Last week an old gentleman came into the library; he was looking for another book by a favorite author. I told him where to find it, but when he didn't come right back, I went over. It was in the wrong place, but not far off (thankfully), but he lamented his inability to locate it, telling me he was eighty nine years old.
This often happens to patrons: they can't find their book, and we go over and there it is. It has nothing to do with their age. But on his way out, I heard him say something aloud, but to himself, in Latin, and I wrote down what I heard, knowing that Google would most likely fill in the blanks for me. What he had said was, "Sic transit gloria mundi"; "Thus passes the glory of the world."
What he was really talking about was his own "glory," his youth and supposed ability to find library books!
Today, a frequent patron was called by one of our staff about an overdue, and she insisted she'd returned it. I went over to where it should have been, and didn't see it. Two more of us looked, but we didn't find it. After puzzling over it, a fourth staff member went over and there it was - where it was supposed to be.
This last employee is the youngest of us, at - well, I think he's nineteen. I told him his brain is young and fresh. Meanwhile, like this old fellow, I can also say, "Sic transit gloria mundi."
