My office phone is not your fucking fax machine. It's not even my fucking fax machine. Go call someone who's already out of town and won't care.
Trust me, you do not need lots and lots of boring reading material for the four-day weekend. You may want it, but you don't need it. What you need is to go home, hug your kids, pet your dog, and be thankful for your prestigious job and your eminently competent interlibrary loan specialist.
Live a little,
Dear Work Ethic,
Where did you go?