BackTalk: No Problem with Problem Patrons

By David Isaacson -- Library Journal, 1/15/2006

My earliest memory of a very odd library patron goes back to when I was a teenager visiting the downtown branch of the Gary Public Library, IN. One of the regulars was a man who always sat at the same table in the reference room, playing chess with an imaginary opponent. Sometimes this opponent cheated and this caused the man to raise his voice. This behavior was both disruptive and amusing.

I learned a valuable lesson in courtesy and professional discipline by watching how the librarians handled this strange man. They simply walked over to him, spoke softly but firmly to him, calmed him down, and reminded him that he shouldn't disturb other people. So what if this guy wasn't using the library in a conventional way? The reference librarians were simply treating a lonely man with dignity.

Excuse me, sir...

Yes, I'll admit that some very weird people are found in libraries. Public libraries are frequently havens for the homeless, the noninstitutionalized mentally ill, and other dispossessed people. Libraries, however, are also safe places for the merely eccentric, and one of the reasons I love libraries is that they are usually as open to odd characters as they are to odd books.

I don't mean to patronize odd patrons or sound as if I merely tolerate those who differ from the norm. Some of our oddest users are indeed also problem patrons. We sometimes do have to escort them out if they cause a disturbance or smell too bad. My service ethic can be tested, sometimes sorely, by patrons who don't view the library the same way I do. These more difficult patrons, however, often challenge us to be better librarians.

Personally, I have had valuable experiences with some very strange patrons. One of the most interesting of these was Dr. Cohen, a visiting mathematics professor at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. Dr. Cohen claimed to have solved Fermat's theorem but could never persuade any of the math journals to accept his proof. He wore a suit and tie even in summer. At the cafeteria, he always dined alone, pacing the perimeter of the room twice before sitting down. He was a man of obsessive habits.

After Dr. Cohen decided not to return to the college from which he'd come, he was given a small office in the math building and began to visit our reference department nearly every day. Yet I never saw him using our math reference books. Instead, he merely poked around among the biographical resources. I would occasionally offer to help him, but with impeccable old world gentility he always politely refused. I only saw him upset once. During a fire drill, when I insisted that he had to leave the library, he was nearly hysterical. He couldn't find his briefcase.

I never saw Dr. Cohen talking at any length with anyone, but just because he was alone all the time didn't mean he was lonely. Like the chess player of my youth, Dr. Cohen seemed to be very much at home by himself in the library.

Birds of a feather

Today, we have another regular patron who seems not to be interested in our books. Rather, he always occupies one of the same two computers if they are available. At one terminal he has animated conversations with his email friends. At another terminal, which is equipped with headphones, he rocks back and forth like Ray Charles, singing along to his favorite web sites. Now and again I have to remind him to quiet down. I don't like playing the stereotyped “shusher” with him. In fact, I'm envious of all the fun he's having.

Let's face it: some of us librarians are shy bookworms, misfits who are not cut out for conventional jobs outside the sometimes excessively rulebound world of libraries. I am a bit of an oddball myself. I'm a dictionary nut. I care—care deeply, in fact—about the differences between the second and third unabridged editions of Merriam Webster's Dictionary. At library conferences, my favorite activity is talking to dictionary sales reps who share my passion. I have been caught talking aloud to my dictionaries. Fact is, I am as odd a character as some of the odd characters who haunt my library. Clearly, we can't do without one another.

Maybe we should all think twice before we label some of our users as problem patrons. I wish I could say I have always acted in a kind and understanding way toward problem patrons. There have been times when I have been less than courteous to those who have shouted at me or made what I thought were impossible demands. But I'm glad libraries make a special place for misfits.