"We are SO happy to have another dedicated worker, Mr. Albert Shaddix," said the grotesquely obese woman through her lipstick stained teeth. "I'm sure you'll learn to LOVE the eight floors of books-especially the 16,000 Chinese books on the sixth and seventh floors. Here is your nametag and a map of the stacks. Enjoy!"

I took the plastic tag and map from her trollish fingers and groaned to myself at the discovery of my name being spelled incorrectly. Below the bold title of Davis Library Assistant, jg was printed Alonzo Shaddiz in tiny black letters. Now I had the name of a Hispanic circus magician-an improvement to be sure. I pinned the new identity on my shirt-it hung crooked of course-and went to get my very first cart of books to be shelved.

As I randomly chose the "perfect" cart of rotting books, a rather obnoxious finger began to poke me in my left shoulder blade. I thought about not turning around and just allowing the intrusive touch to continue without resolution, but then remembered I was there to serve the book-searching public. "Hi there," exclaimed an excited young lady as my head turned to face her. Before I could respond in any way, the girl began spewing questions and irreverent information at me. "Are you Albert? I'm Bridget, Bridget Ducheyne-it's a French name. Hehe, parlez-vous français? I saw your name on the new employee list and couldn't wait to meet you! Welcome to Davis Library!"

I scanned Bridget's over-teased hair and bright purple sweater vest-complete with little plastic butterflies sewn here and there-and was almost overcome with dizziness. Never before had I ever encountered such a volatile and concentrate force of perkiness in a human being-and lucky me, she was my co-worker.

I had several options of how to respond to her inquiry. Throwing all violent actions out, I decided to deny my identity-since according to me nametag I was not Albert Shaddix-and run far away from Bridget Ducheyne.

"Sorry, but uh, no hablo ingles," I said in my best Spanish accent.

A look of great confusion and disappointment eclipsed Bridget's face. With her radioactive smile temporarily gone, I knew this was my only chance to escape. I grabbed the book cart and wheeled away as fast as a high school marching band fleeing from a burning tour bus.