Monday, June 29, 2009

Check Back for Updates, or, Welcome!

I'm starting to put a few irons in the fire, so if you've reached this site by googling me, welcome. I'll be revamping the site a bit in the next few weeks, particularly by updating my resume and such. In the meantime, please be assured that I'm a top-notch researcher and a dedicated employee. And most of all, I'm 100% committed to seeing Cleveland succeed.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Laid Off, Part II

I realized with some bemusement today that it's not the dread of staying home all day and doing nothing that's making me feel so bad about getting laid off. It's not losing the paycheck, it's not feeling useless or unwanted.

What's making me feel bad is that I genuinely like the people I work with, and I'll miss them. I liked the work I was doing, and I'll miss that, too, because I was good at it. And I feel really sad that I'll never be a person of influence in my institution because if I may be so bold, I had an awful lot of good ideas for the place.

But most of all, I feel terribly disappointed that my institution has been doing so badly for so long. I really worry about its future.

Friday, June 26, 2009

In Which Christine is Made Redundant, Or, It Happened to Me!

I got laid off today.

This came as a complete surprise. Although I had been assured for months that there was grant money to cover my projects, it turned out that was a bit optimistic.

Once again, I remind you that none of Cleveland's important cultural institutions are too big to fail.

I'm not mad. I'm having some trouble figuring out just what I am. Filled with dread at the prospect of having nothing to do all day, mostly. The last time I was out of work, when we moved back to Cleveland from New York, I felt worthless and demoralized. It was surprising to realize that I had wrapped up so much of my self-worth in my paycheck.

One of the many reasons I haven't become a famous author by now is that I am not good at structuring my own time outside of the workplace. I like having a place to go every morning. I like knowing that I have to wake up by a certain time, leave by a certain time, and go to lunch at a certain time. Like Rain Man.

I also like feeling like I'm part of an institution. I like knowing that I am a cog in the machine of human civilization. Even though I've always been kind of a lone wolf, I like the camaraderie that comes with having a bunch of coworkers who are all in the same boat. I like having people to talk to all day.

This was a particularly awful weekend for this to happen, to boot, because Jim's brother is coming up and they are dragging me to an Indians game. (I hate baseball, Little Red Sambo, Slider, and people who look like they are having fun.) To add insult to injury, Jim's brother is always going on about how much he hates his (well-paying, stable) job, how he threatens to quit but then his boss sweet talks him back on board with money and perks. Oh, and he tends to cast a judgmental eye on the beer or wineglass in my hand -- kind of like being at church camp, minus the religion.

Anyway, I might have to face the fact, ultimately, that the Universe is going to keep kicking me in the ass until I stop thinking about wanting to write books, and just write books.

It's the best I can tell myself, at this point.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

A Librarians' Call to Arms

If you've been paying attention, you've noticed that libraries are a big issue in Ohio this week.

I am a librarian, an information professional, and I believe that all librarians have a specific civic responsibility to dispel rumors with facts, correct untruths with statistics, and always (of course) cite our sources.

This is why I am urging librarians to take up arms against ignorance and to participate in the comments of their local news sites. Not just on the library issue, but about everything. All the time.

A while back, I encouraged my friends and neighbors to take the cleveland.com challenge. Since then, I've been told by many people that I'm fighting a losing battle. Here's what I've got to say about that.

When we flee to our own corners of the Internet, where we only talk to those people who think like us, we are doing something terrible that (particularly in Cleveland) we should do better to avoid -- i.e., we are committing a sin analagous to suburban flight. We are taking our intellectual tax base out to the edges, and leaving our core community to crumble.

You may say that trying to engage these people is a waste of time, that it makes us look foolish to even try. I disagree. Because when you participate in these discussions, your larger purpose is not to engage the "trolls," but to send a vital message to all of those people who read but DON'T comment, those people whose outlook is routinely poisoned by unalloyed ignorance and unconstructive negativity. The people who read and think, "there isn't a single reasonable person left in Cleveland. Everyone in Cleveland is ignorant. What an AWFUL place Cleveland is."

In terms of the suburban flight analogy, it's easy to see what's next on the agenda for these people.

The key to participating in these discussions, however, is that YOU have to be reasonable. And sometimes that's hard. You have to act professional, like you are at the reference desk. You would never shout at a patron (although we all want to shout at the patrons sometimes), so don't TYPE IN ALL CAPS, EVER. Don't fight with people. Don't put them down. Never act elitist, never say things like, "you would know that if you ever bothered to pick up a book."

You have to be succinct. Businesslike. Address specific points. Don't respond to insults. Don't take bait. Never, ever use the I-word ("idiot") or the S-word ("stupid.") Refute misconceptions and again, cite your sources. Disclose what is your opinion and what is fact, and most importantly: claim your expertise. Use these moments as teachable moments, where you can show these people how to find out more information for themselves.

Because information, as we librarians know, is power, and I suspect a lot of the complainers feel pretty powerless.

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

A Very Honest Resume

My grant money is probably going to dry up over the next year, so I've started cleaning up the old resume. In doing so, I've realized that one of my greatest professional strengths is that I am keenly aware of my shortcomings (and know how to work within and around them).

In this spirit, I've put together what I'm calling A Very Honest Resume.

Here is an excerpt:

My experiences working in public libraries and riding the bus have shaped me into the go-to person for dealing with a diverse array of weirdos. I am highly proficient with thinking up innovative ideas, and am VERY EAGER to learn how to follow through on them. Additionally, I have a proven track record in taking on management responsibilities before I am ready for them, then getting burned out.

Other notable skills include:
  • Wishing I was somewhere else
  • Not living up to my potential
  • Burning bridges
  • Leaving scraps of paper lying around that are scribbled with what I think are probably flashes of brilliance, but that other people probably think are the ramblings of a crazy person
  • Feeling thwarted, creatively
You see, it seems like I've encountered an awful lot of employers who've been burned by duds who "looked good on paper." With my Very Honest Resume, employers, what you see is what you get.

What would your Very Honest Resume say?