madam librarian!
Libraries are reserved, still places, and the people who inhabit them can seem like whispers of themselves. Most of us can take refuge in the hush and thoughtfulness of these institutions, and enjoy a brief sabbatical from the hurried life we may lead.
Working in one is a different thing altogether. I have learned I'm something of an extrovert. Not a loudly wild one, but definitely I do get energy from being around others. I long to be with my friends and to make new ones. This is kind of frustrating thing to discover about oneself and then to go to work in a library. Not exactly a bubbling pot of society. But I do love my job.
I find myself going into the break room before my workday begins, scrolling through the news on my phone at one of it's tables and talking to whoever walks in to put their lunch in the break room fridge. "Hi! Good morning," I say. I get a sideways glance and a hello from the more sociable people.
Once in my cubicle, I resign myself to a few hours of quiet, where I can work and listen to a podcast or one of our audio books from the library. I sometimes deliver mail and catch the librarians talking at their desks in hushed tones about things I can only imagine. I always keep an ear out for voices at the copier and fax machine. They are soft and hard to detect, but they are there. Good thing I have such great hearing. Sometimes vacations get discussed, places to eat. But usually by co-workers who haven't quite let me into their circle - yet. They've worked together for years, some for a couple of decades.
I come out from my confines to check for a fax that hasn't arrived, in hopes of striking up a quick conversation to sustain me. It happens every once in a while - like twice a month. I have taken to talking to the elevator, who speaks in a British accent.
"Going down," it says pleasantly. "First floor."
"Hello elevator," I say. "Ground floor, please."
A man appears as the door opens on the first floor. "Going down," he says in a fake British accent. He gets on the elevator. "It likes to be talked to," he says.
"I know," I say in a Seinfeld imitation. "I knooow." We travel in silence and both exit on the ground floor.
One of our elevators has both front and back doors. There are floors listed such as 6S on this elevator, even though we only have four floors. Or so the common man thinks. Mysterious. The back door leads into the archives. When it opens for those on board with a special security clearance, I see the space is lit differently and a blast of cold air enters the elevator. This is how I imagine the entrance to Narnia.
There is a time to be social at the library. Once a month birthdays are celebrated all day long in the breakroom by the individual departments. I have learned the trick is to go into the breakroom when others are gathered. This requires some special listening for voices in the hallway.
There are also quarterly receptions where new employees are introduced and the Employee of the Quarter is recognized. This month ours will happen with an ice cream social and I think I will be almost giddy to be around that many talking people at once, and to be introduced into the society of the library. I may have to get a new dress for the occasion.
At home my old pine desk is currently littered with receipts, stock reports, photos, catalogs and coupons for pet medications; left with just enough room for a laptop. At work my workspace is organized, compartmentalized. I have five stamps, each with it's own role. I have a pencil for marking data on my calendar, and 3 colored pens for various tasks, as well as a black sharpie and yellow highlighter - also for special assignments. I have two staplers, one for each side of my cubicle, I suppose. Don't be jealous. I added two framed photos of my family which sit next to my computer screen. I log in ten minutes early every day and usually leave a minute after noon. I take a fifteen minute break at 10:15, during which I go to the first floor break room and eat those orange peanut butter cracker sandwiches from the vending machine which probably cause cancer. I call my boys. I drink my water. Steve likens my breaks to those of the Transporter on his missions. You really can't get more exact. Or I can't.
I love the balance in my life, the quiet and orderly at work with the messy and happy at home. I love being surrounded by books, by people who appreciate them, and have the passion for others to read them as well. Part of my job is to review books for certain content, and it makes me happy to know I'm making a difference in what book gets picked up by who. Hopefully the pages they read will be like a little sunshine into their soul for those who need it.
Working in one is a different thing altogether. I have learned I'm something of an extrovert. Not a loudly wild one, but definitely I do get energy from being around others. I long to be with my friends and to make new ones. This is kind of frustrating thing to discover about oneself and then to go to work in a library. Not exactly a bubbling pot of society. But I do love my job.
I find myself going into the break room before my workday begins, scrolling through the news on my phone at one of it's tables and talking to whoever walks in to put their lunch in the break room fridge. "Hi! Good morning," I say. I get a sideways glance and a hello from the more sociable people.
Once in my cubicle, I resign myself to a few hours of quiet, where I can work and listen to a podcast or one of our audio books from the library. I sometimes deliver mail and catch the librarians talking at their desks in hushed tones about things I can only imagine. I always keep an ear out for voices at the copier and fax machine. They are soft and hard to detect, but they are there. Good thing I have such great hearing. Sometimes vacations get discussed, places to eat. But usually by co-workers who haven't quite let me into their circle - yet. They've worked together for years, some for a couple of decades.
I come out from my confines to check for a fax that hasn't arrived, in hopes of striking up a quick conversation to sustain me. It happens every once in a while - like twice a month. I have taken to talking to the elevator, who speaks in a British accent.
"Going down," it says pleasantly. "First floor."
"Hello elevator," I say. "Ground floor, please."
A man appears as the door opens on the first floor. "Going down," he says in a fake British accent. He gets on the elevator. "It likes to be talked to," he says.
"I know," I say in a Seinfeld imitation. "I knooow." We travel in silence and both exit on the ground floor.
One of our elevators has both front and back doors. There are floors listed such as 6S on this elevator, even though we only have four floors. Or so the common man thinks. Mysterious. The back door leads into the archives. When it opens for those on board with a special security clearance, I see the space is lit differently and a blast of cold air enters the elevator. This is how I imagine the entrance to Narnia.
There is a time to be social at the library. Once a month birthdays are celebrated all day long in the breakroom by the individual departments. I have learned the trick is to go into the breakroom when others are gathered. This requires some special listening for voices in the hallway.
There are also quarterly receptions where new employees are introduced and the Employee of the Quarter is recognized. This month ours will happen with an ice cream social and I think I will be almost giddy to be around that many talking people at once, and to be introduced into the society of the library. I may have to get a new dress for the occasion.
At home my old pine desk is currently littered with receipts, stock reports, photos, catalogs and coupons for pet medications; left with just enough room for a laptop. At work my workspace is organized, compartmentalized. I have five stamps, each with it's own role. I have a pencil for marking data on my calendar, and 3 colored pens for various tasks, as well as a black sharpie and yellow highlighter - also for special assignments. I have two staplers, one for each side of my cubicle, I suppose. Don't be jealous. I added two framed photos of my family which sit next to my computer screen. I log in ten minutes early every day and usually leave a minute after noon. I take a fifteen minute break at 10:15, during which I go to the first floor break room and eat those orange peanut butter cracker sandwiches from the vending machine which probably cause cancer. I call my boys. I drink my water. Steve likens my breaks to those of the Transporter on his missions. You really can't get more exact. Or I can't.
I love the balance in my life, the quiet and orderly at work with the messy and happy at home. I love being surrounded by books, by people who appreciate them, and have the passion for others to read them as well. Part of my job is to review books for certain content, and it makes me happy to know I'm making a difference in what book gets picked up by who. Hopefully the pages they read will be like a little sunshine into their soul for those who need it.