That time I got trespassed from the library

 Rather than explaining this, here's the letter I wrote the library director:

Hi there. I just wanted to follow up on what happened between Steve (not the real name) and me at the library today. I honestly don't expect you to do anything about it but wanted to have it on record, because I have concerns about how Steve might treat other children besides mine.

Ever since Steve started working at the library, I've been amazed at how good he is with people. He's almost unfailingly kind and accommodating. He seems genuinely interested in engaging with patrons, and he definitely has that "retired teacher" vibe like my mom (who taught 2nd-4th grade for 30 years). 

For that reason, it was a little startling last week when I heard him kind of snap at my son once, asking to be called "Mr. Steve" rather than just "Steve." It was fine, though; that's great to know what he prefers to be called... it's just that it's been six months and this was the first my son had heard of it, so in my opinion, Steve came in a little hot. No big deal; we can't all be "on" all the time.

However, when I got home and was talking to my son, he told me about another thing that happened. I decided to speak with Steve about it, so today after everyone kind of cleared out and we were alone, I ran through the scenario with him.

I said, "My son told me that last week you were showing a couple of people around and you were going down the hall as he was coming up the hall to the restroom. Mal said that he kind of did a little shuffle like, 'Oh, who goes which way?' and you said, 'I know what you're doing and it's not funny.'" Steve nodded like, "Yes, go on..." So I said, "I would like to request that if you need to correct my kid, you say something like, 'Please stop that.' Do you see the difference? 'Please stop that' is 'this behavior needs to end' and what you said is more like, 'you're a little shit and maybe no one else sees it, but I do.'" At that, Steve said, "Oh, no, you can't use that kind of language. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Yeah. I'm going to go get Director and have him make you leave."

I stood there in shock for a moment, but when he came back, I said, "I will leave. It's amazing that we've been coming here for 10 years and this has always been a safe place, but it doesn't feel like it now. You used kind words to be rude to my kid, and I used a rude word to explain it to you. Those are the same. Neither one is better or worse." He said, "And I'll continue to do that if kids act like that." I said, "Act like what?! He's a good kid and he was being silly! I do hope you'll think about what I said in your future interactions with children."

So.. We're looking for another place to meet. That's fine. We've had a great run with 4 years at the library, and we have appreciated it more than you know. These kids have become the best of friends over the past few years, and having a third space to hang out has helped them grow their relationships. It has meant the world to us.

All of that said, I think Steve is a bully. He cornered my kid in a hallway, and he used his power as a city employee to shut me down when I tried to speak to him and find an understanding. I was not threatening; I was not upset. He was mad and he wielded power unnecessarily to insist I leave. 

Finally... adults in the library having a good time or trying to figure out how to print out stuff while on speakerphone with their doctor and plenty of other similar situations are much noisier and more disruptive than our kids have ever been. I genuinely think when we moms stopped hanging out in the back room with them (to try to help them become more independent), Steve decided we were doing something wrong and he has not been as cheerful since.

Last week, a man had left his charger in the back room and came up with it and asked my friend and me, "Are those your kids? Man, they're nice. They're so polite! What a great group of kids." They are. They're amazing. I'm sorry the library is losing them.

Thanks for listening, and for all you do,
Laura