Some Guy on Twitter Who Hates Me

There’s some guy on twitter who hates me. I have no idea who this person is, but he knows who I am. He also seems pretty sure he knows the core of my being. And that core is rotten. Rotten as ever a core of any being has ever been. He refers to me as the “Bearded Neanderthal” and demands I be removed from my current position as a fake librarian at one of the busiest branches in a large urban library system located in one of the most populous cities in the Pacific Northwest. He perceives my attitude, actions and approach toward the public – especially the homeless and mentally ill – as aggressive, bullying, and full of contempt.

I must admit, I don’t have a twitter account. I don’t tweet. I don’t retweet. I don’t tag. I don’t post twitpics. I don’t follow and I don’t have followers. I do not engage friends, strangers, celebrities or anybody else, for that matter – in twitter-wars. In fact, I had to look up what all these terms meant after I arrived at work one morning to find an email from my boss, asking if I knew anything about or had had any recent interactions with some guy on twitter who hates me and who was now lashing out at me publicly and electronically, through tagging the library’s twitter account.

I believe this method of personal attack took not only myself off guard, but also the librarians who manage the library’s twitter account. “Are you an adult who loves YA fiction? Looks like there might be a support group for that” “The library is hosting free, drop-in help for enrolling in a health care plan as part of Affordable Care Act “. “Looking for trending news…from 1851? Read the NY Times from 1851-today, via the library’s website.” These were some recent tweets from @splbuzz in the few days leading up to when some guy on twitter who hates me started his online vitriol against me.

The opening move in his push to rid the public of having to endure the awfulness I hurled at them constantly and consistently with my attitude and actions included the following 2 tweets: “You have two staff at Ballard who are openly contemptuous and needlessly aggressive towards your poor and mentally ill patrons…” “One is the bearded new guy. Consistently amped up and trolling for a fight with the homeless…”

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was amped up and trolling for a fight with our neighborhood’s homeless. Or maybe, just maybe… I was too busy actually performing the tasks entrusted upon me in my position, first and foremost keeping the library a safe and inviting environment for all. Maybe I was busy the day after he started his campaign against me. Busy finding the men’s handicapped stall filled with hieroglyphics drawn out in human feces. Busy locking that bathroom door and then calling our custodial staff to come for an emergency visit and cleaning. Busy having my colleague come and let me know, just 15 minutes after I’d locked that stall door that there was someone intoxicated and unresponsive on the toilet inside that very stall.

No, that’s not possible, I told my coworker. I’d locked the door myself. There had been no one inside. The stall had been empty except for a menagerie of malodorous cave drawings – a finger-painted shit buffalo here, a finger-painted shit antelope there. But no, there he was. A drunken fellow who’d crawled under the locked door, through the muck and smeared matter, to his perch on the bowl in a little box all covered in shit.

“SIR!” my associate yelled at the man. “SIR! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!? SIR!! WE ARE GOING TO CALL THE PARAMEDICS!” And so we did. And so they came. And so, after recognizing the drunken man from earlier in the day and helping him again regain consciousness, the paramedics left after the inebriated man walked out of the library on his own accord.

Some guy on Twitter who hates me solicited his Twitter followers for help in his crusade against me. “Seattle friends- If you or anyone you know has a @splbuzz horror story please post it on their Twitter feed! RT” RT stands for retweet, which means copy this tweet and post it as your own. But nobody retweeted. When his attempt to rouse his followers failed, some guy who hates me on twitter appealed to the readers of the Stranger -one of Seattle’s local, leftist weekly newspapers “…please ask your readers to post their @splbuzz horror stories en masse…” Nobody posted. Nobody retweeted. Nobody appeared to have any horror stories to share en masse. And so, some guy on Twitter who hates me continued his struggle tout seul.

Left to fight alone for the disabled, destitute and deranged, some guy who hates me on twitter decided it was time to give his first person account of the atrocity witnessed, the last affront he could handle – that had brought him to this Batman-like avengement and mission to depose me from my position of fake librarian at the Ballard library, all for the good of the people. “FYI- here is the incident that was my final straw…” he tweeted “…middle aged stroke victim being savagely bullied by Ballard spl’s macho bully… Slams table with fist. leans in, makes eye contact, and screams at him loudly… …for taking up too much space on an otherwise empty table. Victim’s eyes well up. Trembles… Nearby gaggle of homeless cower as Ballard’s best struts off. Triggered my ptsd from 20 ft. away. Still haunts me…” As if there would be any way his audience was not convinced of my evil, nefarious, hell driven temperament, he clarified its extent “ If I had a dollar for every time he shot me a rage filled glare i could buy Europe” said one tweet. “Once as i was leaving i said my usual ‘thank you’ he shot me a hate filled glare and appeared to barely… barely resist throwing a punch…” said another.

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

Like when the tall, extremely drunk man who could barely stand challenged my boss and I to a fight. “Who’s he?” the man yelled at my boss as I stood a good 15 feet from the confrontation currently unfolding. “Is that your back-up? IS THAT YOUR BACKUP?!? COME ON! LET’S GO! BOTH OF YOU! LET’S TAKE THIS OUTSIDE AND SEE WHO’S A MAN!” the poor fellow, possessed by some sort of demon and unleashed by the scores of alcohol he had ingested, screamed at my boss. The other library patrons all scattered away from the bank of computers next to where the gentleman stood. “ARE YOU A VETERAN?!? DID YOU FIGHT FOR YOUR COUNTRY?!?” he inquired., speech slurred. We stood our ground. Patiently. Waiting for the police to arrive and help us escort this man out of our library without our patrons, ourselves or this sad, sick individual who seemed barely able to stand, getting hurt.

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

Like when a regular library patron, a man who I’d help find materials time and time again, whose questions I’d answered time and time again, stumbled his way into the library and up to the reference desk in a drunken stupor asking for my coworkers at the desk to call the medics for him.

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

Like when that drunken man stood as I approached my colleagues at the information desk, pointed his finger directly at me and screamed “FUCK YOU!! YOU’RE A FUCKING WEIRDO!!! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING WEIRDO!!!”

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

Like when I just smiled back at him as the insults hurled my way and I pretended to not be affected by the perverse emotional attack I was enduring.

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

Like when that damaged man stumbled his way back out the library door and passed out on the curb of the sidewalk until the medics came and helped him stay alive.

Barely able to resist throwing a punch.

I know who I am. I am loving. I am caring. I am kind. I am intelligent. I am creative. I am conceptual. I am someone who chooses to give my time, energy and emotion to helping others both more and less fortunate than myself. I am someone who chooses to bring lightness, positivity and the promise of better days ahead to those people whom I come into contact with. I am someone who refuses to be defined by some guy on twitter who hates me.

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