A nun, while waving a two-foot crucifix over me, called me an immodest and sinful dresser. A strange man of questionable intentions and even more questionable body odor proposed marriage to me. A ten-year-old berated me for refusing to page his brother over the PA system and ask where his Playstation memory card was. A father insisted I harshly scold his five-year-old son for breaking the binding on a book to “teach him a lesson.”

And yet, people constantly remark how easy it must be to work at the library. They envision the circulation desk staff sitting at expansive desks, flipping through literary journals or thick leather-bound novels and pausing only to exchange intelligent conversation with academics who have decided to check out something along the lines of “War and Peace.”

Not so much.

Maybe I do occasionally get the intelligent conversation. Much, much more often, though, I get complaints: about the limit on how many movies can be checked out, about late fees, about books that were most definitely, 100-percent-positive turned in at least a week ago, but are actually under the bed or car seat. There are others, who admittedly are just trying to make polite conversation, who say “witty” things like, “You should get paid by the book!” or “Wow, you’re fast. You must have had some practice.” Yes, it’s clever. And yes, I have heard it thousands of times before.

Instead of calmly relaxing with a book, I am most likely scurrying around from one task to the next. I field phone calls regarding renewals or fine problems, frantically check in materials, get the books on carts ready to be shelved. I have to be polite as people verbally berate me, and then run to stack check-ins as soon as they leave. It’s physically and mentally exhausting. I realize that when you just read that it was “physically exhausting,” you scoffed aloud. It’s okay, I understand. I wouldn’t believe it either. But try lifting giant stacks of books, endless stacks of heavy books, for hours at a time. It might not make me Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I do have a mildly developed bicep. Also add to that the fact that a majority of the desk staff is KU students. Not only are we all having to focus on patrons’ problems, but we are also worrying about the homework that’s currently not getting done or exams that are coming up.

Working at the library does have its fun moments, and I do love my job. But it falls into the category of those jobs that are demanding or tedious, yet look like fun from the outside. For example, I have a friend who works at a retail store. It seems the employee discount would be enough to make it a dream job to her and me, at first. Of course, actually working there is, as she puts it, “mind-numbing.” Just folding t-shirts for hours on end “like a mindless robot.” People fixate on the benefits of jobs like that, and don’t think about how much you have to schlep around to earn them. It only makes it worse when you’re in the middle of your worst day, doing three things at once and contemplating quitting on the spot, and at that exact moment in time someone remarks how stress-free your job must be. Those comments take my bad day to a whole other level. It’s then that fantasies of anvils falling from the sky, Wile E. Coyote-style, start to dance through my head.

We librarians—or rather merely library employees and/or peons—like it when you’re chatty. We like those who read and watch foreign films and yet occasionally enjoy a J Lo. movie without being embarrassed about it. We like when you have your books stacked with the barcodes facing up and your library card in hand. Oh, and a smile is always appreciated.

Gentry is a Kansas City sophomore in English and pre-medicine.