Little Town Bureaucracy

As you can imagine, I do not like bureaucracy.

I have a very nice story to tell where bureaucracy was common sense and then a story of what seems to be the more typical bureaucracy.

The first story is when I went to vote early at City Hall. The lady who was handling the early voting was a real person, friendly and helpful. She also had a good system going.

It was easy to engage with her and the process.

Then when I was ready to turn in my vote, I had to have identification. Lo and behold, my wallet wasn't in my purse. Suddenly I remembered I had left my wallet with my I.D. on my desk. I thought, "Oh, no." I didn't want to have to go home and come back and go through the whole process again.

But here's what the lady said: "Do you have someone here who can vouch for you?"

I said, "Why, yes. My daughter."

Lauren came over and said, "Yes, this is my mother,' and Lauren showed the lady her I.D., and my vote was accepted. Hallelujah!

The second story concerns the Fairfield Public Library. Before I tell you, I have to give you a little background information.

I seem to have a knack for losing my library card, so I have been sharing Lauren's library card. She is perfectly happy for me to use hers.

The other night we went to the library together. Lauren dropped off a Stephanie Plum  book in the returned books slot, and I went up to the desk to renew the books I had.

So the librarian renewed the books and said, "You still have one book out."

I said, "Hmm, what is it?"

She said, "It's a Janet Evanovich book."

I thought a second and then remembered. "Oh, yes, " I said, "my daughter just dropped that off in the book return slot."

Then it was like some radar went off in the librarian's head! To get the full picture, imagine those scenes in movies where the whole FBI suddenly converges on a subject. There was that kind of tension.

Librarian, suspicious: "Is this your card? Are you Lauren Wendroff?"

Me: "No, I'm her mother. We always use the same card."

At this moment, in the slit of her eyes and the set of her mouth, I had become an insurgent. She pulled the already renewed books into the safety of her arms.

Librarian: "In this library you cannot use someone else's card."

Me: "But I'm her mother. We live next door to each other. She always lets me use her card."

Librarian: "It says right on the card that only the person whose name is on the card can take out books or return them."

Me: "For Heaven's sakes."

Librarian: "These are the rules. This is for the protection of the card-holder. Is your daughter here?"

Me: "Yes!"

Librarian: "Please have her come here."

I had to walk a mile to find Lauren and bring her to the desk.

Librarian to Lauren: "Are you Lauren Wendroff?"

Lauren: "Yes."

Librarian: "Is this woman your mother?"

Lauren (thinking for a moment to play a joke on me, and then deciding against it:) "Yes."

Librarian: "Did you authorize her to renew these books?"

Lauren: "Yes."

All this was with the solemnity of being sworn in to be the president of a nation.

Librarian: "At this library, we do not allow people to use anyone else's card. It says this right on the card."

Lauren: "Right."

Note that the librarian didn't ask Lauren for identification! After the librarian gave Lauren another lecture on the evils of sharing library cards, she handed Lauren our books, and we left.

I do not do well with bureaucracy.