I Just Wanna Be A Rockstar!

Air Band stopped by the library yesterday.

Saw him twice, actually.

At first he did his usual thing where he walked up to the mirror across from the stacks, turned up his walkman, and started playing air guitar to what sounded like Poison (although I could be mistaken - whoever it was it sounded like a shitty band).

This is what Air Band does whenever he comes in. Stands in front of the mirror, flapping around like an idiot, pretending to play guitar even though it is painfully obvious he has never played one before in his life.

We suspect he likes the attention ... playing air guitar in a public library near the self-help books is the sort of thing that will generate more than a few weird stares.

(Although at least he's in the right section of the stacks.)

Air Band is in his mid-40s, by the way. Mmm-hmm.

The second time I saw him, I was driving home and he was sitting on his bike. Right in the middle of the lane. Not peddling, just sitting there, kickstand down, right out on the road.

And he was still playing air guitar.

Yes indeed. A grown man stopped his bicycle in the middle of the road, just to play air guitar.

So I did what any other decent fellow would do in that situation. I gave him the finger and drove around him, making sure my mirror clipped him as I went by. Figured that would send him a warning, maybe he'd snap out of it and realize that coming to a dead stop, in the middle of traffic, on a very busy two-lane street, was not the brightest of ideas.

Nope. He waved. And smiled.

I clipped the hair-band-emulating bastard on purpose, and he waved and smiled ... WAVED AND SMILED ... all the while continuing to play air guitar!

Although I guess it sort of makes sense that he did. After all, the guy is a fan of Poison.

As Easy As 1-2-8 !!!

How it is that people who cannot count are able to make it through life absolutely, utterly, astounds me.

Take the printer, for example. Ten cents a page. That should be easy, right? One page is 10c. Two pages are 20c. And on and on.

Well apparently, it isn't as simple as it first seems.

Yesterday, a 20-something lady with a huge pile of change (don't know her name so I'll call her "Chickie Change") decided to use the printer. Great, I thought, she's got a huge pile of change on her, she'll be fine.

Oh, how wrong I was.

A few seconds into the printing parade, Chickie Change comes up to the desk, with a rather ornery expression on her face. Uh-oh.

CC: "Your printer won't print my pages."

G: "Hmmm. Is it not printing the page clearly, or not printing anything at all?"

CC: "I told you already! It won't print my pages!"

At this point, I figured it was safe to assume she meant option # 2. Figuring there was perhaps a paper jam, I went over to the copier to take a look.

G: "Everything seems to be in working order. Did you put your money in the machine?"

CC: "Yes I did! I'm not stupid, you know!"

G [to himself]: What a bitch!

G [out loud]: "Okay, then let's try it again. Maybe there was just a glitch."

Of course, that was an out-and-out lie; I already knew what the problem was. I checked the coin machine, and indeed, there was money in it. I pushed print, and sure enough, nothing happened. Next step, check the print queue.

G: "It says here that you are printing three pages. Is that correct?"

CC [annoyingly tapping her foot]: "Ummm ... yeah."

G: "You only put twenty cents in the machine."

CC: "Your point ... ?"

G [very slowly]: "Three pages ... ten cents each ... ... ... "

CC [looking confused]: " ... ... ... "

G: "... thirty cents."

CC: "Oh. I knew that."

I did my best, I really did, but I'm pretty sure a smirk managed to sneak through my best defenses. Serves her right, to feel like an idiot. Although I'm pretty sure it's a safe guess that she's quite used to that, already.

Needless to say, Chickie Change dropped in an extra dime, and sure enough, everything printed perfectly. It's a rare day that I see someone beat as hasty an exit as she did, without even saying so much as "thanks for the help."

But that's okay. I made sure to holler "you're welcome" toward the back of her head as she was leaving. I'm nothing if not polite.

Overheard

WhiteTrash #1: "Can you get the wi-fi at your place?"

WhiteTrash #2: "No, I have to come here to use the email. Which sucks 'cuz they block ev'rythin' good."

WhiteTrash #1: "I know. I wanna get on the email, but I can't do it here 'cuz I heard they track 'n sh*t so they can read what you write."

WhiteTrash#2: "Oh sh*t. You sure?"

WhiteTrash#1: "Dude, they're a public library, so they're govment. Gov-ment. They've prob'ly read ev'ry email you ever writt'n."

I love idiots. They make my day, every time. If it weren't for people like these, this job would really suck the life out of me.

Morale Boost

Some kid was jerking off in the computer room again. This is not entirely unusual ... that room seems to attract a lot of teens who can't control themselves at the first sight of an exposed breast.

I wonder what Freud would have to say about that?

But I digress.

The kid was so scared, when I caught him, that he got up to bolt out of there without bothering to zip, or button, up.

The result? He tripped and fell over his own pantlegs.

Needless to say, it lifted my spirits for the rest of the day. There's just something about seeing idiots fall down that warms one's soul.

It's the simple things that get us through life, honestly.

The only downside is my cellphone doesn't shoot video - and this was definitely one for the archives. The kid did a full forward flip, landed on his nose, then followed it up with a second stumble while trying to get up because his pants were still down around his ankles. And when he finally did manage to get up, he hightailed it out of there like Olympic sprinter on a fresh batch of 'roids.

(I think he might have even set a new record for the 100-yard dash along the way.)

Best. Mood-lifter. Ever.

Closing Time

Stormy days usually call for public service closure, in the winter. Seems par for the course.

Why stay open if no patrons will be coming to the library in the bad weather? That's the usual line of reasoning they give the public, and it is completely understandable.

The truth is, the city doesn't want to face liability issues resulting from employees getting into accidents on their way home, because the building didn't close during the inclement weather, thus putting all employees at unnecessary risk. At least, that's the line of reasoning the employees are given. This, too, is completely understandable.

Sadly, this is where an unfortunate hilarity ensues.

[Library] has closed early several times this winter, during some rather severe storms.

Correction: [Library] has closed early several times this winter, during the last hour of some rather severe storms.

Oops.

It's a rather odd trend. It seems we are always three hours into a storm before closing early for the aforementioned safety reasons. Three hours!!! By that point, it can't get any less safe than it already is.

And every time - you can bet your paycheque on this, seriously - the storm ends within an hour of our closure.

Now, what part of that makes any sense whatsoever? Do the people who make these decisions not listen to the weather forecast?

As Dilbert says, there are stupid decisions and then there are management decisions. Early closures are quite clearly management decisions.

Hey, the weather forecasts have all been right on the mark, in regard to any of the storms that have forced us to close this year. If the forecast says the storm is going to last all afternoon and into the evening, perhaps closing before the evening would be a better bet ... you know, so we can still see where we're going on our drive home.

Because there is nothing worse than a crawling hour's drive home through a terrible storm after an early closure, only to have the storm end pretty much right after you get there. It's a head-smacker if there ever was one.

Too bad no one has the stones to smack the managers' heads, every now and then. Maybe then we'd actually get home while it was still somewhat safe to drive, thus adding a level of sensibility to the reasoning used for the closure in the first place.

Just a thought ...

More Committee BS

"Are we a committee? Or is this just one person running the show?"

That's a paraphrase of a question raised at my last committee meeting. The question, which I was expecting, was raised immediately after I detailed to the committee, in as P.C. of a manner possible, that a key decision had been made for us by the higher-than-thous, and we would have to sit still and take it.

It was a good question.

How does one answer it, without throwing one side, or the other, under the figurative bus?

Quick answer: You can't. Heave away and hope it's a heavy bus.

The background:

[Committee] has worked steadfastly on planning multiple options for [Project]. All options have been completed, save for some minor tweaking, and are to be soon compared against each other, in the hopes that the best elements of all will be merged into what will become the course of action. Cool.

As the head of the committee, I keep all of these options stored in a location where only members of the committee have access.

[LittleBoss], who also happens to be my supervisor (and thus has access to the files), saw an opportunity to impress [BigBoss]. When [BigBoss] asked how the project was coming along, [LittleBoss] decided a game of show-and-tell was in order, despite the fact that none of these options were official, or complete, or available for anyone outside the committee to view!

So what happened? Take a guess.

[BigBoss] hated them all. [BigBoss] decided to merge the best aspects of all of the options, into one course of action. Sound familiar?

Naturally I freaked when I got wind of this. Remember, few have as much disdain for committee work as I. If these types of decisions are to be made for us, then why have the committee at all? What's the point of it? I have better things to do with my time.

With that in mind, I tore a strip off [LittleBoss], who has kept some distance since. Apparently they could hear me a floor above. Too bad [BigBoss] took the day off.

(As I've noted previously, you can't get fired in public service. Might as well take advantage of that to call out the boss every now and then.)

Back to the future:

In the committee meeting I had a decision to make. What do I tell them? Do I tell them we've been castrated, or do I pretend nothing happened, and bias the voting in favor of [BigBoss]?

I finally agreed with [LittleBoss] that it would be best if the committee did not lose faith in the administrative powers-that-be, and that a little white lie about the decision -- e.g. have our vote but strongly urge the decision that has already been made for us, without letting them know what took place -- would be the best approach to keep everyone happy.

Immediately following that discussion, I walked into my committee meeting and told them what had happened, in full detail.

Sorry, [LittleBoss], but I lost too much respect for your management style today to want to aid you sticking your nose any further up [BigBoss'] ass. You do that well enough on your own, as it is.

Of course, the natural result, from the committee, was The Question.

And I was honest. I have no answer for it. I don't know. All I could tell them was, you've all heard the stories by now of me screaming at [LittleBoss] for 15 minutes straight. I have yet to be disciplined for such an egregious act of insubordination, and you can bet that none is forthcoming.

Because I knew what [LittleBoss] was doing; stepping on the committee's purpose and autonomy in order to impress [BigBoss]. So [LittleBoss] brokered a deal with me to cover her motives. Too bad no deal was made about how long I'd keep my mouth shut.

Like I said, I won't get in any trouble for being honest. But I can guaran-damn-tee you, [LittleBoss] is going to think twice about ever fu**ing with anything I'm in charge of, ever again. This kid don't roll over that easy.

And people wonder why I hate committee work ...

... oy.

Students? Stugatz!!!

So a student from [LocalUniversity] walks in the other day. He approaches the desk, and proceeds to ask if we have any copies of [SomeRandomTextbook]. At which point I proceed to give him my Standard University Student Answer:

"This is a public library. We don't have University textbooks, or any course materials. That's what the bookstore and library on campus are for."

His response?

"Well, you guys suck!"

Clever. This guy's on the path to graduating with distinction, can't you tell?

Here's the best part. The kid is carrying, with him, a new copy of the book that he just bought - get this - at the University bookstore! I suppose he then realized he'd rather have that $120 back for a night or two at the bar, and figured maybe he could borrow and photocopy the book from the public library. You know, because our budget and patron majority dictates that we should carry new editions of every textbook the University uses.

We're a public library. Where then, would the money be for James Patterson, Danielle Steel, and John Grisham?

I explained, kindly (why I don't know), to this kid that because we are a community library as opposed to a higher education facility, it is not our mandate to provide course materials already provided by the University. Not to mention that since our books are free, we already know we would never see those textbooks again.

His response?

"Well, you guys suck!"

The guy couldn't even come up with something new to say. Perhaps he should just give up on that University education before he spends too much on it. Community college might be a better fit.

Students. They're all the same. They can get into University, but they still can't figure out why a public library - a PUBLIC library - wouldn't have freely available in its collection the latest edition of their $120 dollar textbook. It's not like every other student would be lining up for it - or deciding not to return the thing - no, of course not.

Students. Stugatz.**


(** or Stucaatz, depending where you're from).

Mister Pole

Mr. Pole has been seen in the library much more than usual, lately.

Mr. Pole is one of our many homeless patrons. He's very tall, very scruffy, and comes fully equipped with a foul odor which fills a ten-foot radius around his person. He carries a large knapsack of (presumably) clothes with him, along with another bag (also clothes?) which is tied directly to the end of - you guessed it - a pole.

But it's not just any pole. This thing is solid oak, and stands a good 6 feet tall. He threatened to beat me over the head with it when I woke him up in the lounge last week. I wasn't sure which would kill me first - the pole, or the smell?

Luckily, his alternative personality kicked in, and he became very apologetic and left the library. Either that or he took a look at my spindly librarian arms and crapped his pants. Can't be sure which it was, since he smells so bad to begin with.

But you know, carrying all those books around does make a librarian strong. Not to mention pissed-off. You don't want to go round-and-round with a dude -- a DUDE -- who's been burdened with armfuls of New Age self-help guides and romance novels all morning. You DO NOT want to set that time bomb a-ticking.

I saw Mr. Pole again this morning. He was talking to the computer, and then went into the washroom where I presume he carried on a fascinating conversation with the sink. But hey, at least the talking drowned out his usual sounds ... namely, the echoing reverb of him taking a dump.

Who decides to put the refdesk next to the public restrooms, honestly?

But that's another story for another day. Got another pile of Harlequin's to haul back into the stacks. How can people read that crap, anyway? No wonder our patrons are so f**cked up.

Hmm

My coffee has been tampered with, once more. The sanctity of the tin, which holds specialty java from a remote part of the world, has been violated.

That coffee, that delicious, expensive, can't-be-bought-in-the-supermarket coffee is for me, and whomever I choose to share it with.

For me, and whomever I choose to share it with.

That means it is to be consumed by myself, and (upon my own personal approval) BigBoss, DistantRelative, TheCuteOne, and whomever else I happen to need a favor from at the given moment.

But it's not for you. It's not for just any librarian. It's not for lowly staff members lacking any professional designation, and it is most certainly not for the volunteers, who are once again the most likely culprit of this most brazen and gutless act of thievery.

Did you pay for it? Did they? We're not talking a large $7 tin of run-of-the-mill coffee-flavored powder from the local supermarket, or worse, the bulk store.

We're talking whole beans, necessitating a high-quality grinder, imported directly from across the globe. I spend the money because I love my coffee, I want to taste the coffee, rather than hot water with a hint of coffee flavoring.

If you didn't buy it, don't f**cking touch it. It should go without saying. The sign I taped to the tin, which reads "F**cking touch this and f**cking die" should be clear enough, or so you'd think. Apparently, it is not.

These fools thought they'd get away with it. Thought I wouldn't notice a slight drop in the level of coffee beans. But they forgot to clean the grinder. Idiots.

It looks as though I'm going to have to install a lock on the cabinet door. It's a shame to have to go to these lengths to keep my coffee - MY COFFEE - safe from those who are not worthy to bask in its flavorful glory. There is a reason why certain people are volunteers, and staff members, as opposed to being driven to greater achievement.

The excellence of my coffee is reserved for those who have pursued such excellence in their own lives, not for the miserable, frumpy, frizzy-haired, shabbily-dressed staff who settled on the $10 per hour job and a permanent bad mood because they were too lazy to put in the work necessary for a better standing in life. If they settled for that, they can settle for puddle water, also ... or as they call it, Instant.

In the meantime, my coffee, my beautiful, imported, reserved-for-kings, whole bean liquid java orgasm, will be kept safely behind lock and key, only to see the light of day in the presence of those whose standing in life dictates they have earned the privilege of its heavenly aroma.

A Blue Moon Christmas

So this is Christmas!

The library was peaceful today. The problem people ceased to cause problems, if only for today.

It was wonderful. The usual suspects were anything but usual. Must have been the spirit of the season. That or a blue moon.

Here's how good we had it:

The gamers didn't show up today.

The smelly guy apparently wore deodorant.

The homeless people found another building in which to sleep.

Our resident rage-aholic was kindly wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday season.

Our resident beer-swiller was drinking coffee for once (probably mixed, but still).

The narcoleptic didn't fall asleep in the washroom.

FakeTits was wearing a bra.

Even the Overly White Gangsta got into the spirit with a gold Star of David necklace and cross-shaped earrings. (I neglected to explain the paradox to him - I didn't want to ruin his holiday by making him have to think.)

Yeah, all in all a great day. Makes one wish this time of year would last longer than it does.

Alas, next week it will all go back to normal:

The gamers will tie up the computers. The smelly guy will make us all nauseous. The homeless people will sleep in the lounge, driving other customers away, and the rage-aholic will pop off on some random patron for no good reason. The alcoholic will be drinking from a paper bag while browsing the stacks, the narcoleptic will have to be awoken on the can again, FakeTits will get back to showing off her terribly uneven boob job, and the OWG will somehow find another way to lower this town's overall standard of intelligence even further than he already has.

(There's more problem patrons than just these, of course - too many to count - but these are my favorites. Turns out they can be sensible and respectful ... for a day. Who knew?)

So I enjoyed today for what it was worth, knowing full well that such peace and harmony has no chance of carrying forward beyond the rest of this week. I soaked in every minute of the quiet, every minute that went by without a patron issue. Sex in the stacks wouldn't have been better ... well, no, it probably would have, but you get the idea.

Once you've done this gig long enough, days like these become the stuff of urban legend. If you get one, take it for what it is, hold onto it, and enjoy it for all that it is worth.

For another day like this is, at best, an entire year away.

Peace and Happy Holidays to everyone, and remember: you never know what tomorrow's going to bring, so always make sure to get the best of today while the getting's still good.

Tell Me Why ...

... every ILS has to suck?

Seriously. They are horribly designed systems, built low and sold high. Every last one of them.

It's funny; we, the librarians, are the information professionals. We are the specialists. Yet the tools at our disposal are clunky, look awful, boast few convenient or efficient features (the inability cross-check records by address or phone numbers comes to mind), with inner settings which are nearly impossible to modify.

Perhaps the companies that build these things see us bent over the table and are able to recognize a good thing when they see it. Shame on the buyers in our field for being so stupid as to accept a raw deal, and not demand better.

"We've always bought from you, so we'll continue to buy from you, and simply keep our hopes up that you'll come through on your promise to deliver a better product."

You had them at "we'll continue", folks. Now they have your money, and since they're assured it will continue to come in, they have no incentive to produce a better product ... just minimal upgrades to ensure that you - the loyal (re: stupid) customer - remain a sucker.

Demand better. Please. For all of us.

Of course, the buyers aren't the ones who use the ILS, so none of this really matters anyway, does it? They don't catalogue new items. They don't track down misuse, run suspensions, or deal with fines. They don't build catalogue interfaces, or run code to set catalogue options and functionality. Nope. They manage budgets.

You've got to love the fact that the purchasers don't even use the products themselves. Middle management must be one plum gig, throwing money at items whose value you will never actually be able to judge. Sounds like such fun ... so much room to be a complete and utter dick. Where do I sign up?

Lately I've been pushing for [Library] to adopt an OpenSource ILS, but the idea isn't selling. Namely because it's free, and of course we all know Management Logic dictates that the word "free" automatically means it cannot possibly be a decent product.

(Want a fun day at the office? Try teaching Admin about the benefits of OpenSource. Just try to break the "more expensive equals better product" mentality. It's a challenge right up there with completing the Rubix Cube, and sitting through any Pauly Shore movie.)

So where do we go from here? Nowhere, it seems. After all, it's difficult to move when you're bent over the desk taking it up the rear from [Vendor] on a monthly basis.

Public Service: proudly keeping idiots in charge since the dawn of government !

Overheard

These kids today ...

Kid A: This sucks. [Online videogame] doesn't work on these computers!

Kid B: I know. I don't know why they'd block it.

Kid A: What else is there to do?

Kid B: I don't know. There's nothing on TV 'till 7. I wish they didn't block that game.

... I guess the thought of reading a book, or going outside even, is just too much for today's U-13 crowd. Geez, my unemployed friends are more active than these guys.

I'm not that old myself, but when I was 10 (circa 1989), my toys consisted of a couple trucks, some LEGO, some GI Joes, a hockey stick and a few bricks. And if I complained about having nothing to do, I got a swift kick in the ass until I ran outside and found something to do.

You don't need much to be creative, other than a little imagination. GI Joe vs the LEGO men with bricks falling from the sky was seriously fun. Especially after I got a pellet gun that Christmas.

But the post-1995 kids? If the Internet or TV are down, they're at a loss. The screens have robbed them of any imagination, or any drive to create their own fun. They seriously come close to crying when staff tell them there are no computers available. Of course, I'm much more direct with them; I tell them to go get a life.

Kid Response (generally): "You mean a Second Life? I already have an avatar."

G's Response (universally): "Get out. Now."

The way I see it, in lieu of being able to beat these kids the way their daddy should have (but was obviously too much of a sheep himself to do), I'm doing them the next best favor by forcing them out of the building and into the punishing fresh air and sunshine.

Maybe I should hire my unemployed friends to chase these kids down in their cars as I make them leave. The exercise would do them some good, and I know my pals could use a bit of good cheer these days.

Overheard

Oh, the joys of working the desk ...

College Freshman 1: "You coming by this aft?"

College Freshman 2: "Can't. I've got to go get that thing taken care of. Been three days now. Getting a bit uncomfortable, you know?"

College Freshman 1: "Dude I know, I got that last summer."

Dude, I don't want to know.

How I Came To Be + A Bonus Rant

I get asked this all the time:

"G, why did you become a librarian?"

First off, no one becomes anything. You choose to do things. There's no sudden transformation from "human being" to "librarian", although I understand how people might think there is.

Anyway, here's the story:

(a) I was 19 and had no idea what I wanted to do, so I picked an easy media arts major at [University] because it looked like fun.

(b) Finished near the top, but was getting concerned about the rumours that people with media arts degrees don't get jobs.

(c) Worked in the tech sector for a while, then quit to go back to school, after realizing that people with media arts degrees indeed do not get jobs. At least, not of the "pays the loans and has a future" variety.

(d) Picked Library and Information Sciences because it was the only professional degree for which I had an appropriate background. That and I personally knew over half the selection committee at [University]. Never underestimate the importance of networking, at any juncture, at any time. You just never know when it's going to pay off.

(e) Finished near the top, then realized that people with MLIS degrees also do not get jobs because no one wants to pay the going rate for a professional degree.

(f) Did some short-term library contracts, but found that Tech work with a MLIS degree is both bogus and sad.

(g) Got out of the field altogether and into the corporate world, which actually made use of my background in a job that I could have done out of high school. The job was amazing, the company was great, my future growth looked good, but the immediate contract renewal (specifically the $$$) did not. Made a tough call and left for greener pastures. Damned student loans.

(h) Got hired by [Library], in a rare capacity requiring, and paying the going rate for, the MLIS degree, for a job I could have done out of high school.

(i) I have yet to use anything learned in the MLIS program within any librarian capacity, including former library contracts. In other words, the piece of paper opened the door, but has been collecting dust since.

Do I love what I do? Some days, yeah, especially when I get to treat stupid people the way they should be treated: as stupid people. Those days are fun.

But most days, I only like what I do (very big difference) ... namely because there's simply far too much petty BS that goes on around libraries. Way too clique-y for my tastes. And no one is under the gun. No one gets fired. Which means nobody is productive, because there is no substantial - or potential - threat of action against them for sitting on their collective asses.

[I FEEL A BONUS RANT COMING ON ...]

I miss the corporate world, so much, if for no other reason than people are fired on a regular basis for not performing at the rate they are being paid to perform. The figurative gun is always pressed against the back of your skull, and if you don't live up to your hype, you're gone. Productivity is buoyed by fear; it always has been and it always will be.

But in public libraries there is zero productivity, zero efficiency, and zero initiative to develop new services and improve existing standards. Nobody cares, because no one is going to do anything to them if they sit on their hands.

Seriously, I could do lines of coke off my desk, right in front of the Big Boss, and you know what would happen? I'd be put in a six-week rehab program and my job would be waiting for me when I got back. That's complete and utter BS, but that's the way it is when the library does not want to have to explain to its taxpayer patrons why their money is paying the salary (severance) of someone who no longer works there.

In the corporate world, this isn't an issue because shareholders are interested in the productivity of the company, and a firing usually indicates that productivity is about to skyrocket due to (a) the replacement hire and (b) the fear factor among the rest of the employees. Productivity = profit in the private sector; in the public sector it equals progressive service development. In other words, tangible versus intangible changes. Take a guess which of the two the public gives a rip about: the one that pays out, or the one that makes their lives more efficient for the fifteen minutes they're using the service?

If you picked the intangible (service development), smack yourself upside the head for me, will you?

Until libraries start running more as a business, and measuring profit in terms of service efficiency, usage increases, and feedback on new service developments (not to mention firing people), staff lethargy will continue its alarming rate of growth and no progression will occur within the field. And do you know the result of nothing? Irrelevance. In other words, libraries will die, and the field eventually will disappear, all because a bunch of managers didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings by actually doing their jobs and ensuring the highest levels of productivity.

So here I am, liking this field but not certainly not loving it (at least, not all of it), for all those reasons mentioned above. The freedom to be an asshole without reprimand is really the only thing keeping me around - even I admit there are some benefits to the inability to get fired - that, and the knowledge that I'd have a hard time matching the pay anywhere else.

Yes, a part of it does come down to money; we all have bills to pay and I'm no exception to that. However, I am unashamed to admit that I am grossly overpaid for what I do at [Library] ... as are most professional-category librarians out there. But at least some of us care about the future of the profession and keep actively butting our heads against the Great Wall of Indifference. What else are we going to do? Nothing? Hey, the ship may be sinking, but this kid's not going down without a fight.

Because at the end of the day, you've got to either shit or get off the pot. And sitting on your hands all day counting the members of your clique is better suited to filling in the time in the Unemployment line, than it is to a an organization with an active interest in its own long-term growth and viability.

If only the powers-that-be in the public sector understood that, and were willing do something about it to ensure the future relevance of our services. It's a damn shame.

How To Publicly Humiliate Your Co-Workers And Come Out Looking Better For It

Yes, you read that correctly. It can, in fact, be done.

And yes, I do enjoy being an asshole, from time to time, thank you very much. Wouldn't be much of a Library Bitch if I didn't.

Customer: "Do you have a computer I can use to quickly print something off? I know you're closing soon, but I really need this info."

Co-Worker: "Nope. We're closing in 5 minutes. Come back tomorrow."

Customer: "Oh. Is there anywhere downtown that's still open, where I can do this?"

Co-Worker: "I don't know, off-hand, but we're closing, so you can't do it here."

G: "Um, [Co-Worker], why don't we just let him use this computer here, so he can get his file printed off? There's more than enough time for that."

Co-Worker: "We're closing, G. That's why. He can check his email another day."

G: "Really? Last I checked, we didn't close at five to. [To the customer, who is now laughing his ass off] Sir, let me hook you up on this machine here. Got to be quick, though."

The customer was done in two minutes. Turns out he was printing off some confirmation info from a government site regarding his Unemployment Insurance, so he could take it to the bank first thing in the morning. In other words, pretty important stuff, of the non-email variety.

[Co-Worker] shot me a dirty look the entire time, and didn't say a word to me the rest of the night. I guess she steamed about it the entire evening, because the next day I was told of the following exchange:

Co-Worker: "G had no right contradicting me like that in front of customer."

Supervisor: "Last I checked, [Co-Worker], we don't close at five to."

Perfect. Couldn't have happened to a better co-worker, either. If you don't want to do your job, people, get out and find yourself another one where you can sit on your ass and watch the clock tick down. Just don't come here looking for it.

As much as I hate people, and I do, I enjoy being an asshole even more. And the truth is, if my job is to serve the needs of the public, I will do it with a BigSuperHappyFunSmile on my face, right up until we close. Why? Because that's what I'm paid to do.

(How that logic is to complex for certain people, I'll never quite understand. How it is we managed to hire a lot of those people is even further beyond me.)

Final score:

G: Asshole.
Co-Worker: Humiliated.
Customer:Lost business just became a guaranteed repeat visit.
Supervisor: Trusts G's judgment and competency even more, meaning G has earned both independence and power in one foul swoop.

(Don't ever underestimate the importance of that last point.)

Yep, looks like a solid victory all around for yours truly.

It's days like this, people, where I realize just how much I love my job.

What About Fat Camp?

We get these people every day. The excuse-making fatties. Can't stand these people.

Let me clarify this, before you vilify me for saying that.

It's one thing if you're overweight. It happens, whether it's metabolism issue, or whether poor habits have built up over time (we all have plenty of those), or perhaps you really like your beer, and hey, that's fine. Generally, nobody has a problem with your body type, you are who you are. Cool.

Until you start making excuses, that is. And therein lies the issue du jour for yours truly.

I have no problem with the body. At all. It's the attitude of many of those within the body, which irks me.

Some people like to use the metabolism excuse as an opportunity to resort to the famous "there's nothing I can do about it" routine.

Some people like to claim they have a virus that requires they continually eat, so their immune system stays strong to fight it.

Some like to claim "it runs in the family", which brings them full-circle to the can't-do-a-thing argument above.

We get people at [Library] every day, scouring the health section and the databases to find any book, any article, which might justify such claims.

A common question:
"Do you have any books on [SomeRandomCondition], you know, the one which results in people being unable to lose weight?"

Sure do, it's right over here. It's called Smack Yourself Upside The Head For Me.

I mean, come on. You got yourself into that condition, fine. Now get yourself out of it - stop making phony excuses to justify your lack of willpower when the deep-fried delights are on hand.

But the worst ones aren't the excuse-makers. Oh no. The worst ones are the ones who want to do something to lose weight, but are too lazy to go the conventional diet and exercise route.

A common question:
"Do you have any information on [SomeRandomMedicalProcedure], you know, the one that gets you back into shape?"

Sure do, it's right here. It's called Hop On The Treadmill, Tubby. Fifteen minutes a day is all you need to get started with, increase it from there as you go. You know, the way you did with the Big Macs.

Honestly, has our society become so addicted to fat-soaked foods and 8-hour days of sloth that we have to resort to fat-removing surgery, because we can't be bothered to haul our lazy butts out of the ass-groove on the couch every now and then?

And what ever happened to Fat Camps, anyway? Where'd they disappear to? Or are they simple not PC, anymore?

"You can't call them fat camps, that's mean!"

"Here's a box of Kleenex. Now get on the bus, big guy. Camp Tubalubba, here we come!!!"

It ain't difficult, people. I'm no workout warrior myself, but at the same time my friends don't call me Jabba, either. Personally, I am a little out of shape (ahh, the joys of a desk job) but I'm able to squeeze in enough activity to keep the belly curvature at bay. Believe me, if I can do it, anyone can ... my good friend Leglib can attest to this, I'm sure.

And no one's asking these people to go big or go home, when it comes to making the effort to lose weight the proper and healthy way. All we're asking is for some effort to be there. Whether it's fifteen minutes or an hour of exercise a day, be it aerobics, or running, or simple stretching routines, every bit helps.

And don't forget the diet - people need to learn a little moderation. There's nothing people can't eat ... it's all a matter of how much, and how often. Can't live without the McD's? That's okay - try restricting it by one visit each week. Get down to going once a week, and you'll be fine. Apply the same principle to all the deep-fried in your diet, and you'll be amazed at the results. It's really that simple.

That's the info these people need to be looking for, and those few who get it, and come in looking for such natural, drug- and surgery-free approaches, have my utmost respect because I know they aren't lazy, blame-seeking people. They aren't making any excuses; rather, they're actively doing something to reverse their dangerously-unhealthy physical condition.

As for the rest of them, what can I say? Get a treadmill, do some crunches, eat some greens and shut the hell up about the latest fad surgery or diet that some news magazine show - sponsored by some private clinic - got themselves off over. What ever happened to the Atkins diet, anyway?

Exactly.

And if you have fat kids, do them a favor and send them to Fat Camp. The camps could really use the support, and your kids might just come to learn a little about that thing called personal discipline, you know, that thing that's been biting you in your big ass for all these years. Why allow them to make the same mistakes you did (other than population control)?

And don't get me started about the polar opposite, the anorexic kids who think they have to be skeletal because the fashion industry told them so. An industry which bases its notions of sexual appeal around the Heroin Girl look. Seriously, they're willing to take health advice from people who think strung out junkies are sexy? How the hell did the train get this far off the tracks?

Better stop now, before I burst an artery over this. Gotta get in a run to burn off the wings and beer.

(Not difficult, people ...)

Sheeesh.

Top 5 Reference Questions Asked Of G

The RefDesk is a lot of things, but it is never, ever, a dull day. To wit, I have actually provided answers to each of the following questions, several of which I have answered on multiple occasions.


"Where do you sign up for a library card?"
(asked while standing right in front of the large Library Cards sign.)


"Do you have a website?"
(asked while holding a brochure with the web address printed clearly on the front.)


"Why don't you have this book? All libraries should have it!"
(the book in question was a French translation of an obscure Finnish novel about ancient Russian burial rites. [Library] services a WASP, blue-collar town. You do the math.)


"Is Barney really black?"
(who would want to know, and why should it matter?)


"I received an eviction notice because I couldn't pay the rent because I'm out of work and haven't been able to find anything in my field. I need legal information on how to sue my landlord for breaking our rental agreement, and maybe some form of harassment, also."
(you're kidding, right?)


Yeah, it's good to see the people making use of us, up here at the ol' ref desk. We put your tax dollars to good use, each and every day.

The Rule Of Order

Any idea why Robert's Rules Of Order were created, other than to drive those of us attending the meeting utterly insane?

And on a related note, why do people insist on following them as if they are The Penultimate Commandments handed down to The Great Administropoles by Moses himself?

Last I checked, God's last name wasn't Roberts ... the dude's God, what the hell does he need a last name for?

"How're you doing? I'm Gabriel, your new Messenger angel."

"Hey, what's up guy. My name's Jehovah. Jehovah Roberts."

Just doesn't quite work, does it?

Although I've got to admit, it would be pretty funky if ancient scriptures were to be recovered stating that God's actual name was something as innocuous as Mervin Watley. Then again, it would take away a fair bit of the mystique surrounding the religion, and let's face it, mystique and fear are really the only drawing power religion has anymore.

I mean, who's afraid of a dude named Merv, anyway? ***

In the meantime, I'm stuck listening to the proud Chair of [SomeRandomCommittee] prattle on about the proper process in which to conduct a meeting where very huge important decisions - with [Library's] ultimate success or peril at stake - will be made regarding whether procedures for roving reference should be revisited.

Are you there, Merv? It's me, G. Forget the lifeline; throw these people a life.

(*** with apologies - and sympathies - to any of the Merv Watley's out there.)

Overheard

A little example of the utterly useless sh*t that goes on around here ...

Librarian 1:
"Every time [Supervisor] does that, it really bothers me. The way she just up and does it, without asking how I feel, it's like she's lording her power over me."

Librarian 2:
"She must have really low emotional intelligence. I just read a book about that, and it was so good! If she is setting off your emotional triggers like that, all the time, she has no concept of, or respect for, how her actions are affecting your feelings or anyone else's. Her EQ really needs work."

Librarian 1:
"It's not right ... everyone should get along and support each other and not do things in a way that hurts someone else's feelings."

Oh boy.

Honey, this is a place of business. This isn't your home. Home life and work life are two separate things; they always have been, and they always will be. [Supervisor] isn't a family member, or a close friend - she's your boss! Get used to it, sweet pea, 'cause it ain't anything personal, it's just business.

I should probably mention that the [Librarian 1] was complaining because [Supervisor] scheduled her for a shift she normally doesn't work, due to a number of staff cashing in on the last of their vacation time. When she went to complain, [Supervisor] essentially told her that when [Library] is short-staffed, it is an employee's role to be available to fill scheduling gaps as required.

(I happened to be on-hand for this, also; it was a tad stern, but hey, when an employee challenges their boss' authority, what do you expect? I wouldn't have patience for it, either.)

Not that it matters, of course, what the intent of the scheduling was. It was the fact that her boss is requiring her to do her job, rather than asking if she would consider doing her job.

Last I checked, it is [Supervisor's] job to create the schedule based on who is in that day, regardless of whether or not those employees happen to prefer those shifts. If you work under a supervisor, it is not your call how they manage you or the rest of their employees. You can't please everyone, and if [Librarian 1] is appeased, someone else will be upset and the whole situation plays out again from the top.

Unless you happen to be the boss, you don't get to set the rules. That's the deal, and if you don't like it, go home and light a candle for yourself, while we hire someone else who is willing to do their job as dictated by the needs of the organization which is paying them to do exactly that.

[Librarian 1] probably does have a high Emotional Quotient (EQ) - whatever the hell that is. I think it means she's overly sensitive, but I'm a guy, so f**k if I know. Personally, I believe that EQ is just a made up phrase put together by people who like to play the Victim Game so they can place the blame for all of their issues on somebody other than themselves.

But I'll go with it. Maybe there's something to it. Maybe the EQ is there. But the IQ is lacking, big-time, if she thinks the rules revolve around her petty little preferences.

Get a life. Do the job you're hired to do, and shut the hell up about EQ and the importance of feelings - especially selfish ones - while on the job. Save that for your home life; my feeling is you probably need it there more than anywhere, what with the 'all-about-me' attitude you carry into work each and every day.

This is a workplace, a place of business. And in business, feelings don't matter one tiny little iota. Not one bit, no matter how many self-help books say they should. After all, there's a reason those authors are authors, rather than holding down real jobs.

That's the reality. That's the working life. And if you can't deal with that reality, then go find another job so we can replace you with someone less expensive who understands - and is willing to fulfill - their requirements as an employee.

Trust me, you won't be missed by anyone, save for those other lost souls who think a self-help book written by someone who is not a part of the labour force contains all the wisdom in the universe. So light your candle, eat your bonbons, keep reading your BS and blaming the world for your own lack of insight and intelligence. And keep trumpeting that EQ. You gotta do that - without it, what would you have to assure you that you're not the problem?

Just don't expect to actually be happy at your next job, either.

When you wish upon a star ...

... it truly matters who you are.

Case in point:

I've had a furniture request for a new chair sitting as a standing order for about 9 months now. 9 months! A librarian can have a baby in 9 months, but apparantly cannot get a new chair.

I've even gone so far as to raise the ergonomic aspect of the issue. My current chair (if you can even call it that) results in a stiff lower back for yours truly at the end of each day.

Once, long ago, this chair was a standard, run-of-the-mill office chair, but is now a broken-down, beat up stool with a worn-out mechanism in the back support, which causes the back cushion to slide all the way to the bottom. If I were 5'8" or shorter, this would not be an issue. However, I happen to be tall, which from an ergonomic standpoint dictates that a high-back chair would provide the most effective means of back support.

So, in goes the request for a new chair. In goes the notation regarding the ergonomic issue caused by the current chair. And out comes ... nothing. Nada. Zilch. 9 months later, two staff members have new babies in their households, and I have the same old chair in my office.

The limited bit of information available, regarding the Chair Situation, is that the request has been sitting on the Big Boss's desk for most of that time, as a Decision Item (new librarians, learn to dread that term) which has yet to be decided. Apparantly, the $125 required to purchase this chair is just too much money for an organization with a 7-figure budget to commit at the present moment. The word is the decision is being held over until the end of the fiscal year, in case other budgets with line-items more important than an employee's ergonomic situation require a little extra financing.

Because why should an employee's physical well-being really matter, especially to an organization that would have to pay both health benefits and salary during medical leave if that employee's back were go out?

I mean, really, it makes no sense from the organization's standpoint, now, does it?

But I know what the real problem is. It's not a budget issue at all. That's just a lame excuse to cover the real reason, the reason these types of issues occur in any office.

Politics.

I ordered a high-back chair. I based the order on a chair that was being held in the library for delivery to one of the branches. They gave it to me to test out for a few days, and I liked it so much that I placed an order for the same one, having been led to believe this would be fine to do.

Whoops.

Turns out the chair I was given to test, the chair I liked so much that I ordered one of the same, was destined for a branch manager. A Manager. And there I was, the New Guy. So now it's a status issue. Because we've all heard how office status is dictated by (a) furniture type and quality; and (b) square footage of office space.

Rookie mistake. Dumbass mistake.

I, of all people, with the corporate background, should have known better.

(I must have had too much Irish in the coffee that morning.)

The number of feathers that would be ruffled if the New Guy got the same furniture as a Manager is The Question that the Big Boss has been struggling to answer. Technically, I am a Department Head, which at [Library] is a euphemism for Manager, but that only further complicates the issue since I am still considered the New Guy.

And that, people, is exactly why I have yet to receive a new chair, ergonomic issue or not.

Sheeesh. F*ck the politics and just give me the damn chair, already. Unless there is somehow magically enough room in the budget to cover both my chiropractic costs and a contract hire to fill in for me while I'm receiving salary on Medical Leave.

My money is on next spring before a new chair of any sort shows up in my office. Now I need to start placing bets on how long my back will hold up, sitting in the piece of junk they call a chair that I'm stuck with.

The world of office politics never does cease to amaze me with its blatant stupidity and shortsightedness. Sometimes you have to spend money in the short-term to save in the long-term, but hey, who am I kidding? When in public service has anyone ever looked at the long-term?

Anyone? Anyone?

Buehler?