Cocktail hour

Stop me if I've already written this one before.


It's okay if you need to go back through the 1,200 post history of clerkmanifesto and check. While I am delighted and even honored that you (at least occasionally) read my daily missives on the state of the universe, if I had one, well, not criticism, let's say wish, if I had one wish it would be that you re-read all my posts in a state of rapt attention. And this is such an excellent opportunity for you to do so while you are going back and checking if I've written this one before.


Oh, right, what's this one about?

Yes, yes, how can you know if I've written this before if you don't know what this is about.

It's about the intensity of socializing in the back room of my library.



It's about how it's pretty near always cocktail hour at my job. Look at it right now! There are the little groups clustered by the book carts involved in deep conversation, there's three people in consultation over at the transit bins, and look at those two back by the request processing area, just chatting and chatting and chatting and chatting. Oh my god the chatting we do! The real question here is not how we get any work done, the question is how do we talk so much and still breathe!


I may get a detailed account of a long past vacation. I might receive an exhaustive synopsis of a movie. I can get a highly involved account of what books someone is reading, or an exciting stream of soccer gossip. I can hear about lunch, kids, evening plans, patron interactions, and the weather. And I'm not saying that I'm not something of a talker myself at times, but, I mean, seriously, this is our workplace! I simply can't in good conscience talk all the time.

 
I've got blogposts to write!