J S.
Yelp
I've tried to like Robarts. I really have. I know it has unparalleled collections, top-notch research librarians, and performs a valuable public service. And I appreciate that many of the problems I have with the library are structural in nature and can be traced back to insufficient funding, internal politicking, and the fact that an institution of its size will inevitably experience some bureaucratic inefficiency.
Yet after three years of regular use I've learned that before I go visit the giant peacock I have to take some deep breaths and steel myself for an experience that will almost inevitably end in frustration and/or disappointment. This should not be the case. I'm an ideal patron: I go out of my way to be polite to the librarians at the circulation desk; I've never returned a single book late; I take care of all the materials I check out to the extent that when I make marginal notes in pencil I go back and erase them before returning them; I don't talk on my phone when I'm in the stacks (this one is admittedly just a matter of basic courtesy), and prior to switching to the automated machines I even lined up the barcodes before I took books to the front desk to be checked out.
It's not like I expect some kind of direct karmic transaction for being a good patron. I know I'm just a barcode to Robarts, and that's okay. But I'm sick to death of being treated like I'm personally affronting some of the circulation librarians when I need to pick up a hold and they sigh like walking three feet to the holds shelf is asking a special favour of them. I'm sick of the employees at the entrances to the stacks not even looking when I flash my t-card because they're too busy watching the Real Housewives on Megavideo. I'm sick of being told to "go back and check again" when I've looked several different times for a book that the catalog says is available and want to put in a search request.
That's just the personnel side of things. I'm sure the front-line staff at Robarts get treated poorly by a whole lot of people on a daily basis, and I know it's not a customer service job per se. I get it. And to be fair, there are some circulation librarians who are personable and helpful, who return your smile and who say "you're welcome" after being thanked. Three cheers for those kind souls. But then there are the operational issues, such as the fact that I frequently have to search multiple floors for footstools so I can look for books on top shelves that inevitably aren't there anyway. Or that the stacks are inaccessible until 1 o'clock on Sundays. Or that all the elevators rarely work at once. Or that I have the number that you call when you've returned books but they still show up on your account programmed into my phone because that happens so often. The most recent frustration happened just yesterday: the change machine that loudly spat out 20 loonies in exchange for the $20 bill I inserted, not the 3 $5 bills and 5 loonies it advertised. On its own this would barely be an inconvenience, but in context it's emblematic of my entire relationship with the library.
And even when Robarts tries to do me a favour, like assigning me a carrel, it's almost unusable because the windows are caked in yellow grime to the point where I can barely see outside, the lock constantly jams and requires a caretaker to come open it, and all winter cold air blows out of the vent, necessitating the wearing of gloves, a hat and a scarf in order to read comfortably (and making it more or less impossible to type without my fingers freezing).
The other libraries on campus should thank Robarts for setting the bar so low. Graham, Kelly, Pratt, OISE - these libraries are efficient in and of themselves, but in comparison to this behemoth they're downright humanizing. Although come to think of it, perhaps Robarts deserves some kind of credit for inspiring me to devote part of my Friday night to a Yelp review of something that's not even an actual business; maybe I should use this site to find a therapist instead.