Tuesday, October 16, 2018
For what I believe was the first time in my long career at my library, a job was posted in an odd work category perched above mine, but within reach. I was not interested in it, but I was surprised by many people asking me if I was going to pursue it. Invariably I answered in the colorful and overblown way that, much like in this blog, helps keep my popularity from getting out of control.
I told the truth.
Working for the person who would be my manager in that job would be agony. I may occasionally, in response, have mentioned preferring to cut off a finger than work for this person. I didn't specify any particular finger as I didn't want any of my fingers to feel bad, but perhaps because they all thought the finger I meant wasn't them, all my fingers totally understood my position. They, after all, knew this manager too, who is moderately nice in acquaintance, but deeply problematic professionally. Deeply. And my fingers are no fools.
Now we fast forward to where the position has closed, and the interviews are over. It is evening and I am working on the automated check in machine (hey, if it's so automated, why can't it take care of itself?). This manager wanders over to me on the way out the door for the day.
"How come you didn't go for that position?" The manager asks. "It seems like you'd be good at it."
Aw shucks. I take it all back. This manager is not without some excellent judgement! Plus, I love my fingers!