The sound of machinery hums, fills the void.
Every two minutes the grating sound of the minute hand scrapes its fraction of circumference, the other filler of The Friday Void.
8:29pm. In waddles manager and "The Library Closes in Thirty Minutes" in the same tone for years.
"Alright, flush 'em out."
I walk through the deserted building searching the crannies for patrons.
When I find one, you know what I say.
I say, "The Library Closes in 25 minutes," and they nod.
Sometimes I amuse myself.
"The Library Will be Closing In T-minus Twenty minutes. I repeat, The Library Will be Closing In T-minus Twenty Minutes."
My voice booms through a wide open room.The only way I can accurately describe this is to say that I state the fact in a similar manner to the New York Lotto Mega Jackpot man, and I chuckle.
I get annoyed when patrons are still in the library after Nine O'clock, the official closing time.
For instance, today at 9:02pm there was a girl in the computer lab, just sitting.
"The Library Closed Two Minutes Ago," I state with force. "Get out," I want to say.
So she gets out. It takes very little prodding, but still, get out before Nine. Come on.
I forgot to mention the bells. 30 Minutes, 15 Minutes, and 5 Minutes prior to closing time we sound the bells.
They are loud and occasionally I have a manager on board that delves deeply into the realm of Schadenfreude; he sounds the bells just a bit too long, potentially piercing patrons' tempanic membranes.
And we laugh.
And so the library closes on a Friday Night.
And so it goes.
Every two minutes the grating sound of the minute hand scrapes its fraction of circumference, the other filler of The Friday Void.
8:29pm. In waddles manager and "The Library Closes in Thirty Minutes" in the same tone for years.
"Alright, flush 'em out."
I walk through the deserted building searching the crannies for patrons.
When I find one, you know what I say.
I say, "The Library Closes in 25 minutes," and they nod.
Sometimes I amuse myself.
"The Library Will be Closing In T-minus Twenty minutes. I repeat, The Library Will be Closing In T-minus Twenty Minutes."
My voice booms through a wide open room.The only way I can accurately describe this is to say that I state the fact in a similar manner to the New York Lotto Mega Jackpot man, and I chuckle.
I get annoyed when patrons are still in the library after Nine O'clock, the official closing time.
For instance, today at 9:02pm there was a girl in the computer lab, just sitting.
"The Library Closed Two Minutes Ago," I state with force. "Get out," I want to say.
So she gets out. It takes very little prodding, but still, get out before Nine. Come on.
I forgot to mention the bells. 30 Minutes, 15 Minutes, and 5 Minutes prior to closing time we sound the bells.
They are loud and occasionally I have a manager on board that delves deeply into the realm of Schadenfreude; he sounds the bells just a bit too long, potentially piercing patrons' tempanic membranes.
And we laugh.
And so the library closes on a Friday Night.
And so it goes.
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