It’s been a busy summer at my place of work. My library branch has been renovated so I was off at other branches with nary a desk to call my own while working on all the projects our leadership decided to cram into the end of a five year strategic plan cycle. Now I’m back at my home branch, I have a toilet stall sized cubicle to work in, and the main time-suck since June has turned out as crappy as we’d been warning everyone who had any power to effect change we could. (We filled spreadsheets with the software’s failures to deliver what was on our RFP, but it remained awful.) Now because the public hated it as much as we did, the library’s going back to the old discovery layer meaning that all that work our team put in was ignored and then proven right but still ignored because we didn’t cc the mayor with our complaints.
It’s hard to be really enthusiastic about work in this kind of situation.
But for some reason, I’ve been having a good week. I think it’s just that the branch is open now. I’m not in a caretaker role, intruding on someone else’s space. This is my branch where I get to do my programs and talk to my users. It’s one of those things that sometimes makes me feel a bit like I shouldn’t be a librarian, that emphasis on “My” stuff since we’re supposed to be all about sharing and collaboration and have no egos and not give a fuck about not having an office.
It’s probably just that the branch is open and even though we have a third of the books we did pre-renovation and the place is echoey as fuck, there are people in the library. People I can help. Doing that front-line helping is the thing that gets me through all the behind the scenes workplace shit.
Put me on the desk; I must be some sort of public servant. (Plus it gets me out of that fucking cubicle.)