Friday, November 12, 2004

The Little Shit

One of the library bus stops is in a relatively rough part of town. It’s not like there are drug deals going on outside the shops, or prostitutes at every corner – it’s just a bit more low-income, with a bigger share of recent immigrants than the rest of the city. It’s the stop where gloomy-faced B. nearly always shows up to collect her senior fiction and browse the Woman’s Weeklys. It’s where the bald English playwright comes to borrow from the Talking Book collection. It’s also where I got punched in the face this afternoon.

The kid, whom I’ll refer to as The Little Shit, is a skinny African kid who looks maybe twelve years old. He was hanging around the bus, but not coming in. Finally he did come on board the bus. The Little Shit asked to look at the soccer book which I had only just this minute checked in and shelved; I gave it to him. Then the other two people on the bus left. It was a couple of minutes before I had to leave this stop and drive the bus back to the main library. Then The Little Shit, who’d been polite though slightly strange, asked me about the CDs, etc. – normal stuff that kids on the bus always ask. Anyway, it turned out he didn’t have his library card and I couldn't wait for his sister to show up with it ‘cos it was already time to go.

And that’s when he socked me on the cheek with a strong right hook.

He scooted out the door before I could grab a dictionary and hurl it at him, and I’m embarrassed to say that I immediately lost my temper and called him a “little fucking bastard”. More than once, and really quite loudly the second time.

I was sooo angry. So angry that I did what I often do when I’m really angry. I cried (and that’s even more embarrassing – why couldn’t I express anger by simply beating him up?)

Back at the library, I told my boss, who really looked after me. She went with me to the police station where I gave a statement (and realised just how un-prose-like my speaking style really is), offered to do my Saturday shift tomorrow (of course I said yes, I’m a big softie but I’m not soft in the head) and made me promise to ring her tomorrow and assure her I’m okay. (She’s usually way too motherly for my liking, but this time I really appreciated it.) The rest of the library staff were really supportive too – I got lots of concerned murmurs and a second offer to do my Saturday shift tomorrow.

I came straight home instead of going to the pool – I needed to tell my boy about it and hear him offer to “kick the shit out of him” and indeed that made me feel a lot better.

9 comments:

nichole said...

Ouch! I'm so sorry. That's far above and beyond the line of duty...

Casyn said...

That's horrible!

Why couldn't he just have snuck away with it while there were others there then bolted like everyone else who steals stuff? What drives a child to want to thump someone so they can steal?

I hope you get to throw the dictionary at the childs parents.

Pickwick said...

Hooley dooley! Who says the life of a librarian is boring?

Personally, I wouldn't wish for you to throw a dictionary at him. I like them too much, but I'd want him to fall, hard, and as he did so, for the book to fly open and deliver him with 100 paper cuts.

See, who says I don't like kids?...

Violet said...

Thanks for your sympathy, guys.

Fortunately I don't have an ugly bruise, though it's definitely tender to the touch. When I told my boyfriend he seriously wanted me to give him The Little Shit's address (which we have), so he could go over there and talk to his parents (or beat him up); I didn't want him to get into trouble but knowing he wanted to do it did make me feel better.

The strange thing was, The Little Shit didn't even steal anything as far as I could tell - and if he did it was probably only one CD.

Violet said...

The management haven't taken me off the roster for this bus run, though they talked about sending someone with me. I just wanna take a large stick with me next time...

darth said...

you need a bodyguard!

Foxy said...

My deepest sympathies! This is my worst nightmare. I'm so glad that you started a paper trail on him. Please take care of yourself.

Amanda said...

You poor thing. How awful.

Violet said...

I'm okay - I've gotten a lot of mileage out of it in terms of kindly attention, and my boss told me I was
"gutsy" because I yelled at The Little Shit instead of cowering (as if!). But yeah, come Friday I'll be looking to bring some weaponry on board in case he dares to show his face again.