For somebody who writes fiction and is addicted to reading, I find character arcs mostly phony. They’re a necessity, sure. But no matter how many times I get tingly seeing Ebenezer Scrooge drop that coin out the window, I ultimately think character arcs are fluff. Who changes their entire outlook on life in the space of night, pushy ghosts or not? I’m certain if the story kept going, by March Scrooge would be back to penny-pinching Cratchit once he put the ghost of Christmas Future safely in the past.
To me, a New Year’s resolution is like change in a story. Your very own character arc in a bottle. A moment of profound declaration to turn over a new leaf. The only problem is most of the time the change doesn’t last.
In my experience great change comes slowly. Not in the turn of a page. Yes, I’ve had the boogers scared out of me and swore “I’ll never do that again,” and sometimes I don’t, but most times, I don’t do EXACTLY “that” again. When it comes to certain mistakes, I’m like a broken record that can’t quite make it to the next groove.
Take returning library books, for example. I’m the constant Late Returner. The abuser of the loan duration. I’m the guy who has the new Stephen King and keeps everyone else waiting…and waiting…and waiting. I’m a bad patron. And I don’t always whisper in the library, either (although I think the days of SHHH signs are numbered)!
I’ve always justified my library-loan transgressions by telling myself that when I pay my fines, I’m contributing needed revenue to the library system where there otherwise would have been none had I returned the item on time. Rationalizing is awesome! Like the saying goes, “Change adds up.” But as of recent experience, that saying has taken on a much darker atmosphere and sounds more like a reckoning.
Libraries have always been the motherly establishment of municipal structures within a village, raising us with knowledge and encouragement instead of fear and consequence: “You can’t pay your fine today. Oh, that’s okay. Get it next time.” And it seems libraries are never without a bright-eyed, sweet, grandmotherly paige or librarian to aim you in the direction of your next great read.
However, on a recent library visit, the once matronly building went from Mother Goose to Mr. Scrooge on the turn of a dime. And I think I’m a changed man in about as much time, spouting a New Year’s resolution to never be late on a library book again.
This is my character arc:
A couple weeks ago, I stopped into the Huntley library to pick up a book. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I used the self-checkout terminal. Interacting with robots is always fun. When I scanned my card, the machine politely informed me I had a $117.00 fine on my account. My jaw dropped. What did I do? Keep a book checked out for a thousand years! I didn’t even think it was possible to have a fine that large on an account. The terminal then informed me (again politely) to “see the circulation desk for details.”
Darn right I’m seeing the circulation desk for details.
When I got up there, I had trouble even forming my words as I explained the situation.
“This has to be some mistake,” I said.
“Let’s see what we can find out,” the attendant said and scanned my card. She appeared less shocked over the amount than I was.
“Ahh, here we go,” she said after a moment. She went on to explain that I had an audiobook overdue by three weeks. By my calculation that should have totaled around $1.05. So where’d the other $115.95 come from?
Who knew?
She then noticed the book was checked out from the Algonquin library (I still have an active card there from when I lived in LITH) and explained that the Algonquin library now charges you the full amount of the item if it’s overdue by more than two weeks.
Seriously, what happened to a nickel?
Ironically, I threw the audiobook (now seeming like evidence in a crime) into the returns bin on my way in that day, and after a bit of digging, the attendant was able to find the item and officially check it back into the system, removing the fine…but not altogether. There was still a $9.00 fine left on the account because not only does the Algonquin library charge you the value of the item, they also turn you over to a collection agency and charge you a “collections” fee, which strikes me a bit self-righteous because who is going to take a collection agency coming after you for outstanding library fines seriously? It sounds like a joke.
I guess the days of “get it next time” have gone the same way as SHHH signs.
