Sunday, September 6, 2020
Chickens, man, chickens
I think I have covered the County's unsettling and Kafkaesque invasion and usurpation of my library with some thoroughness, though perhaps not with the same calm, dark mastery that Kafka himself could have brought to the proceedings. And if I have been sad, alarmed, and bitter at this erosion of the integrity of my library it has been for good reason.
Nevertheless, as it has at times been noted on the very masthead of this blog, I am a glass half full even if it's really empty kind of person, and I have found a silver lining in these dark, unpleasant clouds.
Once I stopped yelling and complaining all the time about the County imperiously taking over library spaces, taking over our messaging, autonomy, and systems, all without consideration of, or coordination with the library itself, all to self-importantly provide things almost no one is interested in, I started hearing other people yelling and complaining about the same things.
Some of these unhappy, bitter, complaining people were my co-workers; pages, clerks, and librarians. But of every subgroup in the library of complainers the most unhappy about all of this with the County turned out to be the managers. All the managers of my library were horrified and insulted to be so unconsidered, to be subject to the capricious designs of others more powerful, to not be consulted or even informed on matters they clearly knew far more about, to have their ideas ignored and dismissed, and to be treated as people merely there to implement the will of generally remote others.
Sometimes what is most painful to ourselves is what we are guilty of towards others.
Chickens coming home to roost man, chickens coming home to roost.
Posted by Feldenstein Calypso at 6:30 AM
Labels: libraries, management, politics, psychology, rok
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