Margaret stopped me again today at work. Apparently another person filed a complaint about me, can't imagine who that would have been. Apparently she went to Ilsa this time, some story about me refusing to help her or something. To be honest, I wouldn't help her if I thought I could get away with it. Maybe next time. Not that she accepts my help anyway, even though I try.
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Samantha was writing at homer this time, she didn't have time to go to the forest. She had other plans. The library was due for inventory, and that job, of course, fell to her. It was as if she was the only worker there, not one of four. The only thing she didn't do was check out books; if she did, no one would let her help them anyway. Not that the others could do what she did. Samantha would be surprised to learn that they knew what a book is, given their knowledge of the library. She had tried, at first, to teach them. That lasted about a week before she realized they were never going to listen to her, no matter what she said. So, she was left with all the actual work, and they were left to scan stickers with red lights.
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