Big White Elephant on a Diet: A Budget Crisis Post-Mortem

December 16, 2009 at 4:25 pm (fundraising, humor, news, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

All’s well that pauses well.

Because, of course, this isn’t the end.  It’s merely the beginning.  But what a beginning.  People got upset.  Protests were held.  Letters to the editor were written.  Facebook groups were formed, and then combined to create a veritable Voltron of library advocacy.  Questions were asked, some nicely, some not-so-nicely.  Taxes were proposed, and roundly decried.  A short-term solution was ultimately found.  Additional state income from table gaming was proposed, and then approved.

Meanwhile, inside the library, the rowdy team of intellectual gymnasts I’ve come to know and love held down the fort. This was not always easy. It was a very emotional time. I suspect we managed because we had each other. It is the absolute heighth of corny to say that the people you work with are like your family. That being acknowledged, well…slap me in a bucket of Jiffy-Pop and light the burner, because it’s true. We’re very fortunate in that we don’t have to look too far for a sympathetic ear, an encouraging word, or an e-mail with a LOLcat, complete with (in)appropriate caption.

Because my crunchy, cynical exterior hides a soft, creamy romantic center (much like a high-quality truffle!), I can say without a trace of irony that it was indeed both the worst of times and the best of times.  I really couldn’t talk about it much. Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I was afraid of transparency, or seeming unprofessional (you all know me far too well by now for that). Not because there wasn’t plenty to say. No. What kept me quiet was this: for the most part, there wasn’t a blessed thing I could do about any of it, so there was no point nattering on and on and on about it.

We often have very little control, not just at work, but in life in general. In this particular instance, I had no control over a long list of things that started with public opinion and ended with the library board’s decision. The only things I really had any control over while my library’s fate hung in the balance were:

a) my attitude, and
b) my job performance

That can be a hard, hard lesson to learn, and the discernment process of figuring out just what you have control over, and what you don’t, can be an arduous one. Luckily for us, we have Janet Jackson for comic relief, er, an aural cue. The shadow side of that, of course, is that my determination to be one of the people at the table for these bigger-picture control issues just redoubled. Heaven help us all.

There are no extra laurels awarded for behaving well, of course. This is part and parcel of professionalism. It’s called “being a grown-up,” and the only reason I mention it is because, again, it would be rather silly to blog merrily along without acknowledging the whole affair.

All that being said, my sense of relief is palpable. We’ve bought another year, and there’s so much to do. I have a lot of ideas and questions and thoughts and philosophical ramblings about things we could do in the hopper, many of which I’ll share with you in 2010.

Best of all, nobody is going to lose her/his job; given that the proposed layoffs would probably have disproportionately affected the blog team, this relieves me more than I can say. My blog team rules. They represent a bright future for library science, and I didn’t want to lose any of them. Color me super-relieved.

And now, honestly? I’d really like to stop talking about it. Because there is. So. Much. To do!  And so many other things to write about, such as:

  • big, fat scary ideas
  • coffee and libraries
  • your holiday presents (you’re welcome :) )
  • the MILLION DOLLARS IN FINES people owe us (oy)
  • a neat library resource
  • the best committee ever (no lie)
  • yet another crazy idea for 2010

Can we squeeze it all in before the end of the year?  We shall see.  If not…well, there’s no rush, is there?  Of course not.

See you next week.

2 Comments

Science / Silence: Notes on a Media Fast

December 4, 2009 at 5:39 pm (Facebook, creativity, fiction, humor, news, personal, philosophizing, professional development, reader's advisory, reviews, traditional library services)

One of my favorite short stories is Ray Bradbury’s “The Pedestrian.”  In a future world, where everyone lives for television, Leonard Mead likes to go walking alone at night.  During one of his pedestrian jaunts, he is arrested and sent to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.  After all, why would anyone wish to be out in the moonlight, drinking in the air, when s/he could be inside staring at a shiny box?

Perhaps I’m exaggerating just a bit for effect, but I felt a little bit like Leonard Mead last week when I gave up media consumption, for science.  If embracing technology is progressive, and eschewing it is regressive, I wanted to create my own little Center for Regressive Tendencies and see what horrible things would happen as a result of stepping out of the lifestream for a little while.

I’m pleased to report that nobody died, and nothing caught fire.  I did, however, learn a lot about my media consumption patterns, including a few things that surprised me.  And, because I’m human, I totally fell off the wagon on one memorable occasion…but in an unexpected way.

Positive effects

Overall, it was a relief to step away from the near-constant stream of news and information modern culture provides.  While I missed the psychological rituals around reading a print newspaper, for example, doing without the actual content made me feel lighter and happier.  Not once was I tempted to skim news online.  Co-workers, most of whom didn’t know I was media fasting, clued me in on everything important happening locally and nationally, so I was still able to discuss current events with patrons. 

When I did engage with job-related technology functions, I did so with a critical eye toward how much time I spent doing it, and whether or not it was to my ultimate benefit.  After two days of analyzing job-related newsreading, I was able to unsubscribe from a lot of services, as they were either repetitive or not adding value to my workday.  I found out I could fuss over Eleventh Stack and CLPicks much less than I do, and still maintain high standards.  Best of all, I felt a lot less frazzled and a lot more clear-headed.  It’s one thing to know, logically, that you can’t process all the information that’s out there; it’s another thing entirely to feel the practical effects of voluntarily limiting what you consume.

At the reference desk, I turned the media fast into a creative challenge:  how many questions could I answer without turning to the world wide web or a database?  Many of them, as it turns out.  Never underestimate the power of the humble dictionary, thesaurus, almanac, phone book, and encyclopedia to get you what you need.  At my library, we also keep Consumer Reports (including the buying guides), Morningstar and ValueLine at desk reference too, and with good reason, because they’re asked for a lot. 

[What's interesting there is that even when we let people know they have web options for accessing these materials, 9 times out of 10 they still prefer print - just life in the magic print-centric bubble that is Pittsburgh, I reckon...but I digress.]

Overall, I found myself slowing down more, paying closer attention to things, and, as a result, becoming a lot more efficient and effective.  I was even able to make time to do things I’ve been trying to do for months, like reorganizing my work space.   This tendency carried over to personal projects I’d been working on, allowing me to win National Novel Writing Month three days early, finish a number of other writing tasks, and spend a lot more time with my family, friends, and cats. I walked for miles and miles, because I could, and I even made homemade pizza crusts for the first time in years (until you’ve tasted my homemade pizzas, you simply cannot understand what a boon this is to humanity).

Loveliest of all, I read a lot of books.  Slowly.  In print.  I savored every moment I could spent with a physical text object in my hands, curled up in a comfy place, with coffee by my side.   Here’s a partial list:

The Adept, Kurtz/Harris. First in a series. Fantasy fiction, but with a tone like Alexander McCall Smith’s Isabel Dalhousie series. If you like your magick high, crispy and historically accurate, you might enjoy this one.

The Ancient Mysteries Reader, Haining, ed. Poe! Machen! Bulwer-Lytton! Love! Er, that is to say, if you fancy rare 19th-century gems of fact and fiction, this is your book.

Rainbow’s End, Vinge. This one’s singular: loads of conspiracy theory and politics wrapped around medical advances that incorporate technology with humanity. Oh, and a white rabbit. A lovely, head-scratcher of a novel for those who like their sci-fi complicated and a touch pessimistic.

The Stories of John Cheever. For my fiction class, but no less lovely for all that. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed classic stories like “The Enormous Radio” and “The Swimmer.” It was lovely, too, to discover just how deeply his gifts ran through the canon of his work. They don’t write ‘em like that anymore.

Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos, various. Some Clark Ashton Smith stories that were “new to me,” as well as My First Machen (and if that’s not yet a stuffed animal, look out patent office, because here I come). Lovecraft is okay, I suppose, but I’m far fonder of what his friends and literary descendants did with what he gave them.

The Complete Stories, O’Connor. Also for my fiction class. When you read Flannery O’Connor, you can feel the genius rising up from the page. What’s most beautiful about this collection is the arrangement, which follows the order of original publication. Best of all, the first story in the collection, “The Geranium”–which appeared as part of O’Connor’s MFA thesis–grows and blossoms into “Judgement Day,” a revision she published near the end of her life. Beautiful fiction, bookended by the growth of genius. Also, peacocks!

Desert Gothic, Waters. This prizewinning short story collection caught my eye by virtue of its title, and kept my eye by virtue of its attention to characterization. Rarely does one care so much about the people one meets in short stories, but I found myself almost believing they were real (no mean feat, given my cynical, critical eye). “Mr. Epstein and the Dealer” and “Mineral and Steel” are the standouts here, but the whole collection is a solid way to pass the time, if you like quality short fiction.

The Elegant Gathering of White Snows, Radish. Reviewed this for Eleventh Stack. I have nothing to add but this: sisterhood is powerful.

I’ll spare you the non-fiction picks. Interested parties please ping – if I took the time to list them, we’d be here all night! Suffice to say, with so many good books to read, being without technology was mostly no problem. There were, however, one or two glitches in the system.

“Negative” Effects

Perhaps “uncomfortable” is a better word. See for yourself.

While most of the media fast proved beneficial, there were some less-than-pleasant aspects to it.  For one thing, about four days in, I started really missing Facebook.

When you get to be my age–suffice to say I’m one of those people over thirty you’re not supposed to trust–you know a lot of people.  Not as many as those of you further along in life, but a lot.  And, the economy being what it is, not all of them live in Pittsburgh.  Thanks to Facebook, I’m in close contact with people from grade school chums through library school peers.  Having them all in the same place is even better, because then they get to meet each other; it makes me deeply happy to know that I’ve introduced tons of people who originally had nothing but me in common, and now have solid, established friendships of their own.

So, solitary creature that I am, I still enjoy being social, on my own terms, and Facebook made that easy.  Without it–even though I had a pretty full social calendar–I still felt disconnected from a lot of people I care about.  Avoiding it was psychologically challenging, and when I logged in at the end of the week, I felt re-connected…even though, technically, I hadn’t missed anything life or career-changing.

I also missed YouTube like crazy.  As, I suspect, a compensation for my extremely poor eyesight, I’m very sensitive to sound, highly musical.  There’s always a tune in my head, and I like to listen to music while I do mundane tasks.

A little silence was wholesome and beneficial for me, to be sure.  The funny thing about silence, though, is that the more you have of it, the more clarity you achieve in certain areas…and that cuts both ways.  I had a number of epiphanies, both bright and dark, and learned quite a few things about myself that I didn’t even realize I was covering up by having a constant soundtrack.  Ultimately this is for the good, but it was a somewhat uncomfortable process to go through.

Finally, I did fall off the wagon once, in a very big way that I did not expect.

My dislike of television is legendary around here.  I don’t own a set, and I’m really fussy about what series I check out on DVD.  This could be because, television-wise, I’m a serial monogamist.  I like my Dr. Who old-school, my X-Files episodes with no UST whatsoever, and my vampires non-negotiably non-sparkly, kthnxbye. I am, in short, a television snob.

And then, straight out of left field, Torchwood.

I’d been on hold for this forever, as the wait list was very long. I had no way of knowing my number would come up during my media fast. I was just going to watch one episode anyway, to be polite, and not hurt a co-worker’s feelings. So I figured this would be no big deal, a teensy little rule-break.

I didn’t expect to fall in love with the darn thing. Much like meeting the perfect romantic partner when you least expect it, watching Torchwood hit me like a ton of bricks, and I am now an unapologetic, unabashed Capt. Jack Harkness fangirl.

Darn you, sir. Darn you all to heck! You know who you are. :)

In all seriousness, this isn’t really a bad thing either. Quality television shows are rare, and since nobody will sell me an a la carte package with just BBC America in it, I’m always grateful to get the scoop on the good stuff. But do I really need to get sucked into another television show? What about all the writing I need to do, and all those as-yet unkneaded homemade pizza crusts?

Sigh.

Outcomes

I’ve come away from this little experiment more convinced than ever that there are definite benefits to putting limits on one’s media intake and social technology consumption.  At the same time, I’ve also come to realize just how much I depend on certain media for some things, and am actively questioning whether or not that’s what I really want.

In other words, moderation and critical thinking, two things that seem sorely lacking from many fields of discourse these days.  It’s unfortunate that moving more slowly on some matters, or exhibiting  a degree of skepticism and/or scientific inquiry, is perceived as regressive.  I’m a huge fan of changes and advances, but, I would argue, those changes and advances should be playtested.  Anything embraced uncritically, and without limits, has the potential to do great harm.

Indeed, I think, it gives us societies like the one that scorned poor Leonard Mead.  Enchanted by the glow from their television sets, the deluded populace probably never stopped to consider the moon.  Let us hope that, as library scientists, we can apply the same standards to our own media participation, keep what is useful, and reject what is, ultimately, distracting us from the other valuable realities all around us.

In other words, seriously, you need to try one of my homemade pizzas.  Just call or text before you come over; I might be watching Torchwood.

Things I want to write about at some point include:

  • the day I spent at my library as a patron instead of a worker
  • how a library vibe differs from a coffeeshop vibe, IMHO, and why the twain should not necessarily meet
  • a news update from the big white elephant, who was recently put on a diet (whew)

Until next week sometime, however, I remain your cheerfully irreverent alchemist.  Have a good weekend!

6 Comments

Straight to Pink, Fade to Black

November 20, 2009 at 7:00 am (humor, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Part the First:  Keeping Up Apperances

In a perfect world, we would never be judged by our appearances, ever.  In the world in which we operate, we run the risk of not being taken seriously by our professional peers if we look too far afield of whatever passes for the norm in our library.  Public librarians tend to have a bit more latitude in this regard…depending, of course, on where their library is.  Two phrases that inevitably pop up whenever the discourse runs down this track are “professional demeanor” and “community standards.”

My own theory on this point is that, if you choose a look that’s out of the mainstream, you’d better be prepared to work twice as hard to demonstrate what a great worker you are.   Unfair, perhaps, but unavoidable.  Alas, I lack empirical evidence with which to back up this theory.

That’s where you come in.   Participation in the “Straight to Pink” poll will, hopefully, net a cross-section of opinions and experiences from which we can hope to derive some sort of consensus…or at least start an interesting discussion about something different for a change!

So, for science, here’s your poll:

I tried to take into account all possible scenarios, but if there’s an angle I’ve overlooked, I’d love to hear about it in the comments field.  And please note that I don’t really have a dog in this particular race; with me, it’s not a question of whether I’ll be outrageous, but, rather, when.  I’m thinking, for example, that the time to switch to an astonishing haircolor is after achieving a major goal, and not before.

Part the Second:  Media Fasting

Next week’s experiment is a media fast, as described here.

In some ways this will be “easy.”  I’m already TV-free (gotta love library DVDs), and on the rare occasions I listen to the radio, I listen online.  All I really had to do was cancel my newspaper for a week, and set up parameters for internet usage:  I can use the web for anything job-related, but nothing personal.  The only exception I’m making is updating my NaNoWriMo word count, since I’d already committed to doing that this month.

Again, this is for science.  You see, I remember the time before, when we didn’t have all of this fun stuff.  I want to create a little wayback machine and see if I can rediscover how I spent my time before Facebook, RSS feeds, Twitter and, heaven help me, all those online games I play.  I suspect I read more books, completed more craft projects, worked more crossword puzzles, and spent more time with my friends.  We shall see.

But LAV, you might protest, why would you do that to yourself?  We have all this shiny stuff now, and it’s marvelous!  For the most part, yes, that’s true.  We have some great shiny stuff, and it IS marvelous.  However, it is not the only thing in life that is marvelous.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  while I’m open to innovation and change, I fear that, culturally, we are throwing out the baby with the bathwater, privileging certain kinds of experience over others that still have much to offer.  I want empirical evidence about how I spent my time when the technology is not an option.  I want to see if I experience “technology withdrawal” or not, and I want to see what, if anything, I really miss by being away from the whole shebang for a week.

I’ll report back on the 30th, or thereabouts, and tell you how it went.  In my absence, I hope those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving have a lovely holiday.

4 Comments

Library Alchemy Outsourced to Alchemy Cats, Inc.

September 16, 2009 at 5:17 pm (blogging, humor, leadership, personal)

Greetings, gentle reader.  I am writing to inform you that, as of this afternoon, the Library Alchemy blog has been outsourced to Alchemy Cats, Inc. 

As co-owner and chief literary cat of Alchemy Cats, Inc., I would like to apologize on behalf of my mistress, the Library Alchemist.  However, she is currently steeped in a higher-than-usual number of tasks and responsibilities.  This is regrettable but, alas, part and parcel of being a public librarian in the last state to pass its budget.  Ergo, my lady is:

  • scenario planning
  • writing her legislators and governor
  • attending meetings, meetings, meetings
  • performing reference, reference, reference
  • mentoring, mentoring, mentoring
  • filling out 1/4 of the 23 Things CE certificates
  • number-crunching as fast as she can
  • making the most of what’s left of her book budget

And so on.  You get the idea.  Many of you are, to be sure, in the same boat, with the exception that your state had the good taste and breeding to pass a budget in a reasonable amount of time.

Despair not, however!  Alchemy Cats, Inc. is committed to delivering the same high-quality content as Library Alchemy, with the exception of the increasingly frequent references to tuna, naps, and polls about which surfaces in milady’s house are most fun to jump on top of.  My sister insists the windowsill holds pride of place, while I am a staunch defender of the Kingdom of Fridge-top, from which I survey my domain with the hauteur that befits a gentlecat.

To your health, and to the amusement that is sure to result from this outsourcing!  I remain, your humble servant,

Steve “Smoky-cat” McQueen, bart.

for Luscious “Lucky-cat” Jackson, and

LAV, the Library Alchemist

[The moral of this little story is, of course, that if you have a choice between laughter or despair, you should always choose laughter.  I'm staging a coup, and will, hopefully, wrestle the blog back from the feline contingent sometime after October 5].

4 Comments

In Praise of Silence (But Not Shushing)

September 10, 2009 at 7:43 pm (Facebook, Library 2.0, Twitter, humor, intellectual freedom, personal, philosophizing, traditional library services)

Think you of the fact that a deaf person cannot hear. What senses, then, do we lack that we cannot see and hear another world all around us?”

–Frank Herbert, Dune

The reference room is quiet tonight.  The sound of my fingers flying over the keys is probably the loudest, although there are other typists.  Readers rustle pages.  Pencils skitter across notebooks.  Occasionally someone asks a question, and your alchemist tries to answer in her indoor voice.  Call it 4′ 33″ 2.0, if you will.  Just don’t call it a scandal, or a sign of irrelevance, because it’s actually quite beautiful, if you open yourself up to it.

There have been a number of high-profile news articles lately about old-school vs. new-jack libraries; excitement and razzle-dazzle vs. “musty” books, and people with “strange attachments” to them.  I ask, once again, why we must have an either-or library.  I wonder why we cannot have both.

I am, as ever, biased.  My craving for silence makes Jean Valjean’s bread-lust look downright tame.   But we are now, for the most part, hyper-connected, 24/7, and working with technology makes me grow weary of it, occasionally.  It is challenging, sometimes, to drag myself away from the tweets, the status updates, the never-ending flow of information and hype, and carve out space and time for quiet reflection.

What would we hear, I wonder, if we were more open to and accepting of silence in our libraries?  Is it possible that the silence that’s become so reviled and scorned of late has something to teach us?  That it gives shape to the sounds?  What if we had libraries with warmer, more animated spaces for the extroverts and cooler, quieter places for the introverts?  Just because you noisy lot outnumber us 3 to 1 doesn’t mean we don’t get a vote!

Perhaps that’s a stretch.  Still, the concept of a media fast, as articulated by Julia Cameron and Gregg Levoy, is starting to sound awfully attractive to me.  One week with no newspapers, no internet, no texts, no tweets, no cheeps, no beeps, not a single lux-ur-ee.   Status update:  unplugged.  Achievement:  serenity? 

Let’s take that heretical thought and stretch it a wee bit further:  could you go 40 days, say, with no e-mail, no cell phone, no emerging technologies?  Would you feel alienated, disconnected?  Or would you trust that the news you needed to know would find you?

A moment of silence, for silence, please.  It’s an endangered species in a loud, crazymaking world.  I am all for progress in the form of cheerful, welcoming spaces, and our libraries should most definitely have those.  I would argue, however, that excising our remaining quiet sanctuaries is equally unwelcoming.  If the user experience is meant to be paramount, then that should include all users, not just the ones who prefer noise.

I know, I know.  Worst librarian 2.0 EVAR!  My defense is that I’m aiming for 3.0. :)

Have the rowdy or restful weekend of your choice, and we’ll talk again soon.

7 Comments

She shoots, she scores: goals ‘an @

September 8, 2009 at 5:07 pm (Learning 2.0, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development, religion)

Goals:  they’re not just for hockey anymore!

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

  1. 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.
  2. Seek out additional leadership training opportunities.  One leadership institute (and two months supervising an intern) does not an expert make.
  3. 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.
  4. Review in an additional genre, and be accepted as a reviewer by an additional publication.   Why not do more of what I love?
  5. 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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.

What are your goals for 2010?

2 Comments

Dances With Vendors: Confessions of a Clumsy Alchemist

August 27, 2009 at 5:43 pm (Facebook, Learning 2.0, databases, ethics, humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, presentations, professional development)

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

  1. 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.
  2. 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)!!
  3. 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.
  4. 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. 
  5. 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.
  6. 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.”
  7. 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.

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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. 
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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:

Happy dancing, and I’ll see you next week.

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Mistakes, mentoring, management, magic

August 21, 2009 at 4:17 pm (humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Random thoughts on my mind at the end of a busy week:

Mistakes

Everybody makes them.  I fervently wish I were the person my cats think I am, and if I had a dollar for every time I’ve goofed, I’d have plenty of startup capital for my goat farm.  No, making mistakes is not the issue, really – it’s bouncing back from them successfully that counts.

My SOP for mistake-making is to take corrective action and/or come up with a solution ASAP, and then ‘fess up to all the stakeholders.  Finding a solution is key, I think, even more so than the ‘fessing up:  bosses love solutions.  If you must bring them a problem, it looks a lot more palatable if you’ve got it bundled with potential solutions.

Of course, correcting the patterns that led to your mistake in the first place is always a good idea–that way, when you inevitably err again, you will at least be making different mistakes.

Mentoring 

I’m of the opinion that everybody is your mentor, whether or not you (or they) realize it.  The flip side of that, of course, is that you are always teaching somebody something, either by word or example.  What are you teaching people today?  What would you like to be teaching them?

I have more thoughts on formal mentoring, but I want to save them until next week, so I can time them with an upcoming Eleventh Stack post.

Management

This is related to the first two ruminations in that I’ve noticed something:  more and more of my job has been revolving around the soft skills, rather than what most people think of as library work (either old-school OR new-jack).  I’m still working the desk, ordering books, and exploring emerging technologies, but slowly the bulk of my projects has involved meetings, negotiations, and–for lack of a better term–organizational politics. 

The learning curve on those skills seems to be steeper, and comes with a higher price – if you bobble a blog post or miscatalog a book, it’s “no harm, no foul.”  If you don’t listen, or don’t communicate well, or otherwise mismanage people skills, the consequences can be a little more serious…unless you’ve also learned to apologize well.  Given that you will make mistakes, it’s probably also helpful if you’ve mastered “Don’t Take It Personally 101″ and “Check Your Pride 202.”

Magic

Back in the day, men–and it usually was men–who fancied themselves magicians would write up all their know-how into big black books they called grimoires.  These books were filled with symbols and formulae, as well as a lot of nonsense, hooey, folderol and misdirection, and knowing their contents–whether or not they actually worked, which they frequently didn’t–was the gold standard for being a good magician.

Nowadays we have science to explain things we used to call magic, and other terms to explain things we still don’t understand, but don’t feel comfortable calling magic.  I would argue that there is still magic in the world, and that a great deal of it resides in libraries.  In our mad rush to discover the magic in library books, however, we often overlook the potential for magic in library people.  In that respect, we are mostly Mickeys, clueless, but utterly adorable in our oversized robes and wizard hats, struggling to tame the buckets and brooms we have unwittingly brought to life with our careless words, and thoughtless actions.

Too cynical?  Maybe.  But them’s my thinks!  Next week I want to talk about the experience of having an intern.  I’ve never worked with anyone in that capacity before, and it has been very educational.  After that, we’ll see if I can’t get back to something a little more “librarian-y.”

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Stay Classy, Girlfiend: Keeping Your Cool in a Budget Crisis

August 13, 2009 at 4:49 pm (ethics, humor, leadership, management, personal, philosophizing, professional development)

Each day, some time each hour, brings change.
Dune, Frank Herbert

One of my favorite fallback chestnuts is Oscar Wilde’s oft-repeated epithet that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.  I tried to keep this in mind when I found out that my library’s funding crisis had made headlines at Library Journal.  On the one hand, it’s good to have our problems taken seriously by a national professional publication.  On the other hand, given what an amazing library we have, and how many amazing people are doing (wait for it) amazing things within its current limitations, it’s kind of a downer not to get press for all of those wonderful things instead.

A stellar example:  one of my peers, a man far too modest to ever speak up and tell anyone about this, is ranked SECOND in the ENTIRE STATE for number of questions answered on AskHere PA, the Pennsylvania virtual reference service.  Yes, that’s the same service some PA legislators want to cut from the budget entirely; my peer has answered thousands of questions for Pennsylvanians in need, and he’ll be number one any day now…if I don’t catch him first.  Nothing spurs excellence like a little friendly competition.   :)

But I digress.  For good or ill, the news is what it is.  And since so many other libraries are in the same boat (notably Omaha Public )I thought it might be useful to spend some time talking about coping strategies.  Everyone handles stress and uncertainty in their own way, but I think the potential wisdom library workers can glean from that venerable sage, Kenny Rogers, should not be underestimated:

Step 1:  Know When to Hold ‘Em

Your snarky comments, that is.  There’s a time and a place for snark, but when the pressure’s on and the future’s uncertain, do you really want to be the spark that touches off your problem patron’s bad behaviors, or your fragile co-worker’s last nerve?  Take an extra five seconds before you open your mouth, and apply the following criteria to everything you say:

  • Is it true?
  • Is it necessary?
  • Is it kind?
  • Is it the right moment?

These questions, otherwise known as the Four Gates of Speech, have been attributed to both Buddhist and Sufi thought; however, many religious and ethical platforms contain some variant of right speech, so hopefully asking yourself these questions isn’t too far out of your comfort zone.  And remember:  the life you save may be your own!

Part 2:  Know When to Fold ’Em

This time we’re talking about your responsibilities.  During times of struggle, your workload can start to seem overwhelming.  Now is the time to talk to your colleagues, your boss, and your peers in other departments (or possibly other libraries) about how you can collaborate on projects and work together for the common good.  Start looking at ways you can work WITH and FOR each other to get things done.  One of the biggest pitfalls in a budget crisis is that people have a tendency to start freaking out over the unknown, and worrying about what’s going to happen to them personally.  If you put the focus back on the patrons, on making the best of a bad situation, on getting the job done, you minimize the individual freakouts.  Yes, socialism CAN be a good thing, if it’s in the interest of keeping your patrons happy, and your blood pressure down!

Part III:  Know When to Walk Away

From triggers, I mean.  Now more than ever you should be conscious of your weak points and be willing to ask for help.  If Mister So-And-So drives you absolutely nutty at the desk, DON’T try to help him - grab a peer.  If a co-worker just can’t let up with the doom and gloom, stop eating lunch when s/he does, or change your coffee run time so you don’t see each other as often.  You are probably never going to be able to change other people’s behaviors, so, for your own sanity, make the changes that will safeguard your weaknesses until you can transform them into strengths.

Part IV:  Know When to Run

For your boss, silly.  Maybe you’ve done everything right so far and you’re still having problems coping.  This is where your boss comes in.  Don’t be concerned about bothering her/him – they pay her/him the “big library bucks” to LEAD and MANAGE  you.  Listening to your concerns is part of that deal.  Stop by–or make an appointment, if s/he’s a touch more formal–and have a chat.  Express concerns.  Ask questions.  Blow off steam.  Have the humility to know when you need the wisdom and discernment a supervisor can provide.

If you absolutely positively feel you can’t talk to your boss?  Well, that’s a whole separate blog post – but don’t despair!  Surely there is somebody in your organization whom you trust?  Somebody who’s a model of leadership and kindness and humor and patience and win?  Make time to have coffee with that person.  Take a walk around the building.  Go out to lunch, get away from the office for a little while.  Speak, from your heart, about what’s going on with you and what you need to keep going.  And, it goes without saying, be willing to reciprocate for your peers if they should see you as a beacon of helpfulness.

One of my very first library bosses  taught me the most valuable coping philosophy I’ve ever heard.  “It’ll be fine,” she reassured me.  “And if it’s not fine, it’ll be over.”   The first time she said this, your alchemist–with her penchant for broody humor–laughed outright, because it’s true!  The only constant in life is change, and right now in library world that tendency’s been ramped up to the max.  When so much is out of your personal control, doesn’t it make sense to identify those things that are, and work ‘em to the best of your ability?

Oh, and that subject header?  Definitely not a typo.  Just today at the refdesk I fired off an emergency e-mail to a colleague, asking to be relieved 10 minutes early so I could get out of the hotseat.  The reference room was full, the waiting line for computers was four-deep, and terminals kept dropping out of the CybraryN queue.  Some poorly-behaved person walked off with a mouse, effectively taking a computer out of play while we waited for a replacement.  Other patrons chose to say unkind things, and I nearly burst into tears…but just being able to ask for help, and knowing there were people around to help me, helped me stay classy and get over the rough spot.

How are you coping with your library’s budget crisis?  Are you an optimist, a pessimist, a realist?  What’s helping you soldier on through?  I know you lot generally err on the side of comment-shy, but I hope just this once you’ll make an exception.

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Indeed A Stage: Librarians and Theater

August 10, 2009 at 2:18 pm (Library 2.0, creativity, humor, innovation, personal, philosophizing, presentations, professional development, theatre)

Well, that was fun!  But, all good things must come to an end.  I really enjoyed being on stage again after — yikes! — twelve years.  I suppose it’s less than that, given that I performed at Friday Nite Improvs for a few years. But it’s been more than a decade since I had to memorize a script and put on multiple shows in a weekend.  I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until I started rehearsing, too.

At this point you might be saying to yourself, “Well, dear, that’s very sweet and all, but shouldn’t you go back to being a grown-up now?”  I suppose I should, rather.  Still, there are plenty of grown-up, sophisticated library bloggers about–I’ve decided that I’d much rather be the holistic type who tries to convince you that things like theater and improv could actually be good for your career.

Consider the reference librarian.  S/he frets and struts an hour or two upon the refdesk, then is no more (presumably s/he’s in a back office somewhere, ordering books, attending meetings, ripping her/his hair out, etc.).  S/he has scheduled entrances and exits, and when s/he’s at the desk, s/he has a role to play.

Occasionally these roles are scripted; more often, they’re improvisational.  You have a situation/location (the reference desk) and a relationship (librarian/patron).  Although there are a number of different shapes the conversation could take (Where’s the bathroom?  Do you have Jane Eyre? Does this reference book make my bag look fat?), you have absolutely no idea what any given person is going to say to you, and you have to be ready to respond in the moment.

One thing I love about improv is its reliance on “Yes, and.”  In the best improv scenes, the partners roll with the reality of the situation no matter how far-fetched it becomes.  “Did you steal a kidney from the transplant truck? ”  “Yes, and I wanted you to see it first–happy anniversary, honey!”  Hopefully nobody is bringing transplant organs to your desk, but they are bringing you a lot of other transactions where “Yes, and” is an appropriate response.  For example:

“Do you have The Castle of Otranto?” Yes, and you might also like The Mysteries of Udolpho, Northanger Abbey, or The Monk!

“Is there a bathroom on this floor?” Yes, and I’d be happy to show you where it is.

“Can I take books out of this section?” Yes, and nearly all of the other books on this floor are available for checkout, too.

“How many items can I take out at a time?” 50, (yes implied) and that total includes 10 DVDs, 10 CDs, etc.

The skeptical among you might be wondering, “Okay Tallulah Bankhead, what about those of us who don’t work in public service?”  Just because you don’t work directly with the public doesn’t mean you’re never going to be asked to give a presentation or, at the very least, speak in a meeting.  In fact, the amount of public service you do seems to be inversely proportionate to the number of meetings you must attend (I’d like a grant to study this — wouldn’t you?).  Why not get over your fears by trying out a few improv games?   At the very least, your next staff meeeting / training will be the one your colleagues will discuss for years to come.  “Remember back in the summer of aught-nine, when Tallulah had us play ‘Freeze’?  Good times!”

One shameless omission from both lists is “Questions,” in which the scene partners can only speak in queries.  This is a lot harder than it sounds, but a great way to break your brain out of its usual channels and stimulate some creative thinking.  And isn’t that something else we Librarians 2.0 are supposed to be doing?

Future posts will, I promise, be more “normal,” but I think the most important thing my return to the stage has taught me is that the boundaries between work and home are a lot more porous than most of us imagine.  After all, it’s not like we completely shed our personalities when we step into our offices–decorum might suggest we keep certain things under wraps, and tact will always be a huge part of professionalism.  Still, we are who we are, quirks, personalities, interests, and all.  I’m in favor of a holistic paradigm of library science, where who we are outside of our offices can feed and nurture the kinds of things we do inside of them.

Just a theory.  What sorts of things do you do in your leisure time that sustain your workday persona?

Back later this week with more whimsical thoughts…

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