the unsalted variety

Over the past couple of days we’ve been getting chocolates from our Print Handicapped patrons. The people who call us and we select boxes full of audiobooks to send to their branches so they have stuff to read. It’s a lot of work, especially for the patrons who’ve read almost the entire collection (you have to check the file of what they’ve read compared with what is available compared with what they hate and will not read, all on software that sucks donkey balls).

My favourite Print Handicapped patron came in on Friday to drop off her “rather dubious card.” She’s so British and subdued deadpan funny. She told me how she’d watched a movie last week that she was surprised to discover she owned. It was David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. She didn’t like it very much. But she watched it. We tried to find her a couple of DAISYbooks, and she went off (in a subdued deadpan kind of way) when I suggested she try a Michael Ignatieff biography. Last time I helped her, she’d very conspiratorially borrowed a Trudeau biography, on the condition that I wouldn’t tell anyone. So yeah, good times with the little old ladies.

As a result of this goodwill, I’m eating way too much chocolate at work. One lady sent us a giant bag of those Lindt chocolate balls. I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for at least half of them disappearing.

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