What's your name again, I cunt remember...?

As I've mentioned, Circleville has a library, and it's actually a very nice library that'd rival any in a larger town such as Columbus. It has a very large collection of books and I rarely have to order from another library to get what I want. There's a tremendous collection of CDs, and the DVD section is MUCH larger than some of the Columbus branch locations. The layout is such that if you wanted to sit and read, it's far enough from the computers that you won't hear the clickety-clack of the keyboards, and the chairs are comfy and clean, considering I've seen some folks sleeping in them that seem to have misplaced clean clothes and forgotten how to use soap in the shower. The children's room is huge, and they have movie showings for families when a new family-friendly movie is released on DVD. The decor is very subtle, and includes many "artifacts" from Circleville's past. It's usually a pleasant experience and I usually have the books mostly to myself (yeah, I'm not going there again...). Most of the librarians are very cordial, and will discuss books they've read with me, if I'm looking for something different. I say "most" because there was this one librarian... I won't call her by name (which isn't the same as calling her names... I will be doing that). Let's call her Middle-Aged-Bitch-Who-Shouldn't-Be-In-A-Customer-Service-Job-Because-She's-too-Rude-And-Insensitive-To-Deal-With-People. You're right, way too long. Let's call her Ms Red.

The first time I saw Ms Red in action, I'd already checked-out and was browsing the library discards. There's a large jar on the counter for donations when you choose to take one home, and it's always been (and even says so on the jar) a "Donate What You Can" system. Or so I thought. A young mother and her son were checking out, and the kid comes over to the discards, looks for a few seconds, and finds a book. He runs to his mother and says "Mommy, I want this one!" to which Mommy replies "Ok, hon" or something to that effect. She pulls a crinkled dollar from her purse.
Ms Red... wow, ya know, when I think of this story, I just can't be that kind... The Bitch says "The hardbacks are $2.00." Now, this is a CHILDREN's book! Two bucks?!
Mommy looks up at The Bitch, then down at her son and says "Mommy doesn't have it right now, honey, you'll have to put the book back."
The boy looks at The Bitch and says "PLEEEEASE?" He's now starting to cry. I watch this with something approaching sadness.
The Bitch... nope, STILL to good for her... Fucking Bitch says "I'm sorry, it's $2.00."
It's no longer sadness but anger I feel. As Mommy and the kid (possibly Circleville's last hope... a child that WANTS to read) start out the door, I say "Let me go to my car, I have a few bucks in the console."
"No, I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You didn't ask," I say, smiling.
"We really have to go, but thank you." And they're gone. Fucking Bitch has been watching this, and when I turn around, she quickly turns back to her work. I can't believe I've just witnessed this!
I walk out to the car, grab the two bucks I knew was in the console and some change, and walked back inside. I dumped the bills and then the change into the jar and said "That's for the next kid that comes along and needs a book to make his day!" I walk out without waiting for a response.

The following Saturday I returned to pick up a book I'd reserved Friday for the long weekend. The book was one the Circleville library owns, it was in the system when I reserved it as "in stock," so I didn't forsee any problems, even when I saw Fucking Bitch behind the counter. I was so fucking wrong...
I didn't bother to browse like I normally did, I just wanted to get my book and go home, sit on the porch with a beer and read. I handed her my library card and very politely said "I should have a book on hold."
She scanned the card and said "It's not been logged in yet."
I stared at her... I didn't know what to say. "Uhh, I reserved it yesterday... is it here? Did someone else check it out?"
"It's here, sir... it hasn't been logged in yet."
"What's that mean?"
"It means it's in the back room, waiting to be logged in."
Now, if I understood what was happening, and I think I did, this was going to get me nowhere. I said "I'll stop by tomorrow," and I walked out.
Sunday, Fucking Bitch was once again behind the counter. As soon as I arrived at the desk she said "It probably won't be logged in until Monday, when the guy who does it's here." I'm shocked. Literally mouth-hanging-open SHOCKED! One, she couldn't tell me this yesterday?! And two, IT'S RIGHT BEHIND THE COUNTER WAITING TO BE LOGGED IN! I don't get angry, though... I get full-on pissed off!
"Look, take the thing off reserve for me, I don't want it anymore. Then, when it goes back on the shelf, I'll retrieve it myself. I'm going to browse for a while." And I did. For an hour and a half. I even managed to find a few more books I wanted. But the one I'd reserved still wasn't on the shelf.
Upon returning to the check-out counter, I asked the girl (no Fucking Bitch to be found) "I took a book off reserve earlier and was wondering if it was still on the shelving cart?" She looked around for the book... in the back room, on the reserve shelf, under the counter, and then actually went to the shelf where it should have been and couldn't find it.
She returned to the desk and looked the book up. "It's been checked-out." No... fucking... way. I looked at that spot on the shelf every few minutes for an hour and a half, and it was never put back. Fucking Bitch did it, I knew she did, though I couldn't prove it. On Monday morning, I went back to the library and filed a complaint with the very nice librarian I chat books with, and she said I wasn't the first to complain. Big fucking surprise, there.

I haven't seen Fucking Bitch in a month. I hope she got fired, I really do. Give the job to someone who understands what a librarian's there for, and what it means to be a good customer service representative. I don't know who'd hire a fucking bitch like Fucking Bitch...

But I'm scared to death of going to the BMV.