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.

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.

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?

Not dead, just buried

I feel I owe an update to the dozens of spambots and the zero real, actual people who read this blog.

There has been news.  Kind of a lot of news, actually.  The problem is, I've been busy.  And when I'm not busy, my depression demands that I do nothing but sit here in my sweatpants playing Skyrim for 12 hours straight.

But enough about my crippling mental disorders, here's the news.  In the past 2 months I have had two interviews for full time jobs.  To put that in context, the last full time job I was interviewed for (not counting This catastrophe, which I don't and neither should you) was about 4.5 years ago.  So I went from nothing year after year after year, to two interviews for full time positions in two months.

I got my MLIS in 2008.  It is now 2013.  That's 5 years and change.  That was how long it took for me to turn a corner where my experience is now enough to get me looked at.  As you may recall, my experience all this time has been adjunct info lit instruction, so maybe it's not as bad if you're the lucky kind of son or daughter of a bitch who can somehow land a part time job that's actually in a library.  I don't know how such a thing as possible, but eh, people get lucky.  Maybe you did fieldwork where there just happened to be an opening.  Good for you.  You son or daughter of a bitch.  Anyway, if you're one of those people then I guess you probably didn't have as long of a wait.  If you're like me and your only job has been teaching info lit as an adjunct (I know I'm not the only one!), the the magic number you're looking for is 5.  Five years and just maybe your resume will start getting looked at (albeit, only for jobs with a heavy instruction component).

And if you didn't hit the jackpot and stumble ass-first into a part time position right out of library school, AND if you didn't make the connections to get a teaching gig at the very least (in which case you must think me the son or daughter of a bitch), then haha, wow, I have no idea what it's going to be for you.

I may be jumping the gun, though.  I'm aware that two interviews doesn't prove a pattern.  It could very well be that getting two interviews was luck, and the fact they were 2 months from each other is coincidence, and now I'll be back to another 5 year dry spell.  Could be, but honestly I don't think so.  It's kind of hard to admit, but I actually have a good feeling about this.

I got rejected from that first job, by the way.  The other one... well, we'll wait and see.

Positively positive

You're getting by now that I'm aware that I completely ruined my entire life with my horrible career choice of trying to be a librarian.  Yep, I am, no arguing there.  But in honor of Thanksgiving, I'm going to try to think of something positive to say about it.

The good thing about being a librarian is that the work itself doesn't suck.  Ideally.  I mean, no matter where you are, some jobs are just going to suck.  But if you can find a position that doesn't, it sure is nice to be able to help people and feel like you're doing something of value.

Before I embarked on this career, I couldn't fathom the idea of wanting to work.  It's something we do because we have to, not because we want to, right?

One of the things I learned in the management course in library school was that people are most satisfied with their professional lives when they believe that what they're doing really matters.  I had no frame of reference for that tidbit of knowledge to be useful to me at that time, but for some reason I remembered it when I was doing my fieldwork and a cartoon light bulb went off over my head.

The last job I'd had before my fieldwork was, embarrassingly, being one of those people at a busy intersection holding up a sign for a nearby pizza stand.  My entire job was holding up a sign.  I could have been replaced at any moment by a wooden post.  How valuable do you think I felt?

Then I got to do fieldwork and I got to help people.  Directly.  Even when it was something as simple as showing them how to print or explaining how to figure out a bus schedule, it made me giddy to know that people were presenting me with problems, and I was solving those problems for them.

Do I think I'll ever really accept that I have to give up the better half of my waking day, 5 days a week, to something else with no say in the matter?  No, of course not.  But for the first time I actually understood how working life could at least be bearable.  I realized how true it was that workplace satisfaction comes from feeling like your contribution matters.

The good news about the librarian career is that you do get opportunities to do things that feel like they matter.  So if it were actually possible for me to get fully employed in this field, I really would have something to look forward to.

Not only is the work itself not bad, but add on the fact that, while not many people will ever get rich in this field, librarian is a job that, for now, if you were to get it, you wouldn't be starving (assuming you're not living outside of your means).  Also, that was a lot of commas.

Put that all together and this is a career where I could put in a days work, come home feeling like I did something that mattered, and greet a spouse whom I do not argue with over money all the time because I do not have a minimum wage job that forces us to live check to check, paying off one credit card bill with another credit card, and never fully knowing how we'll make rent.  Instead, we live comfortably within our means and, though never rich, aren't constantly stressed out over money either.  That's a pretty damn good life.  In fact, I couldn't ask for better (I'm already assuming the spouse is hot.  With as hot as I am, it goes without saying).

That's the life I could hypothetically have, if only this profession, as nice as it can be if I ever make it to that side of the rainbow, weren't completely devoid of opportunity.  If only this career path had a somewhat reasonable expectation of job placement, it would be pretty sexy.

Yes, I'm thankful for the fact that librarian would be a good job, of only librarian jobs were out there.  I suppose that's about as useful as saying that I'm thankful for how delicious unicorns would be if only they existed, but hey, I said I was going to say something positive.