Phones

It never fails to amuse when patrons (usually professors) give us a call, state their name and place of work, and then . . . pause. That pause says volumes about what the person thinks of themselves. What that pause tells me, basically, is that they think they are so well known that even I, a lowly clerk at the bottom of the feeding pool, ought to have heard of Professor Bigpomp Higginbottom of the Prestigious Primatology Department. An example may help to illustrate:

Me (answering the phone): This is Amy at Circulation, how may I help you?

Professor: Yes, Amy, this is Professor Awesome-sauce of the Obtuse Linguistics Department . . . (pregnant pause)

My expected reaction: Oh my gosh!!!! Professor Awesome-sauce! I am, like, your biggest fan! You've inspired me to become the next Noam Chomsky! I take all your classes and I think I want to have your babies!

My actual reaction: . . . Can I help you?

You see my problem. I can't deliver. It takes all my self control to keep from laughing at their poor, overblown egos. And they all have egos. The more obscure their department, the bigger it gets.
I am not beyond sympathy, however. One can hardly be surprised when a professor, probably lauded in his field for his brilliant dissertation on, let's say, the use of the comma in Milton's Paradise Lost, grows to expect that kind of admiration elsewhere. After all, we are an academic library. Why shouldn't a Circulation clerk, the representative of the library, the first line of defense, the answerer of questions, be expected to be up to date on the latest academic publications? I'll tell you why not! Because that doesn't make sense! We are not hired for our expertise in Academia. We are hired because we have what it takes to refrain from laughing at professors who think they are the morning and the evening star!
Or at least have what it takes to cover the receiver while we chuckle to ourselves.