Wow, I feel so official! I thought to myself.
What would it be like, being tagged? I'd never been tagged in the library before. The librarians all had name tags, but never the pages.
Goodbye, anonymous existence. I stuck the magnet-held tag to my shrug (or, basically, a short sleeved sweater, for those who do not know what a shrug is).
I figured I would instantly get along with my new tag. Why wouldn't I?
As it turns out, the tag had other ideas.
It behaved for the first few minutes. Then as I reached to put some books to the top shelf, it decided it would play hide and seek in my armpit. After that it decided it would be fun to poke me on numerous occasions.
Enough with this! I thought to myself, and inched my tag closer to the edge of my shrug. It helped, for a little while, until the tag came up with a counter move to my little solution. I picked up a big stack of books and it jumped off of my clothes and sprawled out on the floor.
You aren't getting away that easy, tag! After putting away the stack of books, I picked the tag back up from the floor. What am I to do with you, little tag? I wondered, trying it out in different locations.
Putting it at the bottom of my shirt or on my jeans would not be acceptable, I was pretty sure. It didn't want to ride on my shrug, for sure. Finally, I decided to try pinning it on the upper left-hand portion of my shirt. Low enough that my hair wouldn't cover it, high enough to look professional, and on a stable enough piece of clothing that it wouldn't try hiding or poking me in the armpits again. Perfect.
Perhaps the tag was just uncomfortable. We got along well after it's little move. I am happy, the tag is happy, and we both can do our jobs as we should. At last, we came to an agreement.
I think we will get along.
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