Irrelevant Cheetah

Yesterday I was thinking about librarians (I know, it’s a long story – don’t ask.) In order to get a job as a librarian you should have at least a bachelor’s degree in Library Science. A master’s degree is, as is so often the case, even better. So then I started wondering why. Out loud, even, until my wife told me to stop. I mean, I know my way around the Dewey Decimal system like nobody’s business. If you want me to alphabetize a stack of books, or filing cards, stand back. I’m an alphabetizing fool. ‘Guitar’ goes before ‘Unicorn’ every time. ‘Platypus’ trumps ‘X-Ray.’ And as far as I know, those two tasks are the most challenging of a librarian’s duties.

So what could you possibly learn in the Library Science course of study at Anytown U.? For six years? What sort of hidden knowledge are these graduates privy to that the rest of us will never know? I probably spent way too much time on this train of thought and came up with the following list of possibilities:

1. Remember the movie The Librarian, with Noah Wyle? I’m thinking something along those lines, where the librarian is charged with the preservation of King Ogle’s Scepter and Jamela of Igglescomp’s Mystic Salad Fork.
2. Bill collector training, so they can deal with numbskulls like me who owe $13.73 in overdue fines for over two years.
3. Okay, this isn’t a possibility, but it bears writing: ‘librarian’ is not an easy word to type. It tends to come out ‘libarian’, and then Micro$oft Word puts those angry red little squiggly lines underneath it telling you you’re a dumbass.
4. They learn about the hidden corners of the Internet, like how to find Brad Pitt’s home phone number and where to purchase Alien Abduction Insurance.
5. Or perhaps they become part of a global conspiracy.  With their knowledge of books and rubber stamps and codes like “NAD001.34.FRY” they are thus able to steer humankind’s learning in a specific direction, away from interstellar travel, cancer cures and edible fruitcake recipes.

I’m leaning toward the global conspiracy idea, myself. I’ve dealt with more than one freaky old library lady that peered over her glasses at me and hissed “Get out! And take your rubber chicken with you!” So then I had to gather up all of my poodles, and disconnect the EKG, and it was really just a definite inconvenience, you know? So I think they’re just not telling us everything. But that’s just me.