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.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Saturday, November 22, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, November 7, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
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.”
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.”
Sunday, July 20, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, June 16, 2014
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.
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