The Library Situation

Where's Carol?

Mr. Alden arrived at the town library at precisely 9:58 a.m., the way he had every Tuesday for the last nine years. He carried his canvas bag and his Yeti warming mug.

At 10:01, the doors remained locked.

He adjusted his glasses.

At 10:03, he peered through the window and spotted someone inside.

He knocked.

A young woman looked up from the front desk, startled, then hurried to the door.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “The system’s down and the opening checklist got delayed. We just got the lights on in the stacks.”

Mr. Alden gave a thoughtful nod. “I suspected something like sabotage.”

“Oh, no. Just a power outage.”

He stepped inside and surveyed the front desk.

“Where’s Carol?” he asked.

“She retired last week.”

Mr. Alden blinked.

“Retired? Without telling me?”

“I think there was a party. Sheet cake, plastic balloons.”

“She knew I don’t eat sheet cake.”

“I’m Elise,” the young woman said, slightly out of breath.

Mr. Alden moved toward the computer.

“Do you know how to retrieve held items alphabetically rather than by arrival date?”

“I, I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Carol knew.”

Elise trailed behind as he strode toward the back corner. He paused at a display of “Hot New Titles” by authors who were neither hot nor new. He made a grunt and continued.

At 10:18, he reappeared with three mysteries.

“Something’s been moved,” he said.

“We did shift some shelves. ADA compliance.”

“It’s a slippery slope. First accessibility, next thing you know, the birdwatching guides are in with the romance novels.”

Elise laughed before she could stop herself.

Mr. Alden glanced at her.

“You’re new, but you’re not hopeless,” he said.

“Uh, thank you?”

He nodded and said, “I’ll see you next Tuesday. Unless you retire unexpectedly.”

“I’ll try not to. It’s not on my radar.”

As he left, Elise turned back to the computer. She tapped a few keys, then froze when she saw the sticky note on the side of her monitor.

She followed the simple four-step instructions. After pressing Enter, the entire catalog had re-sorted itself… alphabetically, by arrival date.

Mr. Alden was right, Carol knew.