Incompetent? As if.

I'm sitting on my little stool, pouring over the day's top 25 lists. A big hulking man strides up to my desk with a book and slams it down. I look up, "Are you all set?" I rise, thinking he wants to check out.
"I'm not all set. I found this book in fiction. It is clearly a biography."
"Oh," I say. "Well, things get misplaced."
"Well it looks like one of your staff is incompetent."
No. He did not just say that. Now, when I find a book out of place I am allowed to sigh and think, "What was she thinking? Silly." But I become a little protective when someone insults my first-floor staff.
I blink rapidly. "Actually, all the people working on this floor are currently earning degrees while working full-time jobs. I wouldn't call that incompetent. I would call that...tired."
I take the book, put it gently into the second-floor re-sort, and sit back down.
"Can I help you with anything else?"
He's already walking away.


And he's clearly a person who just likes to find mistakes, because five minutes later he approaches with a magazine.
"And I suppose this is okay?"
I look down at the British Elle. Lindsay Lohan's face graces the cover, but one of her eyes is scribbled out and "Phallus Phace" is written across hers.
Yes, yes it is okay. Cause CLEARLY my over-worked, over-harrassed staff has time to deface our magazines.
"Thank you," I say brightly. "I will take this atrocity out of circulation immediately!"
"I would hope so," he says, and strides away with a grin, his mission completed.
HIS MISSION OF MAKING ME CRAZY.