Librarian: Quest for the Job Part II

Yes! You have made it to the sequel. Aren't you excited? I dare hope so.

The last time we left our heroine (read: me) I had just discovered my calling to be a librarian. Upon waking the next morning my inkling had coagulated into a more discernable plan. I had decided that I would not just be any librarian - I'd be a young adult librarian. Mostly, I had fears that if I were to be an adult librarian I would be expected to read literature. I didn't want to do that. I like fantasy, mostly, and I'd heard that YA librarians played video games and planned Harry Potter parties. This sounded like the perfect job.

I returned to the career counselor's office and handed her back the books, telling her I'd found my perfect profession. She smiled, politely, probably assuming I was off to make my mark on the world as a grant writer.

Fast forward two years.

I had my plan. Unlike many of my friends and peers I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. How, then, could I have graduated from college and spent almost nine months searching for a job. At first, I'd been picky. I would only work in libraries or something that helped my credentials for librarianeering. Then, I relaxed it a little. If it made enough money, I reasoned, I could get through library school faster and get to do real librarian stuff. A month later I was listening to someone tell me how I, too, could be a successful financial advisor.

I had already started library school. I wanted to get on it as quickly as possible so I began classes only a month or so after college graduation. I had been working at Giant Eagle, my fallback job for the last two years, and looking for college-educated employment since January. I did everything right. I had a great resume - I'd done study abroad, internships and took leadership in student organizations in my undergraduate studies. I was a regular at career fairs and I always always followed up with employers. I must have had hundreds of applications in and I was so sick of sitting through tests at Cuyahoga Public Library that I wanted to scream and give up librarianeering forever.

I had about given up on ever rising above my station as a deli clerk when my YA professor announced a job at her husband's library. There was an opening for a YA associate. I didn't think I'd get it. I had suddenly realized I had no experience with teens other than working with cashiers at Giant Eagle and being a big sister. I decided I should start volunteering - anything to get the experience. When I got the interview for the YA associate position for the first time in my job hunt I was not confident - which translated into not being nervous. I left the library thinking that it was very nice and I'd like to work there, but that would probably be the last time I saw it.

Fast forward another week.

I was leaving for work at Giant Eagle. I worked 37 hours a week, just under what they could give me before I would get stuff like benefits. The phone rang and I yelled at my brother to get it. I was running late. He handed me the phone and I was not surprised to hear the voice of one of my interviewers. Oh, that's nice, I thought, usually they don't call to tell you they chose someone else. But, as you've guessed, she offered me the position. I luckily did not jump all over the room and scream like I'd won Publisher's Clearing House. I instead thanked her nicely and agreed to show up two weeks from the date.

So that's how I became a YA associate. I still work at Giant Eagle, though, because librarians do not make as much money as financial advisors. Or, probably, grant writers.

Happy Sir Eats-a-lot Day!

First of all, Happy Day of Turkeyness! Or Tofurkeyness if that's your kind of thing.

Second of all, I feel I must record the first of my victories as a YA associate. (Oops! I gave away the ending of my story-in-progress.) The first week I started I though that I should probably take initiative and try to immediately validate my presence on the staff. I emailed the local cinema (which shows all of two movies) and asked for two free passes a month that we could give away at various programs and for contests. Weeks passed and I heard nothing. I called once during that time, but was told he would call me back. It didn't happen. So I began to feel that my fresh eagerness had all been for naught. Then, last week I got a call back from the manager of the theatre. He was more than willing to help out and said my message had just ended up at the bottom of his inbox.

So joy! Now we have two passes a month to give away to bored teenagers. I'm thinking if we use them at programs that don't have as high of appeal as door prizes it might boost attendance. Maybe. I'll keep you posted.

The Librarian: Quest for the Job Part I

So you've read the last two entries (presumably) and wondered "Who the hell is this person?" The next series of posts will attempt to set your troubled mind at ease.

It all starts a few years ago. I was a young and naive undergrad studying International Studies. My counselors and professors had all told me "No problem! You can do whatever you want with whatever major you want! Want to be a doctor? All you need to know is the quadratic formula and Keats." That sounded good to me for awhile because... well, I wanted to believe it. Then I started talking to people outside the academic would and they had a different response to my enthusiastic optimism. They laughed.

My face grew cold. I started shaking. I couldn't sleep at night. I mean, what does one do with a degree in International Studies? I had staked my entire future on the possibility that there would suddenly be a huge demand for professional travellers in 2006. I didn't like law, I couldn't see myself teaching and I didn't want to get any closer to politics than my local polling booth. So, after several sleepless nights, knowing that the decision I made now, as a 20-year-old college student would irrevocably change my life, I knocked on the door of the career counselor. She was polite and happy and just as optimistic as everyone else at first, but then she noticed my trembling hands and surmised that I had seen through her glamour.

I sat perched on the edge of my seat like a baboon on heroin. "Well, what do you like to do?" she asked, politely.
"Um, read?" I asked. She nodded, politely encouraging me. "And knit. And watch movies. I like knowing random trivia and writing. Oh, and throwing theme parties that my friends all pretend they like."
She opened her book o' jobs and flipped it so it faced me. I expected it to glow as her perfectly manicured hand pointed to the title.

"Grant Writer"

Oh, I thought. I had expected something perfect and glamorous. Something that clicked in my head and made me shout "Hallelujah! I've found my calling!" This didn't do it, but then again we were being realistic here and I was pretty sure she kept the "Professional Traveller" guide sheet with "Actress," "Rich Folk-rock Singer" and "Unicorn Trainer." Well, I figured, I'd have to toughen up and accept the real world.

The next week I met with a real-life grant writer. She was very nice and described her job in detail while I nodded and tried to keep my eyes from glazing over. The interview went pretty badly. I even forgot to send her a card so professional humiliation was added to the list of reasons to avoid grant writing.

That night, I went home and sadly flipped through the career books I'd taken out. I was sure that my only other option was garbage person or politician. I was depressed. Then, I notice a faint shimmering between the pages. I turned back a few and there it was. Red lights surrounded the title and big sign said "ARE YOU STUPID?!" An arrow pointed from the sign to the title. "Librarian." Oh, I thought. Oh. That makes a lot of sense. I like to read and write. I enjoy researching, but not writing research papers. I like programming. I'm always suggesting books to people. I also, unbelievable, like working in retail.

I couldn't understand how I didn't think of it before. I mean, I spent hours every week in a library since I could remember. I saw librarians on a daily basis. One of my aunts had been a librarian and I'd been accused by my cousin just last Christmas of looking like a librarian. A wave of relief spilled over me. I wasn't going to have to change my major or spend extra time at my uber-expensive undergraduate school. Everything was going to be great. And for the first night, I slept well.

Exorcising my Personal Demons

My first week of library school (which I insist to prosepective students, is exactly like Hogwarts) I noticed something strange about Watchers. They speak an entirely different language and they don't even seem to notice it. Most notably, they pronounce everything. When I began, I innocently thought that the School of Library and Information Science was pronounced S-L-I-S. How silly of me. No, the Watchers (and the Watchers-to-be) around the joint call it"slis." Okay, I can see that. It's even kind of cute. Same with a Marc record or YALSA. It saves time and it flows, more or less. The interesting part is when they start trying to pronounce the unpronounceable. For example, OLC. Isn't it easier to just say O-L-C than to struggle with something that sounds like ohelk. I've heard it done. I promise. Or NOTSL. Ts and Ss were not meant to be pronounced in that order. One would presume, as Watchers, they know the rules of language. Apparently one would be mistaken.

Soon after joining the SLIS, I found myself sputtering along to the most common acronyms. I passed over the more difficult ones. I suppose I am not that librarian enough yet. I refuse to admit I ever would, but give it time. Eventually I will forget how normal people speak. Still, when I speak of librarianship those acronyms pepper my speech and confound the muggles. Generally, though, I do not speak of these things in proper company and so the threat was limited.

Then, I took a YA services course.

The acronyms here are not the problem. Really, there is not much extra offending vocabulary. Except for one word.

The E word.

Edgy.

I didn't even notice it at first. My professor started speaking about "edgy" literature and "edgy" clothing. I didn't recognize it as anything other than that professor's own peculiarity. But then I started reading YA blogs and publications. It is everywhere. Whenever anyone wants to push YA material. And the weird thing is, only YA Watchers use this word. Ever. I tried to explain the phenomenon to a coworker on the reference desk. "Edgy?" she pondered. "Does that mean it's sharp? Poignant?" Even she, a fellow acronym-pronouncer, didn't understand the meaning of the word. Now, try using the word with teens. Tell that girl that her purple and black striped wristwarmers are totally edgy. Or let that teen know that he just performed an edgie ollie on his skateboard. Chances are, they will back away slowly from the frighteningly unhip adult.

Unlike the acronyms, this word has edged its way into my everyday speech. I'm looking for clothing and I think, "Kaufmanns is so boring. I'm looking for something edgy." I flip through a few more shirts before I realized what I just thought. My blood runs cold. Have I actually integrated this word into mundane, non-Watcher, speech?

I propose a ban on the word "edgy" in all professional YA literature.

Why? Well, I suppose the use of it just makes me ... edgy.

A bit of make-believe, if you will.

It wasn't long after I decided to be a librarian that I started noticing how cultishly cool the profession is. Take Noah Wyle, for example. It wasn't enough for him to be a roguishly handsome doctor on E.R. Nor, it seems, could he remain in that immortally cool classic, Donnie Darko. No, there were better things for his career. He moved on to representing true librarians everywhere in the TNT presentation "Librarian: Quest for the Spear." Doesn't is just send tingles up your spine? And that's not the end of it for Mr. Wyle. Oh, no. He knows a good thing when he sees it. Why, just today I was notified that there will be a sequel to "Librarian" airing this week. Can you imagine my excitement? And the excitement of librarians everywhere?
But I digress.
Mr. Wyle is not the only librarian to grace pop culture with his presence.
Batgirl, aka Barbara Gordon, has her MLIS. She's been helping the Bat out behind the scenes ever since she became wheelchair-bound. And that's not a bad thing, because she kicks just as much ass as a librarian as she ever did swinging around Gotham City. She doesn't even have to wear latex.
The aforementioned librarians are not the true cause of my joy, though, as you may have noticed when you read the subtitle to my blog. No, the most prestigious of this fine group of librarians is none other than Rupert Giles, Buffy's (of vampire slayer fame) Watcher. What does a Watcher do? He goes to an academy to train, then follows around the chosen vampire slayer, training her and guiding her. He pores through old tomes, wears sensible shoes and, it would reason, gives tutorials on how to use electronic databases (he is a school library media specialist after all). Giles is the epitomy of all that is cool in librarianship and I hope to follow in his steps. I don't expect to kill many vampires in my travels, although there is always hope. I am working in teen services so perhaps, like Giles, one day I may come across a young girl looking for help as she stalks the undead and I too may serve as her Watcher.