Will Unwound

Today Library Journal announced the 2012 winner of the Library Paralibrarian of the Year award: Linda Dahlquist.

When L.J. started this award several years ago, I was pleasantly surprised because it was the first time that I knew of a major library entity recognizing the importance of a non-professional library worker.

Anyone who has ever directed a library knows how important the “non-professionals” are.  A sour circulation clerk can cause all kinds of public relations grief.  So you quickly put your library school arrogance away and realize that a friendly, personable, and competent circulation clerk is just as important to your own success as an administrator as a friendly, personable, competent “professional” reference librarian. Likewise, an unreliable, alcoholic janitor can create havoc in the maintenance of your library building.  So you quickly put your  white collar bias aside and realize that a dependable, sober, and skilled janitor is every bit as important to your longevity as a director as a sober, skilled, and dependable cataloger.

I understand the clerical, tradesman, professional, tech, and administrative subdivisions within the library work force.  Each type of worker has a job to do and as an administrator you understand that one type of worker is not inherently more important than the other.  Yes, each type has a different training and experience background and each has its own pay grade level based on market forces, but you really can’t say that one type of worker is more important than the other.

But what exactly is a “paraprofessional?”  Are they clerical; clerical/professional; advanced clerical; junior professional or something else altogether?  The term “para” to me has always seemed like a synonym for “sorta.”  So is a “paraprofessional” a “sorta professional?”  If so isn’t that a little ambiguous like “sorta competent” or “sorta knowledgeable” or “sorta educated?”  I’ve known a lot of paraprofessionals who in fact were more professional than a lot of professionals I’ve worked with, but because they were “paras” they didn’t make as much money. Is that what the term “para” means…”cheaper”?

If you read the Paralibrarian of the Year article in Library Journal, you will see that this year’s winner does a very wide variety of tasks.  Most impressively she initiated a highly successful roving reference service: Dalquist says, “I take reference to the people! Some are a bit too intimidated to approach the reference desk, so I hang out by the front entrance to catch them as they come in the door.” 

According to L.J., that’s not all that she does: In addition to her work as a reference assistant alongside five librarians, Dahlquist assists with children’s services. What she likes best, however, is the roving reference work that she instigated. She also develops displays, maintains a Job Search Information Center, serves as the NSBRL meeting room coordinator, is a member of several VCPL committees, and is the NSBRL representative to VCPL’s IT department. Dahlquist also participates in VCPL public strategic planning sessions, which include citizens, librarians, paralibrarians, and county and VCPL administrators.

But it gets even more impressive.  According to L.J.: “Dahlquist created colorful, inventive, and relevant displays to merchandise effectively library resources on sustainability, vegetarianism, health, exercise, and more to citizens. She has also shaped relationships within VCPL and in the community. Programs resulted from a partnership she created with the Humane Society. The library established programs with a local farmer’s market to offer food preparation tutorials.”

I’m tired just thinking of all these accomplishments.  Kudos to L.J. for honoring such a special person.

I only have one question today: Shouldn’t Linda Dahlquist be receiving the Professional Librarian of the Year Award rather than the Paralibrarian of the Year Award?

Yesterday’s post about the best way to prepare for an interview generated a lot of really great tips.  While the comments were insightful and skillfully articulated, there was not a lot of debate or disagreement about the “shoulds” and “should nots” of interviewing until one Unwinder noted that it is very important to send a follow up thank you note to the person or panel members with whom you interviewed.  All well and good until it was mentioned that this note should definitely be handwritten.

That’s when Unwinder B.Y.N. asked the following thought provoking question: I’m curious–several people have mentioned handwritten thank you notes, and I understand the preference for a personal touch; however, might there not be circumstances where an email thank you is just as, if not more, appropriate?

In response to that question: PatP was quick to answer with this comment: I’ve filled dozens and dozens of positions over the years and only once received and e-mail follow-up rather than a handwritten note. It was from someone I already knew within the organization and she was going for an internal promotion. Acceptable? It was better than no response but it didn’t earn her any points. Appropriate? She knew me and knew I was fairly traditional so I don’t think it was appropriate. I did recommend her above other candidates because she was the most qualified so it really didn’t hurt her any. To me the written note shows me that someone knows standard practices and is willing to go to a little more effort to make an impression. I’m sure there are folks out there who would be okay with no follow-up. Others who would be okay with an email. The trick as an interviewee is to tell the difference. But it is probably safest to send a handwritten note.

Then Unwinder Mick raised a very interesting point about people with bad handwriting: I’d be afraid of a written note myself because my handwriting is not all that hot. Once I was at Disneyland and Mickey Mouse was autographing cards for the kids. I looked at the autograph and blurted out, “Mickey Mouse is a woman!”  I was not popular among the parents, but the fact is no man could write like that, ever.

This entire dialog, quite frankly, left me a little speechless.  I had pretty much concluded that we have reached the point where in this day and age the only time you are really called upon to exercise your handwriting skills (or lack thereof) is when you sign your name to a credit card receipt.

In fact in a future post I was going to predict 5 skills that will be obsolete in 5 years.  Penmanship was going to be one of them.  No one writes anything longhand anymore, do they?  Or have I become too much a slave to my shiny new laptop?

Questions of the Day: Do you still write handwritten notes and why or why not?   Is penmanship a lost art?  Do you still have any “write by hand” duties on your library job? Does a handwritten note resonate with more sincerity than an email?  Is it a generational thing?

Finally here was my comment in response to Mick’s slam on male penmanship: Hmmm…just yesterday at the medical lab, I had to sign my name on one of those screen thingies. The desk clerk looked at the signature and said…”You have beautiful handwriting.” I actually hear this often.

Note from Will:  Today I am starting a new feature: “Tavern Talk.”  In my speaking travels everyone tells me how much they enjoy following the various comment threads inside the Unwinders Tavern.  They all agree that the comments are what make this blog unique in Biblioterra.  I agree completely.  You Unwinders are absolutely awesome in articulating insight and humor.    I love you guys! One thread that I was particularly fascinated with was all about the best way to interview for a library job.  The discussion wasn’t just theoretical because the Unwinder in question, Lara, had a real live interview staring her in the face.

What is the best strategy for an interview and does it matter if you are just out of library school and  interviewing for an entry level position or you are in mid career and interviewing for a promotional opportunity?  Does it matter if you are interviewing before a search committee or a single hiring authority?

These questions arise because of this comment from Unwinder Lara a few days ago in response to a post about Power Point Presentions: I’m in total agreement that Power Points are death to most presentations and I avoid them where-ever I can. However, I have an interesting problem. Tomorrow I have an interview for a librarian position and I have to give a presentation. I strongly considered not using power point, until it occurred to me that that might be exactly the thing that they might be testing: my ability to use power point. So should I power point? Or not?

It seems to me that there are two basic strategies one could follow: play it safe or go for broke.

The first was nicely articulated by Unwinder  Ken in his follow up comment:  Go for it [the Power Point]! And, I’d use some of the great comments that have been posted…ie., keep what’s on them short and to the point, use bulleted items – your main points/ideas, charts are great. Screen shots of websites are effective. Avoid the cute kittens, and most of all, avoid Prezi. Use an air mouse – don’t be tied to the keyboard.

My response was to advocate the go for broke strategy: Lara, I would really think long and hard about this. If you think a power point is expected and will help you get the job then as Ken says read today’s comments and do an effective powerpoint. On the other hand, if you think they are looking for an original thinker, then get creative…finger puppets, felt boards, even action figures. I hired an assistant city manager because he used action figures to explain the importance of each of the 12 city departments. The thing is most librarians (especially in admin) are down the middle people so beware, this could backfire, but if there are a zillion other applicants, it might be worth the gamble.

Then Unwinder Cristy gave some very savvy practical advice to Lara: Ask who you should speak to about A/V arrangements. If they are surprised you asked, they’re not expecting a Power Point or any other A/V presentation.

 Lara’s decision was to play if safe and keep the Power Point simple: Just thought I’d come back and let you all know how it went. Will, I considered an alternative to powerpoint, not action figures mind you, but an online game that the interviewers could play. But I decided to go with a powerpoint in the end. In South African libraries powerpoint is very advanced. (Cristy, I did ask about what equipment there would be, which told me that they were expecting a powerpoint.)I made the presentations as simple as I possibly could. Black text on white background – the only colour I had was in a URL. I had to present on two topics. The one was four slides long, and the other six – and that’s including a title slide in both.I think that they were impressed about how short and simple they were. It proved that I can use the technology, which apparently not everyone can. Mission accomplished. Drinks on me if I get the job 

Curiosity killed the cat.

I never should have picked this book up.

“Will, do not pick this book,” I said to myself.

I couldn’t help myself. I have no self control. I picked it up.  I read it. I regretted it.

I’m a sucker for Tudor England as you can see from my latest Booklist column: Those Wacky Tudors.  I am an even bigger sucker for books about Shakespeare.  Most books about Shakespeare are fiction masquerading as fact.  There are about 16 solid historically verifiable facts about Shakespeare.  The truth is we hardly know anything about Shakespeare.  In fact a good number of scholars do not even believe that Shakespeare was Shakespeare.  All kinds of theories abound.  Take your pick: Sir Francis Bacon, Edward DeVere, Christopher Marlowe, or the Earl of Southhampton.

So…who was Shakespeare?  Now there is a good mystery.

Unfortunately, it’s not a mystery that is solved in this book.  The Shakespeare in this book is a superficial alcoholic wimp who is completely incapable of writing the elevated poetry of the world’s greatest tragedies, comedies, and histories.  Shakespeare may not be the murder victim in this book but he certainly is the victim of character assasination.

This is what always happens when authors who exceed their cleverness quotient try to create stories around geniuses.  They are posers and parasites to be sure, but one wouldn’t mind so much if they were skillful posers and parasites.  However they never are.  If they were skillful they would be creating their own characters.  Invevitably, they turn the geniuses into cartoon characters, and so we get the depressing narrative of a wimpy, drunken Shakespeare.

When I realized that Shakespeare was a main character in this mystery that should have been my first clue to steer clear, but I stubbornly read on.  I suppose my stubborness was born of pride and wonder – pride that I really did have the plot figured out from page one (let’s see… a mystery with the title of A Mystery of Errors couldn’t possibly follow the plot of the play, A Comedy of Errors, could it?) and wonder as in I wonder how bad a mystery can be?

I was right on both counts: 1) yes…the book was about a pair of misplaced twins who wreck all kinds of familial havoc, and 2) yes…this book was the worst mystery I have read to date.

All of which raises a serious readers advisory issue:  do we really want to know what a library patron is interested in when recommending a mystery or any other piece of fiction?  Although Shakespeare represents one of my top five literary interests, it is probably in my best interest to avoid all pieces of parasitic literature that suck the life out of him as a fictional character.

A Mystery of Errors rates 0 stars….but I have no one to blame but myself.

Isn’t it depressing when you muck up the readers advisory process for youself?

My new Will’s World column for American Libraries magazine is now online.  For the purposes of today’s session of the Unwinder’s Tavern you need to quickly peruse it by clicking on The Coolness Factor.

The game that we will be playing in the Tavern today is called “Obsolescence.”

The rules are easy to understand: you simply fill in the blanks (my answers are in bold):

1.  What obsolete technologies do you still actively use? Fountain pens because they are elegant and give me the illusion that my writing is more elegant than it really is.  Also my manual 1940s Smith Corona typewriter.  It’s perfect for letting off steam while banging out angry letters to the idiots in Congress.

2.  What obsolete technologies that have vanished entirely do you miss the most? Phone booths because they are a simple statement of how privacy was valued in days of olde.

3.  What obsolete technology are you most happy to have gone, gone, gone? The slide rule.  Duh, I just didn’t get it.

4.  What obsolete library tool(s) do you most miss?  The card catalog.  I loved how you could tell the age of a book by just looking at the print on the card (handwriting, manual typewriter, selectric, commercial, computer, etc).  Also I liked how you could take a drawer into the stacks.  Plus I liked the smudge factor.  The cards with the deepest smudges were the best books. Also I miss the electric erasers we used to correct mistakes on catalog cards…what a feeling of power.

5.  What obsolete library tool do you miss least? The dreaded ditto machine.  Ink, ink…everywhere…and they didn’t give you a clothing allowance.

Now it’s your turn to play the game “Obsolescence.”  With the rapid rate of obsolescence no one is too young to play.  Remember the Palm Pilot?

In yesterday’s post I suggested that when it comes to funerals that pastors, ministers, rabbis, imans, zen masters, priests, witches, warlocks, and sorcerers should toe the line of an 11th commandment: Thou shalt not use power points.  The discussion in the Unwinders Tavern took an unexpected turn: are funerals for the dead or for the living?  It’s a valid and fascinating question but it doesn’t really speak to the evil of power points.

So I have come back to day with my list of reasons why Power Point Presentations should be banned from all library conferences (and funerals):

• The medium is not the message.  The message is the message.
• Power points make boring presentations even more boring.
• Power points make lively presentations boring.
• Power point presentations scream to the audience: “MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH A SCREEN, NOT WITH THE PERSON PRESENTING!” So the audience ends up looking at screens – their ithingies.
• Power points kill audience participation.
• Power point presentations insult the audience’s intelligence:  ”You mean I have to spell it out for you in writing?  You can’t listen, think and process? Duh”
• Power point presenters often face their power point presentations instead of their audiences.
• When Power point presenters sit down to fiddle with their power points, they often hide themselves behind the lid of their laptops.
• It is insulting to the intelligence of the audience to show cloud covered mountain tops when talking about the importance of reaching yearly goals and objectives.
• Power point presenters often darken the room so that their screens can be seen more clearly.  This induces sleep.
• Power points require multi-tasking, which we men are incapable of.
• Presenters who read their power points verbatim should be tried and convicted for cruelty to their audiences.
• Presenters who read their power points verbatim and then give out photocopies of their power points should be banned from speaking at library conferences for at least 5 years.
• Presenters who put up slides that do not jibe with the presentation (such as cartoons) ought to just use a canned laugh track.
• How about the dreaded term “technical difficulties?” Don’t you love to be in an audience in a darkened room when the presenter spends 20 minutes with the local tech guy to try to boot up a malfunctioning power point?  If you’re unlucky they will get it up and running.  If you’re lucky it won’t work and you get to watch the presenter crash and burn after trying to fly solo.
• Is it cruelty to animals to use cuddly pictures of puppies and kitties in a power point to illustrate certain basic personnel concepts such as teamwork, friendly service, and the tough love of progressive discipline?

Your turn.

By the way, my 2012 speaking schedule is pretty busy but I still do have some open dates if you are interested in a presentation that does not use power point.  Click on How to hire Will for the details.

Here is my annual Ash Wednesday post:

Today is Ash Wednesday.  Next to Good Friday it is the most somber day on the Roman Catholic calendar.  Those words “Remember man that thou art dust and until dust thou shalt return” were burned into my mind and soul at a very early age.  Even more indelible in my memory were the ashes that the priest rubbed on to my forehead in the sign of the cross.

Each year when I go to church to get my Ash Wednesday ashes I think “I’ve escaped the Grim Reaper one more time.”  But the pallor of Ash Wednesday doesn’t end with a somber chant and the rubbing of ashes.  Actually the worst part of the day is going to work with a big black cross on your forehead.  If you work in a public library, like I did, this always leads to a million questions from patrons and staff alike.  “Do you know you have a smudge on your face, Will?”  “Will, you been playing in the dirt again?” “Will, you’re scaring the little children.”

I suppose that’s a big part of the wearing of the ashes…to make people think about their own mortality.  To all these random comments I would have to say “Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent and, oh yeah, just because you’re not wearing ashes doesn’t mean you’re not going to die.”  Talk about lifting staff morale. This was just hilarious for all involved…right up there with a train wreck for sheer entertainment value.

But it’s good for people to think about death once in a while.  Most people my age have made the first step…the last will and testament.  The second step is tougher.  This is where you pre-pay for your funeral costs.  This means you call the shots and pay the piper.  Don’t leave it to your survivors.  Undertakers prey on survivors who are usually too sad, too guilty, or too inebriated to make sound choices.  Leaving basic decisions about embalming, coffins, grave plots, and cremation to the survivors can lead to family fights just when the family should be bonding together for comfort and healing. Also you don’t want to stick your survivors with the bill, do you?  So have I pre-paid all my death costs?  The answer is no.  What happens if the undertaker I pre-pay dies or his business goes under?  Funeral directors don’t live forever do they?  Funeral parlors go bankrupt don’t they?  I’m going to wait awhile until the economy firms up, and then I’m going to choose a young undertaker.

One thing I am in the process of doing, however, is step 3: writing out my funeral instructions.  Actually, my wife beat me to it.  Her instructions are simple: a low Mass with no eulogy, no personal testimonies, no music, no pictorial displays, no flower children, no flowers,  no greeting book, no “hi my name is” stickers, and above all no power points.  She will pop out of her coffin and chew us all out if there is a power point.

Why no power point?  Here’s why:  several years ago we went to the funeral of a dear friend.  The Mass was solemn and sacred.  The sanctity of life everlasting was the liturgical theme.  So far so good.  Mass ended and the power point began.  I’m not kidding you in the power point Doug the Deceased became the “Man for all Seasons…Hunting Seasons.”  On the big screen at the front of the church was a gallery of photos of Doug the Deceased in an orange hunting jacket killing a diverse array of mammals, birds, reptiles and fish.

So much for the sanctity of life everlasting.  Go in peace, Doug.

1964 was a big year for sports.  The Cardinals beat the Yankees in the World Series, the Boston Celtics continued their reign as basketball’s best, and in football the Cleveland Browns ruled the NFL and the Buffalo Bills ruled the AFL (Super Bowl One was still 2 years away).

I was a 15 year old freshman in high school in 1964 and my life revolved around the seasons of sport.  I always had a ball in my hand….small and round in the summer, big and round in the winter, and oblong in between.

For me Thursday meant one thing: an hour and a half of pure reading pleasure. That was the day when the weekly edition of Sports Illustrated magazine reached my mailbox.  I would get home after practice, and there it would be waiting for me on the dining room table with the rest of the day’s mail.  Ironically, it was not the photography that drew me to Sports Illustrated; it was the writing.  If there are three better sportswriters than Dan Jenkins, Tex Maule, and Frank Deford, I don’t know who they are.  They didn’t just tell me that the Celtics were the best (that’s what newspapers were for), they told me why.

But then one grim, wintry day in February of 1964 a woman in a very demure two piece bathing suit (you really couldn’t call it a bikini) graced the cover of Sports Illustrated.  No, it couldn’t be.  This had to be my sister’s copy of Vogue.

And so with those humble and modest beginnings began the long and continuing saga of the famous Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition.  I can’t say that I was particularly happy about this innovation.  Yes, the models inside the magazine were pretty if not alluring, but they took up six pages that otherwise could have been devoted to the top notch sports writing that I so looked forward to each week.

With each passing year, the bathing suits became skimpier, the models curvier, and the beach backdrops more exotic.  Sports Illustrated had created an enduring rite of winter…a new sports media event to fill up that dead period in the middle of February between the Super Bowl and the opening of major league baseball spring training camps.

By 1970, the year I entered the library profession, the swimsuit edition had become a major headache for public and school librarians.  ”What do we do with the Swimsuit edition?” was a question that was thoroughly discussed at monthly February staff meetings in libraries from Maine to Alaska.

The problem was quite serious.  A rare alliance of concerned Christians and radical feminists (the early 70s was when the “women’s liberation” movement got its start) expressed its strong opposition to the edition.  The concerned Christians were worried about the effect of the magazine on boys (dirty thoughts) and the women’s libbers were worried about its effect on girls (sex objects).

How did libraries respond?  In a variety of ways: a) put it out on the rack and allow it to be stolen (which it always was within 30 minutes!), b) put it behind the desk and require a parent’s note (the old “for sex see librarian” approach),  and c) simply pretend it got lost in the mail.  I remember working in one library where the matter went to the library board for consideration and the board president actually pulled out a magnifying glass to determine the veracity of the charge that one of Cheryl Tiegs’ nipples could be seen through her fishnet bathing suit.

Today I don’t hear so much criticism or concern about the swimsuit edition.  In our pornography filled world I suppose it seems rather tame, although this year’s cover sports a young woman whose “swimsuit” seems to consist of two pieces of dental floss and three postage stamps.

While librarians may no longer have to deal with the censorship issues that we did in the 70s, I was interested to note in a scan of the internet, that the swimsuit edition still does carry quite a bit of controversy.  The issue: is the cover girl too zaftig?

I’ll let you make the call.  Here’s the link: cover girl Kate.

I suppose it is the nature of blogging in a crowded field of library bloggers that one way to get attention is to declare war on some one or some entity.

That seems to be the case at least with the so-called library/publisher ebook war.

As with most wars the first line of attack is to head for the moral high ground, express your ideals (altruistic service to the public), demonize your opponent’s motives (GREED!!!), and react with righteous indignation when your opponent shrugs his shoulder, shakes his head, laughs up his sleeve, and simply walks away from the battlefield. The indignation becomes even shriller when the enemy completely ignores your pleas, your petitions, your threats, and your sense of moral superiority.

Yes, the publishers are in the fight of their lives, but their war is not with libraries; their war is with the way things are done in the digital age.  As Unwinder Mick so aptly puts it: “The digital revolution takes no prisoners.”  The Occupy Movement has, in its own endearingly incoherent way, tried to get across the message that capitalism is cruel to the poor, the unemployed, and the disenfranchised “little” guy.  But capitalism is also cruel to the big guys.  American economic history is littered with the carcasses of corporate giants who were unable to adapt to change.  As Mick points out…Kodak is the latest behemoth to fall.

Which brings us back to the book publishing industry.  If there ever was an industry that was characterized by the “We’ve always done it this way!” ethos, it would be publishing.  To understand this you have to reflect back on the history of publishing.  Yes, it has evolved recently into something very corporate, but as late as the mid 1970s the major publishers were basically mom and pop family run businesses.  Indeed at that time the great publishers were referred to as “houses”  as in “Our publishing house specializes in high end works of literary and artistic significance.”

The major players in the book publishing houses did not come from the bean counting, production, or marketing rooms of the house but from the literary kitchen…the place where magical creations were cooked up.  The great tradition of the American book trade evokes images of  legendary editor Maxwell Perkins working with Hemingway and Fitzgerald to create literary masterpieces or an obscure young editor named Judith Jones championing the work of an obscure cookbook author named Julia Child when everyone else had rejected her work as too complex and foreign. These were the days when we had a strong literary culture.  Independent bookstores abounded, libraries were in their heyday, and glue and paper was gold.

Now here we are a half a century later and the book trade is waking up to the fact that it has come late…very late…to the digital revolution.  The mom and pop publishing houses have all been razed and in there place stand the steel and glass structures of the so called BIG SIX.  The literary people have given way to the bean counters and the technogeeks.  Books are no longer “works.”  They are content commodities.

In a word, big publishing is frantic and desperate.  Their walk-in retail outlets are dying. Some of their authors are beginning to self publish; others are fleeing to Hollywood. Most upsetting, however, is that they no longer really understand what a book is or what a reader really wants.

Right now relating to libraries is the least of their worries. Pity the poor publisher.  He feels a lot like we do.

Note from Will:  On a regular basis I get emails from librarians who want to drink deeply of the collective wisdom found in our Unwinders Tavern.  If you have an issue that is bugging you feel free to send me an email at wmanley7@att.net and I will run it in this blog so that our Unwinders can comment on it.  Feel free to change identifiable details so as to protect your identity. I received this email last month.  Please give your best advice to anonymous.

Hi Will,

Just writing to thank you for your last Manley Arts piece about meeting librarians’ needs. Particularly the part about librarians not having taken a vow of poverty. I wasn’t going to rant but you did say you have a lot of free time… I am about to leave the field because the pay is so much lower than the modest ALA-recommended minimum my alma mater touted as de rigeur when I was looking into grad school. The professional satisfaction promised as a trade-off is not happening, either.

The other payoff missing from public librarians’ lives is the professional dignity I was expecting when I became a librarian several years ago. I thought being a librarian would be great, given my aptitude for technology and the written word combined with my social altruism. Whoops. Most of the young librarians I know regret their choice. The most ambitious of us are the most miserable because we know that we could, as they say in the dating game, “do better.” I can make databases, but here I am un-jamming the photocopier and repeating program dates and times for callers who don’t have a pen handy. (It’s not that I need to pay my dues and work up the ladder: this is the highest position under Director.) Patrons are disrespectful, clerks talk to us like we’re pages, and managers struggle to keep a straight face when we suggest salaries should reflect value delivered rather than time served. There is a stark difference in the types of personalities and demographics the field attracts today vs. the era of my coworkers’ entrance to the field. Our colleagues make us pariahs for so rudely writing them an e-mail when they are in the building. They have worked here forever and half of them can barely use computers, forget that PCs have been widely accessible for over fifteen years. We are smart, enterprising, eager professionals. Projects fail miserably because none of my dear elders know how to conduct a productive meeting or start and complete a project. Our ideas are met with “that’s very neat but this is how we’ve always done it” and our attempts at competitive salaries are met with “well you knew going into this you wouldn’t be making a fortune.”

What’s broken? Is it a clash of power structures? I theorize that in a women-run organization like a “traditional public library” the structure is like a family, where authority comes from physical age instead of from your job title which you earned with your ability, like how us Gen X-ers came up. Is it that the civil service system has ruined the money-for-work model, leaving us hard workers feeling cheated? I felt a moment of clarity the day I realized “this doesn’t have to be my problem.” Much as I love social programs, I am industrious and don’t need the system to provide for me.

As you say, basic needs must be met. After looking these last four years for one of these elusive “real-pay” jobs I have given up on librarianship as a career and switched directions to focus on a consulting business centered around journalism and web design. Sometime before my biological clock stops ticking I will type up that resignation letter and say: I cannot raise a family and pay my student loans for $15 an hour. You will have to find another “professional” librarian.

For a long time I was worried it was me: I interview poorly? I don’t know the right people? Wouldn’t you know, less than a year into Project: New Career and I already have a couple freelance clients. Stranger still, none of them have balked over money or yelled at me because they don’t know how to make a photocopy. Perhaps the libraries here will miss my abilities, but life is too short to stay on this train.

I imagine you field lots of letters like this so I won’t ramble any more. I’ll just say thank you again and maybe at least the donut thing will catch on.

Best,

Anonymous