence draining from his voice. “This should be becoming second-nature to you Joe, people come here for peace and quiet and we need to maintain an appropriate working environment”, he continued. He turned his attention to Dreyfus and asked, “I’m sorry sir, is there anything I can help you with?”
Dreyfus began: “Actually there is. I came here to apply for a job and young Joe here started acting strange and said that you don’t like to employ people like me,” flicking his hair back once more to reveal the supersized hearing aid.
“I beg you’re pardon, is this true Joe?” The senior asked, flabbergasted. Joe looked flustered with rage then snapped, “That is an absolute lie, he asked about a job and I told him that the position had been filled”
“Shhhhh”, the senior cut him off, shaking his head, “Keep the volume down Joe, this is a library, have some decorum for God’s sake.” Dreyfus decided it was time to press his advantage home, young Joe was caving like a weak dealer in a Vegas casino and Dreyfus was playing for a prize greater than money – well actually no, equal to money.
“So now you’re calling me a liar are you?” He said. “And more to the point”, he pointed at the trainee and continued, “He told me that if I couldn’t speak quietly, then I shouldn’t even be in a library…”
Joe was purple with rage and was now almost shouting: “I’m sorry but that is a barefaced lie and I would never deliberately insult people like you..”
The bespectacled collective had been getting progressively more agitated as the argument intensified and it was all too much for a couple of the more sickly members who promptly fainted and had to be revived shortly after this story ended.
“People like me? I’ve never been so insulted in all my life” Dreyfus fumed, as he simultaneously managed to force a tear.
“I’m so sorry sir”, the senior started again. “Joe, I think you better go and wait in the office, we need to have a serious talk about this”. Young Joe stormed off, knocking a stack of papers off his desk as he left.
“All I wanted was a chance to prove myself,” Dreyfus explained. “I’m not after sympathy but it can just be so difficult for people with disabilities sometimes, you understand?”
“Oh, I do think you’re very brave and unreservedly apologize for any offense caused, I don’t know what got into him, he is very new”. He paused for a moment and looked down at the papers strewn across the floor. “I tell you what actually, what’s your name?”
“It’s Dreyfus”, he sniveled, blowing his nose, quietly.
The senior stepped forward and placed his hand on Dreyfus’ shoulder as he spoke:
“Well Dreyfus, if you leave your curriculum vitae with us, I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, but I’ve got a feeling that young Joe might not be around here for too much longer, I can’t abide that sort of behavior, not in my library.”
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