The Ways That They React

Working with the public, in any capacity, has to be the most interesting way to spend one's days. Only through interacting with different people on a daily basis can one become aware of - and amazed by - the variety of personalities that human beings possess.

I'm thinking about the ways in which people react when they're told that they have to pay a fine.

It is a pleasure to work with those who approach the desk and, in response to the question "How can I help you?" reply candidly that "I'd like to pay a fine on my card" or "I'm returning this book, and I think that I owe a fine on it." These responses are not only made by people who owe fifteen cents; many times people with a twenty-five dollar fine on their record (and therefore currently unable to borrow materials) are just as likely to admit their mistakes, want to pay their debt, and continue to use the library. They are the most satisfying interactions.

But then there are the others.

Our staff informs patrons about fines as soon as we notice them. The moment that we scan their library cards and see their record on the screen the computer alerts us that they owe a fine. It is our responsibility to say, lightly, "Did you know that you have a fine on your card?" Then, as long as the amount is under twenty-five dollars, we inform them that they don't have to pay at that particular moment.

While some people are gracious, laugh lightly, and dig the change out of their pockets or their purses, others have a different reaction. For example, I recently had a conversation with a woman named Caroline, a woman who was perfectly friendly when I searched for a book for her, but hardened when I told her about her - gasp - one-dollar fine.

"It looks like you have a dollar fine on your card," I said as I was about to scan the books that she wanted to borrow.

"For what?" Caroline snapped.

"For two DVDs that were returned late. They were each a day overdue." I turned the screen so that she could see her record.

The elderly lady standing next to Caroline (who was not with Caroline, but was waiting to check out her own materials) looked shocked. "You charge fifty cents a day for late movies? That's expensive!"

I decided that it was unwise to tell her that we had recently reduced our late fees from one dollar a day to fifty cents a day. Nor did I say that those who return their movies on time - or who call to renew them - don't pay a fine at all. I turned my attention back to Caroline.

Now even more aware of a great sense of injustice, Caroline puffed.

"I remember returning those DVDs. On time. I put them in the bookdrop. I always return my library materials on time."

I sighed inwardly. Arguing about fines is not my favorite aspect of providing library service (not many library employees would claim that it is, I imagine), and is one reason - albeit a small one - that I far prefer assisting with a reference question. I certainly couldn't respond as I wished - with a gentle reminder that anyone could claim that they always return their materials by the due date. Nor was one dollar worth risking the loss of a library user.

"All right," I replied. "I'll waive the fine for you this time. But please be sure to check your receipts for the due date in the future, okay?"

"I will. Thank you," Caroline walked off with a smile.

My interaction with Caroline, as briefly uncomfortable as it was, is just one example of how excited people become at the very idea of owing the library (of all places!) money. Waiving one dollar is not a big deal (although if every staff member did so, every day, the library would certainly lose much-needed money!). Needless to say, I call a supervisor for assistance if I need to question whether I should waive a fine, or if a patron becomes absolutely incensed (oh, how happy I am that I'm not a supervisor!).

Later, I checked out DVDs to a patron named Mark.

"You have a book that's overdue," I told him when I saw his record. "Would you like me to renew it for you?"

"What book is it?" he asked.

"A book by Fern Michaels," I showed him the screen.

"I never took out that book."

Okay. "Is it possible that someone else used your card?"

"No."

Well, then. "All right. Why don't I go check the shelf to see if the book is there?"

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it."

Sure enough, the item was not in the stacks.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't see it. According to our system, the book is not in the building. I'll renew it for you. Please look at home. Sometimes people find things that they had forgotten to return."

"I'll do that, but I know that I never took it out." Mark gathered his DVDs and left.

Perhaps Mark was right that he had never borrowed the book, that a staff member accidentally checked it out on his card rather than on that of the person who was actually borrowing the book. That seems unlikely, though. And as I mentioned earlier, although we are often inclined to act in the patron's favor, I wonder at the consequences of continuously doing so. Although Caroline and Mark may very well be honest people, many others are not - and those people, too, can easily claim that an item checked out on their card was never actually checked out to them, or that they returned the items on time.