A young slip of a girl on ridiculously high heels comes teetering up to the issue desk, looking malnourished and vacant.
Girl: There’s a book waiting for me.
Me: OK, I’ll need your library card, please.
Girl: *Sigh*
Girl rummages through the hugest, ugliest bag in the world.
Me: Have you checked your pockets?
Girl: It’s not in my pocket. I never put it in my pocket.
Me: Have you checked though?
Girl: It’s in my bag, it’s always in my bag. I put it in my bag…
Me: Mmm, I’m sure.
Girl rummages for a couple of minutes while I serve someone else.
Me: You should check your pockets.
Girl: I had it in my hand a minute ago…
Me: You probably put it in your pocket, then.
Girl continues to rummage. I tidy away some paperwork.
Girl: Where is it? I can’t believe I’ve lost it!
I start checking my email.
Me: You probably put it in your pocket.
Girl: I don’t put it in my pocket because I always forget about it.
Me: It’s in your pocket. Please check your pocket.
Girl: It’s not in my pocket.
Girl tips bag out on to the floor.
I spend a couple of minutes answering the phone. When I come back, Girl is clutching at her hair.
Me: It’s in your pocket.
Girl: Look, it’s not in my pocket…
Me: It’s going to be in your pocket.
Girl: Why would I put it in my pocket?
Girl makes a show of turning out her pockets. Discovers library card.
Girl: Oh. I never put it in my pocket.
Me: Evidently.
This sort of conversation wouldn’t bother me so much if it wasn’t for the fact that I have to engage in it sometimes five or six times in a day. If there was ever any evidence for slipping standards in education it would be my harrassed, ticcing face at the end of each and every shift serving these socially inept retards.