Ack! I started a post and I guess I didn't save it -- altho I think the site sometimes automatically saves my in progress oop I have to move to another computer but this time it didn't autosave -- so I'm starting from scratch but that freaks me out because I know it wasn't actually that wow but now I feel like this version has to be fucking spectacular, like Pulitzer-winning slice of life with humor and pathos and the whole gamut of human emotions AND I JUST CANNOT TAKE THAT MUCH STRESS TODAY.
So I'm maybe a little tense today. Or stressed. Or sensitive. Or fragile. Any of those condescending terms others will use to sound like they care but only in the smuggest way possible because of course they have their shit together and don't fly off the handle for silly little reasons because of course you do you poor poor thing.
Actually what I am is spent. And some of you will totally understand when I explain and others won't get it. But that's how it goes. If you read this and think, huh?, that's fine. Just please don't pat my hand and talk softly at me and pretend to care. I am not on a ledge and if I were you would not be the one to talk me down.
I am an introvert. I know, shocking right coming from someone who prefers to communicate via keyboard. To clarify: I am not shy. Ok, I am shy, but that's not what I mean by introvert. I mean people freakin' exhaust me.
There is a very nice man, like super nice, 100% inoffensive guy who comes to the library and sits at a table by the window and uses his laptop. He sometimes e-mails the Circ desk something he needs printed (which we have found really is the quickest, most efficient way for a patron to print from their own computer or phone even tho we have a whole tech process they can supposedly use to basically e-mail the printer and skip the librarian middleman). He's been out of work for awhile. He recently got a job, or at least he will soon be starting a new job, so yay! super nice guy.
Super nice guy is not an introvert. Super nice guy is borderline manic.
Introverts are already nodding. They don't know the specific plot but they know where this story is going.
(Oh shit, y'all. I need to pee so I wanted to make sure to save this as a draft but there wasn't a save as draft option only publish and, damndamndamn that isn't working either, and it's definitely not autosaving. Annnnd I just realized the site won't do anything fancy like save until I title it which I haven't because I have no idea where this will end up. And now that I've put in a stupid placeholder title, which you know I'll forget to change before I post, it's autosaving. So even tho I have a crap title at least I can pee worry-free.
And then there was more drama when I tried to open the saved draft and, Today, I'm sorry but we're done. You are just pushing my buttons, Today. This is me setting boundaries.)
gah!
Where was I? Oh right. Manic patron vs. introvert.
Super nice guy is at the stage of starting a new job where is all hoops. Seriously, the original B&B circus had fewer hoops. And probably fewer clowns, too. So he's printing his new hire bar code that he'll need for his drug test this afternoon and has to basically do all of his I9 paperwork online including scanning and uploading his documents. So I'm helping him with all of it and he's getting more and more, I dunno, exuberant doesn't even cover it. Think Tigger on a weekend-long I'm-never-comin'-down cocaine binge. Then up that by a few degrees.
I get it. He's excited. He's been worried about money and dealing with his disappointed parents (super nice guy is in his fifties so his dad, who I've met and my god how did such a jerk raise such a nice guy?!, has less than zero clue about job hunting in this century) and I've been there so I get how freakin' happy and just relieved he's feeling while also just a little vaguely worried that it will all fall apart.
But I was so relieved myself when he had everything done and left. And super nice as he is I'm really looking forward to when he starts his new full-time job and won't be coming to the library as often.
Picture me as a 19th century laudanum addict on a fainting couch. That's the level of energy I was at when he left. Again, either you understand or you don't. I can't explain how introverts work if you don't get it. Sorry. Just accept that situations like this leave introverts completely sucked dry of all lifeforce. And intelligence. Seriously, I couldn't successfully count to one after he left.
But that's another sad sad story.
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