Whatever drives us on

Yes, I occasionally joke about a devotion to slackerdom at my job. I am keen on occasional discussions and confessions of on-the-clock not working.  I as firmly believe in doing a good job as I believe in not working too much and think that these have far more to do with each other than you have been led to believe.

Nevertheless there is a baseline of productivity I fervently believe in for myself. I think that every day I come to work, beyond certain basic responsibilities and fundamental public serving competencies, I should be getting a genuine measure of bulk work taken care of. At my library that usually comes down to shelving, transit and request processing, and putting stuff in order.

Everyday I get a share done.

Why? What contributes to this nobility? What drives my steady industriousness?

Ah.

It is not a sense that I owe it, that I am being paid for it.

I do not do it to protect my sense of self worth or to meet an idea of myself.

It is not my sense of teamwork that drives me, or a desire to make the library more efficient.

It is not out of fear, to avoid trouble, to ward off the disapprobation of my colleagues or bosses.

It is not for love, money, ambition, or accolades.

I do it so that if one of my supervisors suggests to me, in any way, subtle or not, that I get to work, I can do less and make their comment or suggestion into the failure I so want it to be.