Let's say I'm checking out books to a Slider, typically a disgruntled patron. I have my hand out reaching for their ID to scan, but this gesture goes ignored by The Sliders. The Sliders fling their IDs across the counter like they're playing air hockey, with such force that the cards fly off onto the floor behind the circulation desk. The Sliders offer no apologies.
- Circ. Ass.
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