Return Slot, Permanently Occupied

The return hatch has finally received the machinery built to serve it. Now neither works. The trolley points its handle at you while the lamp braces the whole bad decision and the bin jams halfway through its own mouth. That plywood at shin height is not a barrier with manners. Every strap, clamp and filthy bolt shows exactly where the force went. The library can keep its quiet. This bit has lodged a complaint.