My work insurance wanted a medical evaluation form filled out in order that I qualify for long-term disability. No problem, I gave to my doctor on Thursday. On Monday, the floor clerk said it was ready but I had to pay the processing fee in the Gingras part of the Institute. Okay, where in the Gingras? Somewhere in the basement. He didn’t seem to know anything useful, like room number. He told me to ask the receptionist at the Gingras main entrance.
So, wallet in my backpack, I rolled over to the Gingras where the receptionist proved to be in ignorance of the location despite phoning someone else. I then prowled the basement in search of the fabled office. I found one place which gave me blank stares, then found the “Direction Générale” office. There, someone was able to guide uncertainly to an unremarkable door with a sign listing the fees for filling in forms. The first person wasn’t exactly where my form was, but a second woman wearing a hijab knew all about it.
I pulled out my credit card to pay only to be informed that it was cash or check only. The hijab wearing woman began to explain where a cash machine was, before I produced the requisite number of twenties from my wallet. She then wrote a receipt for me.
Coming back, I proved my take on information distribution part of librarianship, by going to the receptionist and the floor clerk and letting them know what the room number was! Unlike the Institute, my take on information distribution is that information should be pushed.
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