Librarians help people. It's our job. Usually, we're quite happy to help out. You ask questions; we answer. You can't find a book; we track it down. You greet us with a smile and a pile of books to check out; we scan your card and offer you a "have a nice day."
What we don't do is cater to your every whim. I wish some patrons could understand that.
There is one breed of patron that assumes we are there for them. Just them. No one else. More than once I've felt like a cupcake being fought over by a pack of fifth graders. Once, a person I helped argued that I could not help the second patron because she had me first - even though we had completed our transaction. I was frightened that she was going to scent mark me to scare the other patrons away.
Along with these patrons are the patrons who think you can magically get anything. And I mean anything. That copy of the Gutenberg Bible. Totally available for circulation. You swear it. It says so right here in Google books. While I'm glad you recognize my awesome skillz there are, believe it or not, some things librarians cannot offer. A copy of a rare, history-making bible for example.
What I dislike the most is the patrons with absolutely no boundaries or sense of propriety. There is just something about being trapped behind a desk that causes certain members of the public to assume, "Oh look, I can come onto you creepily and try to pet your hair." More than once I've had to delicately say "No touchies!"
I'm sure other service oriented professions experience the same sort of problems. (Starbucks baristas, I feel for you.) Librarians, however, have evolved to handle these kinds of situations. Have you ever wondered why we keep sharpened pencils in our hair buns? It's so we can stab at you when we feel threatened. Don't corner the wild librarians, it makes them cranky.
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