Yesterday was a weird day at the office. Tensions were high, tempers were flaring, doors were slamming... It really dampened my spirits. So I looked forward all day to going to Borders- my 'fun job.'

All was well at first. I was scheduled for one hour at the information desk, and three hours in multimedia with Stevie-poo. I didn't have to be at the register (which I hate) at all. About fifteen minutes into my Info hour, the lady at the register called over the radio that she was sending a customer to info, and that she seemed... "unwell." Well, we get plenty of crazies in there, so I didn't think much of it.

At first the lady just seemed a little eccentric, not unlike my neighbor Debbie. She told me she was looking for stationery, and told me that that was for writing letters, not this email garbage everyone's doing these days. I showed her where it was, and then she kept me for twenty minutes looking up various books and DVD's in the computer as people lined up behind her needing help, and I had to call time and time again for backup. She also tried to help the customers, although she didn't really know where anything they were asking for was, and she was sending them to the wrong place. Over the next twenty minutes or so, it dawned on me that she wasn't crazy... she was clearly afflicted with that most heartbreaking of diseases- Alzheimer's.

I tried to be patient with her, but it was really hard. Just before Jim came back to relieve me from the Information desk, she had me order ten copies of a book about flamingoes, and ten copies of a book about fish. Then she told me she orders books from us all the time, but she can never seem to remember to come pick them up. GREAT. We are getting twenty books that we will have to send right back! Upon telling me this, she inexplicably burst into tears. I felt terrible for her, but I had NO IDEA what to do! Give me a crying child, and I can work with it. A weepy heartbroken friend is a little more awkward. But a 65+-year-old stranger... I was completely befuddled. As I saw Jim coming back to relieve me, I patted her shoulder awkwardly and ran like crazy for the multimedia department!

Now a little about multimedia (or MINFO as we call it.) Stevie-poo is the MINFO supervisor, and my boyfriend; whether or not he's aware of that last part is irrelevant. He's a bit of a perfectionist about his department, and his expectations about what should be done in a shift are sometimes completely unrealistic. As I walked back to the MINFO department, I saw two big library carts full of CD's and DVD's that I knew I would be expected to have shelved in a mere three hours. Not likely, but possible. As I started working, I saw that my customer had not left and was making her way back to my department. I carefully placed myself behind a large beam, out of her line of vision. This worked well for about five minutes; I sorted product silently so she wouldn't hear and come investigate. Then I heard her yell at the top of her lungs, "Is there anybody back here that can help a customer?!" I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer for my sanity and temperament, and went to help her find a Carpenters CD. She kept me for another 45 minutes or so, helping her find things, and telling me her life story. I was not getting any of my work accomplished. Finally, she said she was leaving. I eagerly wished her a pleasant evening and returned to my work.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I was called to help in the cafe. The girl working in the cafe was brand new. As I walked over there, who did I see at the counter, but... you guessed it. My customer. I stopped dead in my tracks and shook my head desperately at Amy, but I had no choice but to go help. She didn't know how to delete items from the transaction. The poor lady had a whole bag full of books, CD's, and DVD's, and eight dollars. [As I type this, my heart breaks for her, but at the time, I just wanted her to leave. I was SO frustrated and tense.] As I helped Amy cancel the transaction, the lady started crying again. I asked her if she would be okay to get home, or if she needed us to call someone (I was NOT comfortable with the idea of this lady terrorizing Poplar Avenue!) She said she would be fine, and I had no choice but to let her leave.

(And for the record, even with all that, I got all the multimedia shelved before we left. Thank you, thank you. No applause.)

Two valuable lessons were learned:

A. If my mother's worst fear is realized and SHE is stricken with Alzheimer's one day, I now know that I will have to put her in a home. I am not as patient as I always thought I would be... two hours with this lady, and it got really hard to be nice and not let my frustration get the better of me.

B. There are other methods of written communication besides email.