Librarian Whore

I went to the New York Public Library to pick up my latest subway reads (I’m cheap) and when I couldn’t find my reserves on the shelf I had this conversation with a rather judgmental librarian.









me: I don’t see my reserves on the shelf.
old bag: (after scanning my library card) Lets see… you’re picking up ‘My French…’ ohhhhh, my.
me: ‘My French Whore’
old bag: Yes, I see that. (shooting me a scornful look)
me: Its by Gene Wilder. The comedian. Willie Wonka? Blazing Saddles?
old bag: Mmmmmhmmmm (twisting her nose in more scorn)
me: Its not porn or anything. Its about his wife. Like a term of endearment. Like me calling my girlfriends ‘my bitches’ or something.

I eventually got my books and I’m pretty sure a flag on my library account.