The Story: The little bus pictured above had seen better days. The steering wheel was broken, there were other moving parts that had long ago fallen off, paint was faded in many places, things that shouldn't move did, things that should move didn't...in short, it was a wreck. It took a long time to find something to replace it, because the company that made it didn't make anything even remotely resembling it anymore, and pretty much every other toy vehicle was either cheap plastic or some version of a powerwheels car. Finally, I find the wooden firetruck pictured below.
It's cute, and new, and roughly the same size and does most of the same stuff. Sure, it's a little smaller and lighter, but there really isn't anything else out there exactly like the bus. The plan was to just switch them when nobody was around, because as I had learned from the raccoon saga, children and/or parents don't like to see change in the library playscape. There was a miscommunication when I talked to the maintenance person whose job it was to put this thing together and put it in the play area. He thought we were just adding one, and put it out during the daytime with families around. Well, shit. Now I had to explain to him that there really wasn't room in the play area for two vehicles, and the whole reason for getting the firetruck was to get rid of the bus. And so, he gets rid of the bus while people are around, which is miscommunication #2. One of the parents starts grilling me about why we're getting rid of the bus, clearly ignoring anything I say about how broken it is. Then he asks what we're doing with it, which is not an answer he wants to hear. Finally, I tell him that if he likes it so much he can have it, because we're just putting it in the dumpster anyway. He starts asking again if we can't donate it anywhere, and I tell him that other places don't want our broken toys any more than we do. Again, I offer him the bus. He declines again, but spends the next 20 minutes talking very loudly to anyone in the children's room who will listen about what a great travesty it is, what a great loss, to get rid of one stupid, broken toy.
He finally leaves, and the custodian brings the bus out to the dumpster with my help (it's awkward, but not heavy). Before he can put it in, two contractors who are there working on the lights or something outside the building see us walking by and one of them asks, "Are you getting rid of that?" and when I answer that we are, and he can have it if he wants, he's just as baffled as the dad from earlier. We leave it next to the dumpster and tell him he's got until the library closes to pick it up and take it home if he wants it, because then it has to get tossed. Lo and behold, it's still sitting there when we open the next morning, and I make sure that the bus gets thrown out.
The Lesson: Like with the raccoon, never change the library environment or get rid of things when there are witnesses. While nobody will actually claim responsibility or ownership of your castoffs, there will be plenty of people who will be appalled that you're throwing away something that is broken and no longer useful.
The Resources: It would be a little cheeky, but one could recommend some good books about decluttering your life to some of the patrons who insist that everything has value. Also, the post about the raccoon has some good books on accepting the loss of toys for children. Alternately, this one is pretty much just about experience. Also, if you're curious about the firetruck, here's where I got it.
