So this is the new year. And I don't feel any different

2014 is sputtering out its last gasps.  By the time anyone sees this, it will likely be 2015.  Another year ticks by with nothing to show for it but lack of opportunity and failure for the very few opportunities I did have.

The end of the year is doubly a symbol of failure for me, because it's not only the end of a calendar year, but the end of another year of my life.  I was born on December 28th, 32 years ago now.  As another year passes by for the earth, so too does a year of my life go by in almost perfect unison.  So now, as I type this out two days after my birthday and two days until the new year, I can say that both of these cycles have been completed once again without me seeming to be even one step closer to being anything, anywhere, to anybody.

I've mentioned before that I'm a failure, and as much as I try to move forward, the light never changes green for me.  Year after year, I'm seeing red.  Farewell 2014, another pointless waste of a year being shaved from my life with nothing to show for it.

As a point of habit, I've never celebrated New Year's eve.  For one thing, I don't have the kind of social circle that gets me invited to parties.  Big shock, right?  And for another, I've always resented holidays that are used as an excuse to drink.  I'm a fucking adult, even if I don't live like one, and I don't need someone to tell me when is a socially acceptable day to drink if I want to.  So while everyone is out drinking and making out with their significant others (or closest strangers) while listening to a song by a poet they all REALLY ought to learn more about (fact: Robert Burns is better than you), I will be here in my basement, playing video games, and probably not noticing when the clock spins to midnight.

It's lucky that I've never felt an urge to celebrate the new year.  Because if I ever had, I sure as hell wouldn't want to now.

I started this blog as a 29 year old living in the basement of his parents, and now I'm a 32 year old living in the basement of his parents.  Not a 32 year old who dropped out of high school and has spent the last 17 years doing drugs, but a 32 year old who spent until 26 getting an education, getting a Master's degree, and then finding out what was supposed to be a practical, employable Master's degree wouldn't even make good kindling.  And this basement is fucking cold.

32 is the year that you're officially old enough that it's hard to remember your age.  30 is easy because it's the big 3-0.  31 is easy because "holy fuck, I've gone a year past the big 3-0 and I still don't have my life together!  32 is when you stop counting because it's all just too God damned depressing.

A benign year for me.  A malignant year for the earth.  Progress happening for neither of us as we race to see who passes away first while looking back on what we've done to confirm that it was all a huge mistake.

Maybe may be my least favorite word.

I've mentioned before that I was starting to get interviews after the five year mark of looking for a library position (although incidentally, that "two and counting" for 2014 can be called now-- that's staying at 2).  At that point the upside was that at least I'm getting interviews now and then.  Just a couple a year, but it gives me a better fighting chance than zero, right?

That was the upside.  Now, however, I'm looking at it as possibly being another negative, most likely due to the pessimism I can't help but feel.  Here's what I'm thinking now:

Before I was failing without even getting the chance.  Now I'm being given a chance, and still failing.

You ask someone out on a date who says no, and it doesn't hurt your ego a whole lot, hopefully.  Worst case scenario they didn't like your appearance, but that's a subjective thing so you can shrug it off.  You know you're gorgeous.  When you send out a resume, same deal.  They judged you at a glance, and who knows what random, snap decision they had to make to narrow down the candidates.  You know you would have been perfectly competent to do that job.

But when you get a yes to that date, go out, have some long, deep conversations and you think things went well, and then you never hear from the person again, and this keeps happening over and over, well then you can't help but wonder what's wrong with you.  This time the person gave you a chance, sat down with you with an open mind, listened to what you had to say... and did not like it one bit.  Not a snap judgment made at a glance, but a sound judgment made after peering into your depths and recoiling in horror.  Same now with these interviews: they met me, shook my hand, asked me things about myself, and decided then that I should be rejected.

Where this metaphor breaks down is that when it comes to dating, sometimes being pretty is enough to hold someone's interest (and how lucky for me, since that's really all I've got).  But when it comes to those interviews, sadly, being pretty will not be enough to win them over.  I'll admit it has occurred to me that the fact that I'm eye candy could be good marketing for their library, but I'm obviously not stupid enough to claim that in an interview >.>

This is going off the rails a bit, circling back to my point now.  Before it was easier to shrug it off and think: "they're not rejecting me, they're rejecting a very small snapshot of me that they gather from my resume and cover letter.  Now, though, some of them are spending hours-- hours!-- with me in person, listening to what I have to say, and saying: "nahhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  Now I can really, truly feel like it's "me" they're rejecting.  Is that really a step up?

Obviously I'm still getting the interview experience, and I'm still getting a chance rather than none.  But that only makes me feel better if I believe it's really going to help me get the job someday.  If I don't get the job-- and it is entirely possible that I won't-- all I'll have gotten from this is more personal rejection and the opportunity to look back at the end of my life and think "if only I'd checked my hair after taking off my sunglasses in the car, maybe...," or "if only I'd elaborated on this one point, maybe...," or "if only the three hour drive hadn't drained me so much more than I thought it was going to, maybe..."

Will my interview opportunities lead to something good?  Maybe.  But then again, maybe not.

Silence

I've gone a little while without updating my blog.  Don't worry, I still have plenty of scribbled notes of ideas for blog discussions.  I just haven't been interested in doing them lately for the same reason I haven't been very diligent in job hunting for librarian jobs lately.

When I first started writing about the impossibility of getting a job in this field, the advice I gave to myself, yet refused to accept, was "Give Up."  And while I haven't done this yet, the sentiment has crept deeper into my bones lately.  It's so hard to motivate myself to spend hours of my time going through job listings and applying to at least the lowest hanging fruit when more than six years of experience is telling m it's a waste of time, and my life will never move on from the stalled place it's at now.

For the past few months I've been begrudgingly doing the part-part-part time job I do have and then coming home and escaping into books or video games, not even bothering to waste my time applying anywhere.  I've just been feeling too defeated to pull myself up lately.

If you're not in this position it's probably so easy to say: "oh, but you need to apply, you never know!"  or "don't Give Up!"  Or "you may as well keep trying, no harm in trying after all!"  To you, I challenge you to go six straight years failing at something and not go through patches where you're just not motivated.  When you've had Mike Tyson beating you senseless for six years, there will be times when you lie on the mat for longer than needed, just to get a break.

My lack of interest in my career has also, as you have seen, translated to a lack of interest in talking about my career.  I still have plenty to say, though.  And really, that's sad.  I didn't know when I started two years ago that I'd have over two years worth of material to rant about regarding my own personal failure in life, and the death of the American dream.  No, not death.  Zombification.  It has died, but shuffles on as a cruel mockery of those who cared for it, devouring them in giant handfuls.  I don't know what to make of the fact that I've now used two analogies of fighting an opponent who likes to bite people.  Point is, it is appalling  that there's so much to say about how terrible one specific problem is.  Two years and still so much left to say about the futility of life for anyone trying to start a life for the first time post November, 2008.

And it will be said.  A few days ago I managed to bring myself to skim the job postings half-heartedly, and this should mark the start of more searching, more applications, and more posts about just how fucked this dead field is.

Enjoy.

I think, therefore I am sad.

Since this blog is about me being a failure, it is long overdue that I talk about what exactly I’m failing at.  You know what it is in general—I’m trying and failing to be a librarian.  But I can be more specific.  Here are the kinds of position I’m open to:

On the academic level: instruction, reference, and collection development are the places I’m aiming.  Sometimes a position will be jazzed up with a title like “E-learning librarian” and will have maybe an additional duty or two, but this is what I’m experienced in and know I like.

On the public level: reference… aaand that’s pretty much it.

Then there are my “hard limits,” jobs I will never apply for.  These are: archivist, children’s librarian, and cataloging.

Why I want the stuff I want: as I said above, I’m experienced in instruction and know I like it.  Same with reference and collection development.  I don’t have anything against something like acquisitions, nor do I think it would be very difficult to pick up, but my overall lack of experience really precludes me from being able to apply.  When I was doing fieldwork 6 years ago I dabbled a bit in it, but I couldn’t even tell you the name of the system I was using at this point.  The most I’d be able to say to an employer is “I dabbled in it many years ago and I’m sure I can do it, but I don’t have any recent proof of that.”  So, that’s out.  Instruction is really the only place I can boast a lot of experience.

I fell into instruction partly by chance and partly by choice.  When I was in library school my plan was actually to become a reference librarian in a public library.  Finding answers to random questions and dealing with weirdos all while being paid, what more could I ask?  Then came time for me to do fieldwork, and I went immediately to the nearby public library and told them I’m available for free labor.  Their answer: “no thanks.”  Yep, I even failed to GIVE AWAY my free labor on the first try.  They told me they were too busy to deal with me and I’d have to try someplace else.  I didn’t have a car yet at this point, so my options were fairly limited.  There was only one other library I wouldn’t need to bus to, and in fact it was much closer; just a quick walk up a short hill, maybe 5 minutes walking.  The only problem was this was an academic library, which wasn’t where I had hoped my career would take me.  However, I figured the reference experience I’d get there could translate to working in a public library, so I went ahead and asked.  As luck would have it, they were only too happy to help!  I enjoyed my time there and am still in contact with several of them today, and all of them are happy to be strong references for me.  So, you could say that worked out.  What also “worked out” is that I had an opportunity to get a taste of instruction there, and it immediately become my thing.  Perhaps (if I haven’t already—I don’t even remember) I’ll follow up with a post on why instruction turned out to be the path for me.  We’ll leave it here for now and move on.

I consider myself to have lucked out there, not only in discovering the niche I was best suited to, but also because instruction affords me MUCH more opportunity than public reference does.  Part of the problem with many librarian positions is, since our field is now F’d in the B, so many positions have been combined and blended together.  This often means the blending of something I can demonstrate an aptitude in (reference) with something I have no experience or even knowledge of my own aptitude in (cataloging, adult services, youth services, take your pick).  In all of my searching in the last year, I think I may have seen one posting for a public reference position that was full time and was actually just reference.  To just teal deer that for you, so many positions have been merged together that I (and I’m sure countless new librarians) are having a harder time finding a position, not just because there are less jobs, but also because things they had experience in are being merged with things they don’t.

As another example, I think I’d make a good teen librarian.  I love graphic novels, video games, and John Green.  That’s what you could call a good start.  That and I’m familiar with YALSA, of course.  But more and more I’m seeing teen librarians and children’s librarians merged together into “youth services librarians” who do both jobs.  I think I relate to teens more than someone my age probably should, but children are another story.  For one, I hate them.  Even putting that aside, I can’t be relatable to them.  I can’t talk to them on their level, with coos and squeaky voices and feigned enthusiasm.  I just can’t, it's not something I have in me.  It is in the best interest of everybody involved if I am kept as far away from children as humanly possible.  But of course, this means I can kiss goodbye a lot of opportunities to be a teen librarian, which is actually something I could do and enjoy.

This post began as an explanation of what opportunities I’m going after and not going after, and this is a rare time it evolved into a little more as I began to type (I usually have a destination in plan when I begin, but this time I didn’t).  It also began to explain why merging positions creates reduced opportunity beyond the obvious fact that there’s less positions.  I’m not sure yet if it’s been taken into account that we’re not only losing numbers, but many positions have also been combined in such a way that more experience is needed (or at least preferred), creating a double whammy effect for anyone still trying to get solid footing.

This is why sometimes it’s better not to think.  The result is often depressing.

A tale of two pities

For about two years now I’ve been writing about how my pursuit for a career has pretty much fucked my entire life up.  And yet, I keep trying to make it in my field, despite the universe telling me not to.  Part of the reason for this is that giving up completely would entail giving in to trying to find a few minimum wage jobs to string together until I can manage to make enough to live off, despite my student loan debts.  Indeed, it seems that life in America has turned into a “fucked either way” situation.

Allow me to compare the divergent paths of me and my best friend.  We’ll start with me since you know the story pretty well:

I got a 4 year college degree, went on to library school, got my MLIS, and six years later at the age of 31 I am living with my parents, still in no position to even try to make a family of my own because I’m making right around 10,000 a year while paying 280 and change per month for student loans that I’ll have for the next, oh, probably 20 years.

My friend, on the other hand, did the exact opposite.  He didn’t graduate from high school, and just went right into the work force the moment he could.  Fast forward to today, he is 31 and has a house and a family.  However, he also works 90 hours a week doing strenuous manual labor.  Here is a direct quote (well, not exactly verbatim, unless my luck is a statistical monster) that sums up his life:

“When I got home from work I fell asleep in the garage with the car still running and the garage door closed.  I woke up in time, but this is just what this job’s doing to me.”

My point, and what I consider one of the main points of this blog, and why I consider it important for me to be recording my experience for posterity, is this: this seems to me to be the choice most Americans have to face these days.  Those of you who found footing in library land before fate fucked it over: congratulations.  I’m happy for you.  But people trying to make it in the world now seem to have two choices: they can either come very close to killing themselves (maybe literally) doing nothing but work at a variety of low paying jobs like my friend, or they can take the gamble I took and invest a lot of time and money in a degree that gives them only a CHANCE to aspire to better.  If they’re lucky, that chance may pay off.  These people are not 90% of those who try, they may not even be the norm at all (a lot depends on the specific field they want, of course).  And for those who fail?  They can either give up and live like my friend (only with student loan debt and many good years of their life wasted), or they can do like me and toss aside any hopes of a family or an independent life.

And that’s not how things should be.  The choice should not be “90 hours of hard labor to make a life for yourself” or “gamble and pray you make it, and if you don’t, give up the hope of a family or independence.”

I’m not sure if I can pinpoint the exact moment the “American Dream” was butchered.  Obviously the big crash in 2008 was when the sword of Damocles officially impaled the Dream, but it had been descending inexorably toward its target since long before that.  Whenever it was, the end result is that anyone who hasn’t already made it (and was lucky enough to keep it) needs to be lucky to make any kind of life for him or herself.  And I’m not ok with that.  I’m not ok with losing my chance for a life when a pretty basic one was all I ever wanted.  Truth is, even if my luck changed and I made it in my field next month, it’s already too late for me.

Usually I try to wrap up with a line that, depressing or not, is mildly amusing, at least to me.  This time, all I have is “fuck.”

Calculating infinity

Followers of this blog (i.e., me) know that there has been a recent improvement in the number of interviews I've managed to get.  Those of you just tuning in, let me get you up to speed:

My MLIS was earned in May 2008.  I had one interview for a full time position that year.  There was, luckily, that less than halftime position that took me on, which is how I've been lucky enough to have been getting experience since then (although, not gainful employment).

In 2009 I had no interviews.  That's right, an entire year went by of applying to positions all over the country, and not one single person interviewed me.  For an entire year.

Then that happened again in 2010.  Then in 2011.  Then most of 2012.

Yes, seriously.  Four straight years SOLID of applying to jobs and not one single place would even grant me an interview.  That was one hell of a streak.

Then something happened.  After five years of paying my dues at my less than halftime job, I managed to get an interview in October 2012.  By the same time a year later I had had two more.  And one of them went all the way to round three before I was obliterated.  Then another one in May of this year, and finally, one I have yet to mention, another web interview for a position in Arkansas last month (which I obviously didn't get).

So all together that's:

08=1
09=0
10=0
11=0
12=1
13=2
14=2 (so far, just past half in).

Let's put aside the fact that seven sets of numbers doesn't reveal a pattern.  If these numbers were completely random, this would mean nothing.  But they're not completely random.  My increased experience is a factor, and what these numbers reflect is that opportunity is increasing for me.

...Or is it?

You see, I have a fear that I touched on before, but it especially bears repeating now.  The fear is that my experience is actually worthless.  True, the number of years I have on my resume is opening some doors as far as getting to the interview is concerned.  But what happens when I'm in the interview and they start asking me about what I've done so far?

Here's what they'll discover: 100% of that experience is just instruction.  that's it.  Sure I can say that helping students one on one in the classroom counts as reference, but no one seems to buy that.  I put it out there every single time, and every single time I can tell the interviewers consider it a stretch, even if they don't say it.  And if I want to say I've done collection development I have to go all the way back to my fieldwork and volunteer experience about 4 years ago.  If they want to know about my experience marketing the library, or cataloging, or programming, I've got nothin'.

I've been working in this field for 5 years, and aside from a short time doing fieldwork and volunteering, none of it has been in the library.  And this is what is being discovered about me when I interview.  So while I'm getting more interviews, I'm not sure if my current amount of experience is actually valuable at all in terms of actually landing a job.

As it is I'm limited to applying for academic instruction positions.  That's where my experience is, and I've now been typecast in that role.  I have never gotten an interview for a public library, even an "entry level" position (although, I don't really believe there is such a thing as a true "entry level" position anymore, since you need experience for any job you apply to).  I haven't even been interviewed for the position of page or shelver in a public library, and oh yes, I have sunk low enough to apply to those.  As far as academic libraries go, it has been all instruction.  And that's fine, I like instruction.  But there's still that matter of actually landing the job.

The bad news, again, is that my experience may be like that woman who only looks good from far away.  Once the employers get my resume up close, they may be shuddering upon seeing its acne, lazy eye, and 5 o' clock shadow.  At this point I have no idea if what I've been doing is "good enough" to get me a real job.  Ever.

At this point an optimist would say that the interview increase is still good news, because even without great experience I can now go in and sell myself.  For people with natural salesmanship, this would indeed be good news.  For someone who is a salesmanship black hole, on the other hand, this is not good news.  And guess which one I am.

A million little generals

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for this.  One of the main reasons I especially feel discouraged lately is because I simply cannot find a full job description that does not use a buzzword like “innovative” or “leader.”

A popular saying is that you either lead, follow, or get out of the way.  I’ll gladly do options two or three, but I am not into option one.  And as for being an innovator, are you kidding me?  How?  I have no idea how to reinvent the wheel.  If I were that smart… I’d be able to think of a witty way to end this sentence. 

No, as a matter of fact I’m not on the bleeding edge of today’s technology.  I’m not sure how you expect me to be when I can’t even get a decent job to begin with.  I don’t get to throw money around on things that are impractical for my own personal use.  When I don’t even own a smart phone, I’m obviously not going to know how to design apps for it.  And no, a webinar isn’t going to fill that knowledge gap when the technology itself is only theoretical in my world.

But I’m sorry, that paragraph looked like I’m shifting the blame to my circumstances.  My original point, however, is that I’m not that person.  I’m not inventing things.  I’m not shaking up the status quo.  I’m not thinking of exciting new things that have never been done. I’m not that smart.  We can’t all be leaders and trailblazers in the field, right?  Don’t there have to be some of us to follow you, or get out of your way?

To be clear, I am perfectly willing to do exactly that—“get out of your way.”  I do not intend to be an obstacle for people who want to do new things.  I don’t want to be the one grumbling at change because it’s more work.  If you can improve something, great, I’ll get in line.  Only problem is, it doesn’t seem like there’s a line to get into.

You would think the trailblazers would need people in line, but judging by the job descriptions I see, everyone is expected to be a leader, an innovator, a general. 

Maybe it speaks of an internal insecurity in the librarian world.  Some laypersons still view the library as “musty old books” that are hopelessly behind the times.  And some of that probably is justified.  I once attended a workshop given by a library futurist (my apologies, her name escapes me) who said that her job is easy, because all she has to do is look at what the rest of the world is already doing.

So maybe this is why those job descriptions tend to overcompensate by calling for every position, from the ground up, to be stuffed with people filled with new ideas.  But how serious about that are they, and where does that leave me?

I’m only a person.  I’m not out to reinvent an industry or think of new ways of doing things.  I couldn't if I wanted to.  I’m an ordinary, everyday person who just wants to do a day’s work and get a day’s pay.  Is there— especially in this economy— any space out there for someone like me?  And I suppose the question people considering a career in librarianship need to ask themselves is, is there room for you? 

Who are you?  Have you always been inspired by people who have thrown buzzwords at you about thinking outside the box?  Are you the brilliant kind of person who could revolutionize an industry and think of ways to do your job that no one in human history thought of before you?  Are you on the bleeding edge of technology to the point where you can tinker even further with it to do things that haven’t been done yet?  Or are you, like me, a regular person who just wanted what seemed like a decent, respectable job that wasn’t too strenuous for a weak body?

If it’s the latter I wish you luck, and hope you can manage to survive where I apparently can’t.  Because it’s getting harder and harder to find leaders who will let you line up behind them, rather than leave you behind.

I have dignity. Well.... I know OF dignity.

I wrote previously in my blog about the unfortunate necessity for some people to don a mask during interviews.  How we obviously should be able to be ourselves for the best interest of both ourselves and the employer, but the reality is shy people would never have a fighting chance if we could be ourselves, so we have to fake it.  No matter who we are, we all go into interviews as outgoing, smiley, pleasant people who fucking love work more than we love food.

That was one example of how (without lying, of course) we do have to make believe things in interviews that we know aren't true.  However, there's another example of make believe that goes on in interviews, only in this case, BOTH parties know it's a lie.  This is the part where we ask the employer questions because "we're interviewing them as much as they're interviewing us."

Ask anyone for interviewing advice, and that's on the short list.  "Remember, you're interviewing them, too."  We are-- supposedly-- sizing them up, getting a feel for the environment, and deciding if that place is good enough for us.  The employers expect it too-- after all, if we're worth hiring, we can't be some desperate shlub, we need to be the cream of the crop.  They should be wooing us.

Look, I understand we should ask questions just because we should have some curiosities of a place we may potentially work, but when I have to make believe that I'm an indispensable talent who is taking my expertise only to the very best place of business, I feel like I'm insulting their intelligence and my own.

Maybe there are people in even the library world like that.  People with 20 years of experience who have run organizations, written books, given world famous (or, library famous) lectures around the country, and slain mimes with their adamantium claws.  And if any of that were true of me, it would be on my fucking resume.  Especially the claw thing.

No, I am most definitely and hilariously NOT in any position to "interview them as much as they're interviewing me," and it's laughable that I have to go through that charade.  I know it and they know it, but there we sit, both politely pretending otherwise for no reason other than blind tradition, or perhaps to give them something to snicker about later.  We in the library world-- all of us, you, me, and them-- know exactly how royally fucked our job market is.  I am in absolutely no position to turn down a full time job, no matter how terrible the place is, and I'd venture to say few librarians and NO new or new-ish librarians are.  If participation in their annual cactus hugging contest were a mandatory condition of hire, I would hug the crap out of some cacti and tearfully thank them for showing me more love than this career ever has.

I'm expected to work 50 hours a week for no extra pay?  I have to work mornings the days after working nights every single week?  Second shift?  You have a little asbestos problem?  I need to be on call 24/7?  Turning my grimace into a smile, I say sign me up.

That's life.  We're in an employer's market, and this is especially true of the library world.  They have the work force by the short hairs, if you can forgive an expression that makes me cringe as well, and most of us are in absolutely no position to "interview" them and say "ehhhh, sorry but I'm looking for something on a tenure track," or "oooh, sorry but I was kind of hoping for a liberal arts college that offers a few Master's degrees as well."  Yeah, right.

On one hand, it's not as unfortunate as having to pretend we're not the people we really are, and that instead we're outgoing, upbeat folks with a smile permanently on our lips.  But on the other hand, it is a bit more insulting, since both sides of the table know better this time.  These are desperate times and aspiring librarians are desperate people.  Can we just drop the act?  I'll still ask questions for curiosity's sake, but must I-- must I-- insult your intelligence by acting like I have any remote power of negotiation here?

I am your willing bitch.

On the road again

I didn't realize it had been so long since my last update.  Work has been busier than usual somehow, but hopefully I can get back to my goal of updating this at least once a month.  No promises, though.

Since you last heard of me I had yet another on-site job interview.  Yes, really.  I think at this point I can say I have confirmed that crossing the 5-year experience mark is making a huge difference.  Within the past year I have now had 4 interviews, which comes after about 4 years in a row of having exactly zero interviews.

This time I only had to travel 3 hours to get there (and another 3 back, of course), so unlike This interview I didn't have to stay the night.  No bill for an inn, no bill for a dinner out, just the cost of the gas for six hours of travel.  And here's the crazy part: they reimbursed me.  The place where I shelled out all that additional money made no offer to do so, but this one where I spent almost nothing in comparison?  They're willing to pick up the check.  I actually could have spent the night and had a meal on them, but I didn't know they'd reimburse me.  And that's ok, because I didn't have the time anyway.  I had time to drive there, do the interview, and drive back, getting it all out of the way in one shot.

So the good news to you aspiring librarians is that not every out of state interview will be on your own dime.  Just some of them.

Oh, I didn't get the job, by the way.  I probably should have lead with that, but I figured that was the least shocking part of the news.  On the shock scale, me not getting a job rates somewhere between "the sun came up" and "bacon is still delicious," while me being reimbursed for my interview expenses rates somewhere between "I got through a day without wishing for death" and "Jesus came back, and it turns out he was Japanese the whole time."

This time I feel less bad about missing out on the job, since it wasn't the millions-to-one job I missed last time.  But I realized something distressing in that bit of seemingly good news:  I'm never going to want a job that badly again.  From now on, every single interview will be entered into half-heartedly.

Maybe that's a good thing.  In some ways, interviewing might be like dating; if you're desperate, it shows, and it's a major turn-off.  And like dating, the more you need the job, the longer you've gone without one, the more desperate you are.  It's a cruel catch 22.  The only way out, it seems, it to reach the point where you're so demoralized that you've given up deep down.  Only when you stop actually giving a fuck about whether or not you get the thing do you have a chance to get it.

I don't know yet where exactly the interview went wrong.  It didn't seem to go badly.  I thought I gave good answers, and they didn't seem to show any facial expressions or body language to indicate that they thought I was a train wreck (and I have a good natural ability to read these things).  But I also did get the impression that they wrote me off during the interview.  For one thing (among a few others), they said the next step was to call references, but they never called mine.  So maybe I said or did something wrong.  Or, maybe they simply had their heart set on someone else who came in before me (I was the last to interview).  I will try to work up the courage to contact them soon and ask if there was a misstep I made that I can correct in the future, but I still haven't heard official word of my rejection, and I think it would be good form to do so.

In the meantime, I am now days away from the new semester starting in my current job, the one I hoped to Japanese Jesus I wouldn't have to go back to.

Save me.

Map to failure

When I started this blog years ago, I didn't know I'd still be at it by this time.  The mess of an economy I walked into has now stolen nearly six years of my life, and the meter is still running.  I have plenty more posts left in me, but as a placeholder until I have more time, I'd like to revisit one of my first posts.  I had a map where I was keeping track of all the states I got rejected from in my quest to become a financially independent librarian, declaring that my new goal was to fill it out completely, so that I could declare that every single one of these United States has told me individually that they want nothing to do with me (since the goal of gainful employment is unattainable for a librarian these days, I may as well focus on something doable).

After my hard drive died a while back I replaced that ugly map with a much sleeker one, now filling in a blank US map rather than crossing out the states in a full map.  It looks much better, I think.  You'll also notice it is now quite a bit more full:

I only have 18 more states to go.  As you can see, I can now travel the country from coast to coast in an unbroken path of states that have been specific about not wanting me to stay.

Some of these states will be harder than others.  Florida is not the hardest state to find openings in, I only need to find one I actually seem right for.  Montana, on the other hand, rarely has openings.  The hardest spots to fill, I think, will be:

-Montana
-Hawaii
-West Virginia
-Rhode Island
-New Mexico

Alaska might be pretty tough, too.  Florida and Nebraska are only a matter of time.

Not very great expectations

We who have been looking at postings for librarian jobs for a long time have long been aware of how laughably optimistic some employers are of the kinds of applicants they're going to find.  More than a decade's worth of experience, a second Master's degree (in a specific particular field, no less), and willing to work 50-60 hours a weeks for just under 30,000 dollars.  That's a worst case scenario, of course, but I've actually seen postings that hit three out of four of those.  Clearly, some people would do well to lower their expectations.  Yes, this is an employer's market and you've got your pick of the litter right now, but sometimes the future Westminster winner you're hoping for just isn't going to be out there.

Now, we job hunters often have a snicker over those job posts, typically before sighing heavily, taking another belt of our favorite drink (hemlock), and throwing ourselves off the roof.  And yet, I rarely hear laughter, complaints, or head scratching about employers on the opposite side of the fence, and it's strange to me because I see them constantly.  I mean those employers who pretend to have no standards whatsoever, even though they clearly need someone with a pretty substantial wealth of experience.

These jobs are extremely easy to identify.  Any time you see a job described simply as "Librarian," you've just found one.  What kind of librarian?  Reference?  Instruction?  Collection development?  Cataloging?  Would this be a supervisory position, perhaps?  Would I be in charge of the website, or be the liaison to the instructors?  The answer is all of the above.  "Librarian" more or less means "you're gonna be the only one here. do it all."  Now that's the kind of job I wouldn't expect to get without 5 years or more of progressively greater responsibility in the library world, having moved my way up to a management position at the very least.  Maybe I wouldn't expect to need a second Master's in Oriental Medicine or whatever, but obviously I should be ready to tackle a huge range of tasks with little to no direction.

I see these jobs all the time.  "Librarian."  "Librarian."  "Librarian."  That vague title that simply means "every kind of librarian you can think of, you're running the show, champ."  And yet every single one of those jobs I see asks for the exact same qualifications: "An ALA accredited Master's degree in Library Science."  That's it.  As if someone who just walked out of library school is perfectly capable of captaining the ship themselves.

What I'd like to know is, are they honestly considering people with no experience?  Is what they list as their qualifications really all that matters to them?  Or are they doing a complete 180 from the laughably optimistic employers above, so afraid of raising their standards too high that they drop all standards altogether for the initial job posting, and simply weed out the inexperienced ones once they've collected the resumes?  In short, just what the fucking fuck is up with these jobs?  I don't suppose anyone in the know can shed some light on this for us long-suffering job hunters?

And if these jobs secretly do have standards, could we maybe see more middle ground between the "I expect a librarian who can ride in on a unicorn, holding the Holy Grail" employers and the "we need someone who can do everything, but fuck it, we're too afraid to ask for more than a degree" employers?  Please?  I understand your perspective as someone who is concerned about raising the bar too high, but maybe you could understand my perspective as someone who is a little burned out after spending over five years applying for job after job after job afterjobafterjobafterjob,  and maybe agree not to waste my time if I don't have the experience you're secretly looking for.  Just an idea, throwing it out there.

Talk about the passion

Everyone knows that when you interview for a position you’re not entirely yourself.  I’m not saying you lie during interviews.  At least I don’t and I hope you don’t either, since you’re competing with me for jobs.  But while we don’t lie, of course what we present isn’t entirely representative of ourselves.  If it were, introverts would never get jobs.  Nor would anyone who dares to want a job for the money more than anything.  And since people need money to, you know, live, there aren’t many people for whom the money isn’t one of the top draws.  And then there are people like me who are just desperate to have a full time job in a horrible economy, but we’re sure as hell not allowed to be honest about being desperate.  No, if we had to show our true faces during an interview, no one would ever work.

So what’s the hardest part for me to fake?  I can hide my desperation, I hope.  At least, I don’t come right out and say I’m desperate, or that I need the job, or I need the money.  I can also generally hide the fact that I’m shy, given that there’s not much chance for me to show that I am.

Nope, I would say the hardest thing for me to fake is passion.  Having to act like “Oh my God, I LOVE being a librarian and it makes me so HAPPY to do this!”

 I used to be able to feel something like that long ago, before my current job broke my spirit by degrading me in every way at every opportunity.  But even back then the feeling would be ephemeral.  The truth is, I am not a passionate person.  Not about anything.  In fact, I’ve gone my whole life wondering if there was something wrong with me because it seems like everyone else can feel so strongly for things, and I never could.  I can enjoy things, but not enough that I’d want to do them for the better half of my waking day, five days a week, no matter how I feel and no matter what else I could be doing.  I can’t understand the mentality of anyone who could love anything that much.

There are things I can say I used to have a passion for, but I couldn’t sustain it.  Art, for example.  I was one of those kids who was always in at least two art classes any given semester throughout high school.  Then it just stopped, and when it did it was like a light switch.  One day art was my thing, and the next day I had no desire to draw or paint, and I knew I never would again.  And I never did.  Sorry I never used that easel you bought me, grandma.

I have no tattoos and I strongly doubt I ever will, because there’s nothing I care about so much that I’d want it on my body for the rest of my life.  Honestly, I kind of think people are idiots when they get band tattoos, because surely someday they’ll be 40 and explaining “oh yeah, that’s just the logo of some band I used to be really into.”  But band logos aside, some people apparently just love some things so much and know they always will to the point that they’ll draw it on themselves permanently.  And I know I never will.

When I first started to do fieldwork, I got a rush from helping people directly.  Instruction work made me feel like a rock star.  Now?  I spend every moment I’m not at work dreading going to work.  If I could have sustained that passion under normal conditions, I sure as hell couldn’t do it working in a place like this.

But I know that when I go into an interview, I have to spend all of my energy trying to put myself back in a place where I had that passion and enthusiasm, when in reality all I really want is to get a full time salary so I can live whatever little scraps of life I’m allowed to have on a full time schedule, and if I’m really lucky, do it in a place that doesn’t degrade me on a daily basis.  I just want to live my life and get by, that's all.  Yet there I am, forcing myself to pretend to be upbeat and enthusiastic for half an hour or more.

And it is fucking exhausting.

I still think there’s something wrong with me.  I still don’t understand why I can’t feel like normal people.  Why I’m so fucking broken that I can’t love things and activities unconditionally.  I can find interests, I can enjoy things, but there will never be anything that I eat, breathe, and sleep, and want to be my life.  Never.

What piece of the soul am I missing that everyone else has?

I believe in Billy Corgan

This is likely the last post I’ll be making regarding the big event that happened recently.  Not because I’ve been given a gag order or anything, but because it’s the last thing I have to say about it that will be relevant to this blog.

As nice as the drive was, I found myself with unexpected stress almost right away upon the realization that I’d forgotten to bring something I’d planned to have with me.  That something was the double album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by the Smashing Pumpkins.  I did remember their Siamese Dream album, but I especially wanted Mellon Collie, specifically disc one.  Don’t leave yet, there actually is a point to this related to applying for library jobs.  I’ll get there.  But back to the story, I had many potential “signs” that things were going to go my way, and this was the first potential “sign” that things weren’t.  I don’t believe in signs, because if God or the universe—whatever you want to call it—were in the business of giving signs, it would know not to bother since the potential for them to be mere coincidence prevents them from being any comfort.  But I digress.

And why would this be a supposed sign?  Well, for one I could have sworn I packed them.  I have the actual memory of sliding them into my CD case, so I was shocked and flipped through my case several times before finally accepting they really weren’t there.  And second, well this is the part where we get to why this was important to me and why it has crap all to do with applying for jobs in our poorly chosen field.

The song "Tonight, Tonight" was my theme song during that whole application process, from finding out they wanted to call me for an interview to getting myself pumped for making the trip down there.  And the reason is this particular line (and for your own good, do not imagine me signing it): “Believe in me, believe that life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain.” 

Here’s why that line meant so much to me.  It’s because I really do believe that the thoughts you put out into the world can, at least partially, influence causality.  Not in some crass “the secret” kind of way where all you have to do is think about it really hard and you can have anything you want.  No, not like that.  But self-fulfilling prophecy is a real thing that can influence what happens in one’s life, and even beyond that, I just believe that what you imagine happening can be part of what causes it to happen.  The problem with that line of thinking is that I don’t foresee myself ever, ever, ever in my life getting a full time job.  After living in this ugly fucking basement for the past 5 years, failure after failure after failure, I have a damn hard time envisioning my life ever being different.  Can you blame me?

Like I said before, this was the job I wanted and where I wanted it to be.  I went all in with this one.  I told as many people as I could to cross their fingers for me, hoping that they’d think positive thoughts about me getting the job.  I can’t believe in myself anymore, but maybe other people can.  And I listened to that song, trying to believe in Billy Corgan as he asked, and believe that my life can change after all this time, and I’m not going to be alone in a basement, working a miserable part time job that causes my “moderate to severe depression” forever.  That was what I wanted to tell myself, and now it’s what I want to tell other people in my position.  Just try to believe.  It didn’t help me when I needed it the most, but maybe someday it will help.  That’s my advice, believe in Billy Corgan.  Think positive and try to keep thinking that way, no matter how hard it gets.  Billy Corgan wouldn’t steer us wrong, would he?

http://www.savevid.com/video/billy-corgan-talks-about-chemtrails-to-audience.html

Umm, Billy Corgan wouldn’t steer us wrong twice, would he?