It’s nice to go away, and it’s nice to come back. Peace and quiet are necessary to recharge, but there’s something about getting sucked back into the joyful library malestrom and knowing you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
While digging myself out from under a mountain of e-mail, and celebrating gleefully over Eleventh Stack getting Freshly Pressed (!!!), I’ve also been futzing around with my library’s latest mad-scientist experiment: text reference.
Yes, yes, I know, that’s not really “new.” It is, however, new to us. We weren’t sure how many of our patrons were tweeting, so we tried that. Now we’re trying to see just how attached Pittsburghers are to their cell phones, and whether or not they’ll use them for library consults.
Click here to get the scoop, and please consider sending us a test text question, so we’ve got some data to work with. And thanks in advance for your patience while we get used to doing a new thing.
Not sure when I’ll next get a chance to write, as I really do have some serious catching-up to do here. I’d like to tackle that backlog of pensées, though, and the next one is on a subject near and dear to my heart. Stay tuned.
It’s been a long short week, hasn’t it? Perhaps that’s just my projection, but it sure feels like it.
One lovely library moment I’ve had lately popped up while I researched Pensée #4. Searching for Juvenal led me, eventually, to Homer’s Batrachomyomachia – and the reason I link, specifically, to our catalog record this time is so that you can get a load of the named author/editor and the date. Go on, click. I’ll wait.
I nearly broke both legs on my way up to eighth stack to get my hands on the book. The date is certainly reason enough alone, but if you’re wondering about the author, it’s just a hop, skip and a jump in the associative chain to Keats.
For those of you who didn’t spend more years than is sensible studying literature, I’ll summarize: Keats never really “got” Homer, mostly because he found the translations boring. He had a special beef with Pope’s translation, an opinion that irked fellow poet Lord Byron to no end. And yet, when Keats and his friend got their hands on Chapman’s translation, the recently film-ified Homer-hater finally “got it.” In fact, he got it so strongly that he stayed up all night writing a poem about it.
[My next question, of course, was, do we actually have "Chapman's Homer" in its entirety? Answer = yes. "Replicate Keats's reading experience" is now at the top of my to-do list.]
Clearly Keats was not having the greatest “user experience” with Homer. Then Chapman came along, and it was like a whole new world for him. That knocks me out, because it sounds so much like what still goes on in our libraries today. A hurried businessperson feels s/he “doesn’t have time to read,” but s/he loves using the Playaways. Or maybe a non-native English speaker doesn’t feel ready for the fiction section just yet, but loves the graphic novels. See also instructional DVDs, databases, and books on CD, and the uses thereof.
Have you had a Keats experience lately, either as a librarian or as a library user? What book, movie, CD, work of art, etc. clarified something for you so that you “got it”? In what sort of materials/services are your “user experiences” primarily based?
[I have to confess, I'm rather fond of the crumbly books and the ideas that have stood the test of time. I wonder, occasionally, what will last, what precious 21st-century artifacts future librarians will break both legs to look at, and cradle lovingly in their hands. Any guesses?]
Reading Today:Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, David Lipsky. Lipsky has an extensive heart-to-heart with David Foster Wallace, and LAV finally understands the magnitude of just what we’ve lost.
Previously, on Alchemy, we’d seemingly written ourselves into a corner, what with surface-scratching neuroscience, myth, symbol, and many examples of heinous fail, all of which actually happened somewhere in library world. In addition, a number of brave commenters stepped up to the plate to talk about their own mistakes and failures. On these brave souls I hereby bestow the Black Badge of Infamy With Pink Skulls Upon It.
Metaphorically, of course. I’ve got no budget for actual badges (and you don’t really need them anyhow). What I do have are a few stolen moments in which to advance my theories.
First, the vampires.
Vampire as Fail Metaphor
Ever since John Polidori sat up all night telling ghost stories with Byron and the Shelleys, we’ve had vampires in our fiction, for good or ill. Many a scholarlystudy theorizes as to why this particular undead creature continues to fascinate us, but from where I’m sitting, it’s pretty simple: humans need blood to live, and vampires take blood. Ergo, vampires are scary as hell.
[What's interesting is that we seem to be entering a fictional age in which vampires have compassion, can be redeemed, even fight for equal rights. Ergo, I'd better hurry up and finish this metaphor before what was once a classic symbol of terror becomes completely drained of its potency.]
Vampires make a lovely metaphor for failure simply because the prospect of screwing up exerts a similar effect: failure stops us in our tracks, drains us of confidence, leaves us depleted and wondering what the heck happened to us. Once you’ve been bitten, it’s hard to shake it off and bounce back, especially if you don’t feel you have anyone you can confide in.
Now up the stakes by thinking about failure specifically within the library.
Librarianship is a profession in transition, actively questioning its future. What’s the role of the physical library? What do reference services in the 21st century look like? How do we serve the “born digital” without neglecting the rest of the community’s needs? What’s the future of cataloging? How can we teach information literacy to people who are perfectly happy with Wikipedia, and don’t necessarily care if Wikipedia is wrong, or if better sources exist? How can we convince the non-librarians who oversee our medical/special/school libraries that our services are value-added? Are library coffeeshops still hot, or are they “soooo 2004″?
That’s just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s enough to establish that librarianship gives us enough to worry about on good days. Adding the prospect of failure to the mix simply ramps up the possibility of vampiric possession. When everything around you is hazy, nebulous, uncertain, subject to change at any moment, the prospect of somehow “doing it wrong” is almost too much to bear.
So what do we do? Because this is me you’re dealing with here, you get two answers: a logical one, and a mythic-symbolic one. In Part III of this series, I’ll give you the logical answer which incorporates the forty thousand things I’m learning about neuroscience! And in part IV, we’ll finally get to Abraham Lincoln and his vampiric (or not) tendencies.
I know, I know. I took a day off, I got buried in catch-up work, I had to lower the blogging bar. It happens. Can I get a witness? I shudder to think what will happen when I disappear the week of my birthday, if, indeed, I do dare to take that much vacation all at once.
I’ve just returned from another one of my mini-staycations. Notice how nobody died, and nothing caught fire. My email is a right backlog, though – I’ve spent most of this morning cleaning it up.
Don’t you worry about becoming irrelevant in today’s fast-paced world of digital excitement?
Even we technomages have our limits. I think it’s very important to spend periods of time away from workmail, workblogs, worktwitter, workfacebook, and, well, work, period. I’m actually much more concerned at the moment as to whether or not I can use the word “technomage” without J. Michael Straczynski slapping a lawsuit on me. A quick search of the Trademark Electronic Search Service (TESS) at the USPTO site indicates I’m safe, but I think he should probably call me, just so we can have a good professional discussion and clear that up.
Fair enough. Now that you’re back at work, can you tell us why there was no August Wilson Leadership Academy post for Feburary?
Er, yes. That. I chose to spend my time differently last month.
But it was such a good idea!
I know.
And you promised!
I know! I hang my head in shame.
So, when will we see the next installment?
When I read something that inspires me. It’s not looking hopeful. I’ve been reading a lot of leadership material, and, well…
Well what?
It’s kind of depressing.
Seriously?
Yes.
Why?
Reasons vary. Some books are heavy on the inspiration, light on the practical implementation. Others are crammed with bullet points, suggestions and tips to the point where it’s overwhelming. And don’t even get me started on “management parables.”
Well, why don’t you talk about that, then?
No can do. Much like Booklist, Alchemy only gives positive reviews.
Where’s the fun in that?
Hey, nobody tries to write a bad book. Even Stephanie Meyer had good, albeit sparkly, intentions.
So, how have you been choosing to spend your time?
Workwise, it’s still all about the databases: making sure they’re working properly, troubleshooting them when they’re not, promoting/marketing them, gathering statistics, trying to see if all the vendors can deliver said statistics in the new format certain parties want, running trials, giving meetings, taking notes, and trying to stay on top of / manage the ongoing POWER library situation.
Zzzzzzzz….
Hey, you asked!
Sorry.
It’s not very exciting, I know. So much library work takes place behind the scenes, and is difficult to talk about in an exciting way. This is why I usually philosophize rather than talk about what I’m doing. I’ll gladly change my position on this if I suddenly get an outpouring of comments begging to hear more about the intricacies of einetwork database statistics collection.
Er, pass. Are you working on anything exciting at the moment?
When I’m not managing the electronic resources, I’m still doing everything else I usually do: buying books, fussing over Eleventh Stack and CLPicks, staffing virtual reference and — once in a blue moon — working at the physical reference desk.
What’s your favorite workday responsibility?
Of all the tasks on my to-do list, coordinating Eleventh Stack is still my favorite. Serving as team leader/editor is fun and educational, and I’m both surprised and pleased that our library’s blog has passed its second birthday without a drop in quality or quantity. Credit for that goes to my amazing team, of course.
So, you’re not at the reference desk much these days. How do you feel about that?
Truthfully, I would like more time at the physical reference desk. However, there will be plenty of time for that when my countywide committee responsibilities end in 2011. I think it’s really important to try as many things as you can; even if you find out that certain kinds of library work are not to your liking or skill set, you can still learn from them. And I’m certainly not sorry for the opportunity to get to know my peers out in the county — it’s led to a number of opportunities I wouldn’t have otherwise had, and I have a better picture of the Pittsburgh’s public library landscape than I did previously.
That’s a lot of p-sounds in a sentence.
That’s technically not a question.
Sorry. Read any good books lately?
I thought you’d never ask. Under the umbrella of professional reading, I’m currently swooning over The Late Age of Print, which nimbly vaults over the “print vs. digital” dilemma by examining the print book as a consumer product / cultural artifact. On the religion/spirituality tip, I’ve got Without Buddha I Could Not Be A Christian (vocabulary and diction geared toward the divinity school set) and Bring Me the Rhinoceros (more layman-friendly). Fictionwise, I’m in slack-jawed awe of American Salvage, a collection of tight, well-constructed stories about uncomfortable subjects, and Every Last Drop, the fourth installment of the Joe Pitt Chronicles, a series designed expressly for folks who appreciate the hard-boiled qualities of Chandler and Hammett, New York stories, and — are you sensing a theme, here? — non-sparkly vampires.
It does! Problem is, I have a feeling it will blow any other excuses I have for not writing into smithereens.
And that’s bad because….?
Because facing up to the truth about yourself, your gifts and abilities, and the way you can best serve the profession, and then getting over your fears and excuses, is one of the scariest things you can do throughout your career. And it’s not like you do it once and you’re done with the process: if you’re growing as a professional, you are constantly surveying the landscape, looking at where you are now, as well as where you would like to be.
Where would you like to be?
That’s the kicker: I thought I knew. Now everything ‘s up for grabs again. This is very scary, but also delightful.
In what way?
Well, when you stop growing and learning, you might as well hang it up. And I’m afraid you lot are stuck with me for quite some time.
All righty then. Anything else to report?
I’ve just finished and turned in another book review. Book reviewing knocks me out, and I’d love to do more of it, so I’m currently scouting out more opportunities there.
I’ve also just been selected for the third cohort of the CLP Leadership Institute, a training program for Carnegie Library staff under the auspices of the Laura Bush 21st Century Librarian grant we received. I’m hoping this means I’ll be exposed to a better quality of leadership literature; it definitely means a lot more meetings and seminars in my future, though, which brings us back to the problem of making more time to write for Alchemy.
So, what are you going to do about that?
I have a few ideas. I seem to work better with structure and guidelines, so I’m looking for a writing template that will be both on-topic and regular. Heaven help us all, I also have an idea for a completely separate library blog, and am quietly making my pitch to parties I suspect might be interested in collaborating on it. If that takes off, it will debut near the end of April, and will serve to complement the kinds of things I like to discuss, but can’t always make time for. It will also, I hope, fill an as-yet-unfilled niche in library world.
And that is…?
You’ll just have to rest in the mystery a little while longer.
Fair enough. How are you going to spend the rest of your day?
I have one hour in which to take things that are currently on my desk and do whatever it takes to get them off of my desk and finished. I will then spend the last two hours of my day on AskHere PA.
Do you like working virtual reference?
I absolutely love it. Disdained by some, virtual reference is actually a key service these days, primarily because the quality and type of the questions received simply cries out for informed professionals who are skillful at ready-reference, information literacy, bibliographic instruction, and good writing/communication skills. A healthy dose of compassion certainly doesn’t hurt either.
Can you send us off with a video?
Ask and get. Here’s a clip from a British band called The Heavy, whose performance on David Letterman was simply splendid. If you enjoy old-school soul, but appreciate contemporary twists, you’d do well to watch this clip, and then run — not walk — to pick up The House That Dirt Built.
Woah! Dancing skeletons! That’s, er, not very professional.
Probably not in the conventional sense. Remember, though: Alchemy’s all about balance and fun along with all those high standards. See also “not forgetting you’re a human being with human needs” and “regular rock out breaks.”
Well, that was…very Alchemy.
Thanks! Tune in next time for a little less fun, but a lot more professional philosophy, probably early next week.
Lest I give the impression that Alchemy can do no wrong, or that things are always easy for me, I must confess that this past week has been very much like leadership bootcamp. Not in a bad way. In fact, ultimately in a productive, “growthy” way. But I take my lumps just like everyone else, I assure you.
One of my biggest challenges is what I think of as, with apologies to George Eliot, middle marching. It’s the tightrope-walker phenomenon that occurs when you have multiple constituencies to please, and middle managers know just what I’m talking about, because they’re accountable to both administrators above them, as well as their staff below them.
In my case, it’s not so simple. I’m a Gen-X project leader bobbing and weaving between Boomer managers and the Millennials on their staffs. This means that my responsibilities are, in no particular order:
To make my boss look good
To make my library look good
To encourage and nuture my team members
To make sure my project is compliant with the larger organizational picture
To foster change and innovation in a way that is non-threatening for all stakeholders, and compliant with the library’s strategic plan
It’s obvious where the struggles lie here. You can’t make omelettes without breaking some eggs. I would argue, however, that breaking eggs for the sake of breaking eggs is simply a waste of eggs. Some eggs aren’t meant to be broken. Some eggs are meant to be decorated prettily and put in a basket with hay. Others are meant to hatch and become peeps who will grow up and lay more eggs, some of which might be omelette-appropriate. It goes without saying that you should never throw eggs at anybody else’s glass house. Bottom line? You have to know which eggs to break, and which to leave intact.
That incredible, edible metaphor is all a roundabout way of saying that communication is probably the most important thing a leader does (or doesn’t do). Nothing else matters as much. You can be aces at everything else, but if you can’t communicate properly and professionally, you’re going to have problems.
So, how do you middle march? Here are some of my guesses, based on what I’ve learned this week:
Assume that everyone has good intentions. Cling to that assumption even when you want to pull your hair out.
Wait 24 hours before you send e-mails about sensitive issues.
Better yet, go talk to people directly. You probably need the exercise, and there’s less chance of being misunderstood.
Be able to back up every decision you make with policies, procedures, goals and objectives.
Don’t take anything personally.
Don’t take anything personally [lather, rinse, repeat]
Apologize when you are wrong. Stick to your guns when you are right.
Pick your battles. Not every hill is the one you want to fight and die on.
Concede defeat graciously. You have, after all, lived to fight another day.
Put yourself in other people’s shoes. Build bridges, not walls.
Forgive other people for their mistakes and move on.
Forgive yourself for your mistakes, and move on.
Strive to be the kind of person your cats already think you are [except for the whole "made of tuna" part].
Communicate well, clearly, and often!
Thoughts? I need all the help I can get, dears.
We have almost reached the end of a very busy/exciting week! Next week,when the dust settles, I will have much to tell. For now, we’ll push the Hepburn post back a teensy bit so that I can keep my promise to Library Scenester Erin Dorney, who tagged me in an internet happiness meme. Normally I’m as enthusiastic about memes as I am about diphtheria, but since we could all use a little more happiness in this crazy world, I’m down with it just this once.
I’m finally ready to get cracking on this project! Of course, in the interim, I’ve had a number of experiences that have really challenged my views of leadership. Stay tuned for posts called “Middle Marching” and “Hepburn v. Hepburn: Leader or Change Agent?”, as well as a sidebar on following and followers.
For now, though, I’m delivering on my promise with the January pick of the August Wilson Leadership Academy (Patent Pending): Susan Scott’s Fierce Leadership.
Summary
Scott’s introduction outlines her philosophy/methodology, then includes a section in which she defines “fierce.” This is both useful and important, as it lets the reader know right from the get-go what s/he’s in for. The concept of “squid eye” as an analytical tool is introduced – “squid eye” is analogous to what we here at Alchemy refer to as “calling shenanigans”; it is both an important tool in Scott’s repetoire, and the most delightful phraseology I’ve encountered in a book since kicking back with Jill Conner Browne.
The bulk of the text is devoted to six “Fierce Practices,” as follows:
365 face-to-face feedback
Hiring for “smart + heart”
Modeling accountability and holding people able
Actually engaging employees
Customer connectivity
Radical transparency
For each practice, Scott explains what it is and compares it to “business as usual” in organizations, then demonstrates how the fierce practice can trump it. Specific questions you can use to apply “squid eye” to your own organization are provided, and sections called “Taking it to the Organization” and “Personal Action Plan” give the reader the tools to apply the practice in concrete fashion.
Scott’s book ends with an exceptionally poetic conclusion and a list of recommended readings which, while short, decidedly emphasizes quality over quantity.
Rhetoric
This book will appeal to you if you have both a poetic soul and a pragmatic outlook; Scott draws heavily on literary, poetic, and diverse spiritual principles to make her points. She also has a no-nonsense, earthy sense of humor that had this reviewer rolling in the aisles at times. Books like Scott’s deliver the best of both worlds: enough inspiration to appeal to folks who lead from the heart, paired with enough pragmatism and tough-love sensibility to reassure the cynical that they’re for real.
Recommended for
Librarians who despair at times over the challenges in their organizations, but haven’t given up hope that things could be changed for the better.
Drawbacks
The only fault I could find with this book is that if you haven’t read Scott’s first book, Fierce Conversations, you may find yourself lost at times, or perhaps not getting the full extent of what’s offered in Fierce Leadership. While Scott does her best to make connections between the two books, reading one is decidedly a pre-requisite to reading the other. Had I known this, I might not have chosen it for AWLA (PP), but its merits more than make up for this one teensy deficit. And now you know which order to read them in, so my work here is done. I’ll be nabbing Fierce Conversations for myself ASAP.
Discussion/Analysis
Despite my efforts to remain detached, I have to admit that I’m really fond of this book, and think it should be used in leadership training for librarians. The concepts of fierce conversations and squid eye directly address the biggest problem I think our profession has: an inclination towards public displays of passive-aggressive behavior.
In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s quite a bit of change going on the profession right now. Some folks fear it; others embrace it. Regrettably, however, few people in either camp have demonstrated the ability to communicate constructively outside of their own belief circle. It drives me bananas to read about librarians slagging on each other in anonymous blogs and blog comments, and/or sending anonymous tips about “horrible” things other libraries and librarians are doing. Academic librarians diss public librarians, and vice versa. Adult librarians look down on YA librarians, and vice versa. School librarians, medical librarians, and corporate librarians get little to no love, except from other medical, corporate, and school librarians. Very rarely do I actually see an attempt to build bridges and actually communicate.
This makes no sense to me. Do pediatricians sit around talking smack on plastic surgeons? Do tax law specialists blog anonymously about public defenders? Only in librarianship does there seem to be a so-called “professional” community that sometimes behaves like anything but.
[NB: I am open to the possibility that I am simply looking in the wrong places and reading the wrong things. Given that reason and critical thinking are not as "sexy" as anonymous slagging, and harder to find, it's possible there are people out there working for the greater good who simply aren't getting the attention they deserve. Somebody, please, prove me wrong, and provide some links.]
At the organizational level, what I see and hear time and time again is that there’s all this stuff going wrong, but we can’t do anything about it because we’re just little people who have no power. Worse, when there are attempts to change the status quo, they usually involve creating “us vs. them” divides, in which some folks in the organization are cast as villains, and the perception is put about that if “those folks” would just retire, leave, or get a clue, we would have a happy-sunshine-rainbow-land where everything worked perfectly.
After watching all of this for about seven years now, I call shenanigans, er, squid eye, on the whole kit and kaboodle.
I understand where it comes from, though, mostly because I’m no better than anyone else in this regard when the conversations have the potential to get fierce. Ferocity, as Scott lays it out, is uncomfortable. It’s scary as hell. It doesn’t feel good to have to go to somebody and tell them something they probably don’t want to hear. It doesn’t feel good to have people angry with you because you spoke your truth. And it’s lonely, sometimes, to be the person who disagrees with the crowd, even if you know in your heart you’re being true to yourself, and couldn’t just go along to get along if you wanted to.
It’s easier, sometimes, to blog anonymously, or comment anonymously, than to put your name on something and stand behind it, devil take the consequences. It’s easier to talk about people behind their backs than it is to try to build bridges with them, or tell them to their faces why they’ve upset you. What’s even worse is that it’s easier to stay silent than it is to do any of those things.
It’s easier to hire the person who fits in with the organization, rather than the person who could move you forward if you gave him/her a chance. It’s easier to blame other people for what’s going wrong than to examine your conscience and see how you might have contributed to the problem through your own behavior. It’s easier to write off your problem patrons, your middle and/or upper management, or your disgruntled employees rather than making the time to get to the root of their issues and see what can be healed. And don’t even get me started on “radical transparency”: for as much as we bandy that about in library science, I suspect that many of us simply aren’t ready for it.
But I think we could change.
And, ultimately, belief is at the root of ferocity. Scott makes it very clear that you don’t have to believe what she believes, but you sure as hell need to believe in something. For librarians, this is doubly important. We are not corporate, in the sense that what we do is not about engendering profits. Success, in our realm, is measured in lives changed, via refdesk ticks, the number of people at our programs, the number of database accesses, etc. Those metrics speak to supporting democracy and transforming society. We are the luckiest freaking people on the planet, because we don’t just crank out widgets. We don’t pollute the environment, either – in fact, whenever we do our jobs, the world is generally a better place than we found it.
So why don’t we act like it more often?
Think about your library for just a minute. Think about how awesome it could be if, in the popular parlance, people stopped being polite and started being real. Think about how much more the profession would rock if we actually started reaching out to people who were different from us, and engaged them in frank talk and creative solutions, instead of pitching attitude, calling names, and creating “just like us” enclaves where no ideas ever threatened our view of what libraries should be like.
Did that upset you? Raise your hackles, perhaps? Good. If the shoe fits, you should probably buy it in as many colors as you can. And if you decide you don’t like those shoes, then maybe it’s time to start shopping for different shoes.
Don’t worry. I’m looking at myself just as closely, because, as Scott observes repeatedly throughout Fierce Conversations, the best way to create change and rock an organization is to look at yourself, and where you fall short, and start there. Indeed, it is the only place to start. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve failed to be the person I know I could be, I could buy you all a copy of the book…but I believe I could learn from my mistakes and move foward.
I mean, let’s face it: who am I? I’m an ordinary librarian in an ordinary community. I’m not a role model. I’m not a “famous librarian” (and, quite frankly, unless your name is Nancy Pearl or Casanova, neither are you). I’m a lovably flawed human being who wants to improve, and would like us to at least be able to talk about all this stuff honestly. In other words, I’m probably just like you. But though I be but little, I be fierce.
Who’s with me?
Resources
I love companion websites, and I love authors who give away freebies. Visit Fierce Leadership to get some goodies from Scott, sign up for her newsletter, learn more about her company, and watch a short video that nails the gist of her philosophy/practices.
There you have it. Once Feburary’s AWLA (PP) pick is ready, I’ll create the AWLA (PP) page with January’s post archive, and a list of suggested companion readings and questions to ask yourself. And if I haven’t upset anybody with this column, then I probably did it wrong.
Previously-scheduled train of thought sidelined by a random idea!
I believe in fair wages for all. I also believe that folks who are in business for themselves have the right to decide for themselves just what constitutes “fair” and charge for their services accordingly. My blue-collar roots rankle, however, whenever I get a catalog that pitches leadership seminars for $1200 a pop, not including transportation / accommodation costs.
And it’s not because I begrudge them one iota. Nope. Successful people inspire me, because if they can achieve their dreams–often despite major hardships–then I pretty much have no excuse, given the relative privileges and advantages I possess. However, narrowing the gap between where I am (namely, unable to afford a $1200 seminar) and where I would like to be (able to afford the $1200 seminar but doing something else with that money instead) is what proves tricky.
Ergo, while leafing through Yet Another Pricey Catalog and muttering invective under my breath, I decided that what I’ve now come to call the August Wilson Rule applies just as much to leadershp as it does to anything else in life: if you can’t afford it, use the library.
I’ve sung Mr. Wilson’s praises before, but here’s a quick summary for those of you who haven’t heard that particular tune: while attending a Pittsburgh high school, playwright August Wilson was unjustly accused of plagiarism. As a result, he dropped out of school and decided to educate himself at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. He came in every day and got himself a world-class education with our collection, and for his efforts he received a diploma. Currently, he is the only person in the world with an educational credential from CLP.
I’d like to be #2, but let’s not get carried away here. At least, not just yet.
Okay, let’s get just a little bit carried away, shall we? Here’s something I’ll try in 2010 to see how it works out: I will read at least one current book on leadership every month, and review it here at Alchemy. Then I’ll add it to a page called “The August Wilson Leadership Academy (Patent Pending)” so that you’ll be able to skim the list and see whether or not it would be a good fit for your own lifelong learning endeavors.
And just to make it interesting, I’m not going to necessarily pick the books on library leadership. Nope. We’re a little odd here at Alchemy, with our strange notions about trying to incorporate what’s useful from the Outside World into library practice. Besides, there are plenty of other bloggers reviewing the library literature – it will be much more fun for me to try to critically analyze the larger body of leadership writings and try to separate the wheat from the chaff for my peers.
I know, I know – I have some strange ideas about what constitutes a good time. My girlfiends and I are working on that one, I assure you.
Let me know what you think – I have a couple of drafts in the hopper, so we will hopefully get back to the other things I wanted to talk about before year’s end. I also had another smashing idea for 2010 that I want to run by you before I vanish for my long New Year’s vacation (I actually forgot to take my three floating holidays this year – somebody, please, save me from myself!).
Tonight is the library board meeting in which the fate of the branches are decided, so I suppose it would make sense to talk about the big white elephant next, once the dust clears. Stay tuned.
Okay, truth be told, I can’t stand hockey. Too much fighting, and my poor beleagured eyes can’t follow the puck as it sizzles across the ice. Come to think of it, though, those two qualities of the sport make it an excellent metaphor for trying to craft goals in an environment of uncertainty.
It’s quite the conundrum. You don’t want to come up with something too elaborate, lofty or specific, just in case the budget doesn’t permit it; on the other hand, you don’t want to throw in the towel entirely because, well, the final bell has not yet rung. It has not rung today, and it is probably not going to ring tomorrow. Ergo, you try to walk that middle path.
Here are some of my goals for 2010.
Professional Goals
Learn Camtasia! The First Floor staff are using this, and watching what they’ve come up with is really inspiring. It could really do wonders for database promotion and training, at the CLP as well as the countywide levels.
Seek out additional leadership training opportunities. One leadership institute (and two months supervising an intern) does not an expert make.
Submit something somewhere to be published. I know, could I be a bit more vague? I’m a little nervous about writing for publication; do I really have what it takes to actually be accepted by a refereed professional journal? We shall see.
Review in an additional genre, and be accepted as a reviewer by an additional publication. Why not do more of what I love?
Increase the number of hours I work on virtual reference. That one depends heavily on which way the budget axe falls, but if you’re going to shoot, shoot for the moon. I’m writing an open letter to Gov. Rendell about this, in my head, as we speak.
Personal Goals
Wait, what? In accordance with the holistic principles of Library Alchemy, I cheerfully submit that the chance of achieving the goals listed above increase exponentially in proportion to the care I lavish on my personal development outside my job. Ergo, personal goals:
Design and complete a course in fiction writing, based on The Portable MFA in Creative Writing. I’ve actually written up a syllabus and am technically on week two of the course, though, little Hermione Granger that I am, I’m actually a week or so ahead on the assignments. Those of you on Facebook have already been subjected to lengthy squee about this, so I’ll spare you in this forum, but do feel free to ping me for details if you are interested.
Participate in a spiritual retreat. Spirituality is an uneasy thing to speak of aloud, not only because people assume you want to convert them to your way of thinking, but also because no words can adequately express what’s going on in one’s heart. The phrase “I’m a spiritual person” is one of the dumbest-sounding things you can say out loud, and folks who do feel obligated to say such things aloud are usually overcompensating for things they are not really doing. All that being said, I feel the need to deepen my spiritual practice, and I think taking a long retreat is just the ticket for that.
Start saving up to buy a house/loft/condo. If it’s in the cards for me to stay here, then I think 12 years of apartment-dwelling is quite long enough, don’t you? Seriously, I’m starting to feel the need to put down roots, and there are some lovely, affordable homes in this city. The majority of them even have the hardwood floors I adore (wall-to-wall carpet is for people who actually enjoy housework, IMHO). Not exactly the greatest time in the economy to start dreaming of nests and feathers, but if you look at it another way, there really never is any time like the present, is there?
So, there’s that. I’d best get back to the things I’m working on. I’m pretty pleased that I managed to crank out the agenda for tomorrow’s database meeting this morning, and make all the photocopies ahead of time to boot–usually this is something I’m doing 30 minutes before the meeting while biting my lip to keep from cursing the copier. However, I have miles to go before I sleep, so I’ll leave you with the promise of another entry, soon.
Your alchemist is not the most graceful person on the planet. Ever since my childhood dance teacher suggested–not unkindly, mind you–that perhaps being a prima ballerina was not in my future, I’ve been a little leery of anything that requires physical coordination. When I do dance, it’s either in a dark, crowded room where nobody’s really looking at me, or in the privacy of my own apartment, where I can lace up my Doc Martens, crank up something gothtastic on iTunes, and let ‘er rip.
Dancing with vendors is a slightly different proposition, but, I would argue, only slightly. The same amount of grace and dexterity is required, and there’s certainly plenty of sweat involved. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pick the best products and services for your library. This involves setting good boundaries, being able to say no without closing a door to future interactions, should your needs change, communicating your needs clearly, and, from time to time, letting poor behavior roll off your back.
All things considered, strapping on a pair of pointe shoes again sometimes seems preferable! That being said, though, I’ve been practicing this particular form of dance for about two years now, and I think I’m starting to get the hang of the basics. Maybe in a few more years, if this sort of thing continues to be part of my responsibilities, I’ll be able to execute the pas de deux with the best of ‘em (like our former deputy director, who was, arguably, the Martha Graham of database negotiation).
Here are some behaviors that work well for me in the sense of keeping me relatively sane when doing the vendor dance. I’d also like to offer some suggestions to vendors so that our dances together can be more enjoyable for both of us.
Dance Steps for Librarians
Try scheduling vendor calls. Your Outlook calendar can be your friend. If your life is as busy as mine, you can’t always take a call when the vendor wants to talk…and yet, sometimes, you really will be interested in what they have to say. Offer to schedule a time that’s convenient for you. This cuts down on random calls, and lets vendors know you’re willing to dance. If a vendor isn’t willing to work with you on your time, maybe it’s time to rethink that relationship.
Learn to say no. I know, I know. If we could all figure this one out, the world would be a magical place full of sunshine and rainbows. Still, the only way you’re going to get better at this is if you practice. There are a million ways to say no, and many of them are kind. “We’re going in a different direction right now” and “This doesn’t seem like the right solution for us at this time” are two examples. There’s something to be said, as well, for the basic, “No thank you, we’re not interested right now.” Pick your poison, but pick one (PA residents should feel free to invoke the state budget dilemma)!!
Screen your calls. This is a sticky wicket for me personally, because I don’t have a personal extension or voice mail. I hate asking my colleagues to run interference for me and take messages, but the fact of the matter is this: if you’re the vendor contact, and you take every single call that comes in for you, you will go stark raving mad in short order; in addition, you will never get anything else done. If you can screen calls, do it! If you can’t, talk to your boss and colleagues about what a good solution for your office might look like.
Take calls when you can. Vendors are human beings with a job to do, so you should treat them with the same respect you would ask for yourself. That means actually taking their calls when you can. If you aren’t interested in the product, see #2. If you’re interested, but the timing isn’t right, say so, and suggest you talk again in X number of months, or next year, or next budget cycle.
Have FAQ information organized and ready. Vendors often need to know certain things in order to quote us prices accurately. Often this information includes population served, number of cardholders, city/county population, and/or number of public computers available. Write these things on an index card and keep it handy. That way you can make the most of your phone time by being prepared for questions.
Be able to articulate specifically what your users want and need. By the same token, there are certain things you’re looking for in a product. Make a list of these and ask about them right away. If the vendor cannot fulfill your needs, it’s better to find out right up front. Then you can go straight to #2 for the polite “no.”
Don’t take bad behavior personally. Selling something for a living–and some folks are solely on commission–can really stink, especially during these economic times. If you’re working with a vendor who dances clumsily, please try to remember that they did not get up this morning hell-bent on ruining your workday. A vendor’s job is to sell you things. That’s just how it is. If their behavior bugs you, please go find a colleague to vent to, or watch a funny kittens video on YouTube, or make an ice cream run, or whatever will get you through the day. Just don’t take it personally, because, quite frankly, it isn’t.
Dance Steps for Vendors
Dear library product vendors: Your job is a tough one, and I know I wouldn’t do it very well, so I appreciate the hard work you do. Here are some suggestions I would like to make that could improve our relationship all around, and make for better business transactions.
Please don’t send me presents. I don’t know you very well, and getting a gift from somebody I don’t know is a little awkward and doesn’t feel ethically correct. On top of that, giving me a present is not likely to influence my purchase decisions, especially if your product isn’t what my patrons need right now. I’d much rather the money you spent on presents went toward improving your product, and making sure all your employees get a fair wage.
Please don’t call me 3 times in 30 minutes. If I can’t take your call, it’s because I have another committment. Working in a large public library is delightfully insane, and it doesn’t make for predictable phone availability. Repeat calls in a short period of time doesn’t make me enthusiastic about your persistence or your product. I know you’ve been burned on this one before, but I’d appreciate it if you could trust me.
Please learn to spell and pronounce my name. It’s a little tricky, I’ll grant you, but it’s not like they call me Chasmodeus Czyrwilmeninczky. I accept that I’ll probably have to explain it once or twice. Once we hit three times, however, it just seems like you’re not listening.
Please don’t write me long, friendly e-mails full of chit-chat if we’ve just met. If I’ve contacted you for information, I’d like just that information. I know that the current business emphasis on making the customer feel valuable has resulted in a lot of friendly gestures designed to make us feel comfortable with you as people. A good working relationship, however, is built over time. If I buy your product, and we work together a lot, a level of informality will grow naturally. Being overly folksy right out of the gate is somewhat off-putting, however.
Please answer the questions we actually have. I know you’re really proud of your product, and you want to tell me everything about how it’s going to change my life. But if I have a question, I’d really like the answer to just that question, and not an explanation of all the other great things. If I ask about a feature you don’t have, don’t tell me about the other four features you DO have. If I have questions about those features, I will ask you.
Please don’t take “no” personally. If your product isn’t right for us, or we have to cancel your product due to budget cuts, or whatever reason we’re saying “no” at this time…it’s not personal. You didn’t do anything wrong, per se, and you should take our “no” at face value. Calling repeatedly to find out the “real” reason why we canceled is kind of stalkerish, and doesn’t inspire a change of heart.
If we ask for a trial, please don’t offer us a live demo. This is especially applicable to vendors who are just now discovering the library market, and don’t know public libraries or their users very well. We want to get our hands on your product and playtest it against the realities we face every day. Live demos can be interesting, but there isn’t always time in the day for them. On top of that, a lot of time can be wasted in a live demo trying to get you to cut to the chase. I know you’ve worked very hard on your presentation, but there are certain things we look for that only a good playtesting will assess accurately. If we have questions, or want a live demo, we will ask for them. Pinky swear.
Now, all of that being said? I work with some really cool vendors. I’m Facebook friends with one of our reps, and she’s been insanely helpful in terms of training, answering questions, tech support, etc. She also understands the boundaries of our professional relationship and doesn’t feel the need to comment on every conversation I have. There’s another vendor with whom I wish we were doing business (stupid PA budget) because she’s perfected the art of knowing how often to call to see if our situation has changed, and she’s clearly done her homework on public libraries because she knows what’s important to us and what’s not. Doing the vendor dance doesn’t have to be a hair-pulling, migraine-headache inducing experience; it can be pleasant, cvil, calm, and–dare I say it?–even fun on occasion. It only works, though, when we all strive to dance well.
As ever, I would like to hear your take on these things, and I’m open to other perspectives. Do you work with vendors at your library? How’s that working out for you? Do you have any tips for an intermediate, still slightly clumsy, alchemist?
Oh, and I wasn’t kidding about the Docs or the dancing. Might I suggest A Life Less Lived? To see if it would be your cup of tea, here’s a representative sample:
This is too good not to share – this week the 23 Things ‘N @ crew is studying YouTube and Flickr. Once again, folks went above and beyond, and here’s the empirical proof: another summer reading video, this time from the Community Library of Allegheny Valley, Harrison:
Good Grieg!
Have a safe and happy Fourth, everyone. I’ll try to get back on track next week, before we launch once more into the ALA Chronicles…
