Checked Out: A Librarian’s Reflections on Toxicity, Mismanagement, and Burnout in the Library Field
Being a communications major, I am someone who enjoys communication. As a librarian, I also love information. Combine the two, and you find yourself facing someone who likes open, honest, and accessible communication that shares important information. This is what I’d come to expect of my colleagues, and honestly, it’s what anyone should expect in their workplaces. Not everything has to be shared, no, but some things should be.
Over the next few weeks we noticed more and more closed door meetings between Susie, Tillie, and Ashley. Ashley and Tillie always seemed to be aware of what was happening and involved in the decision-making process of the branch. Planning phases of whatever was coming up the pike at the library were all helmed by them. Peg, Bonnie, and I were left wondering where we fit in this new regime.
It got to a point where even the circulation staff felt so out of the loop that many of them scheduled individual meetings with branch manager Susie to express their concern over this very noticeable change in the work environment.
I reached that point too not long thereafter. I emailed Susie asking for a meeting, then told Peg what I was about to do, feeling nervous as I was about to have a difficult conversation. I was about to dare to go provide negative feedback to my supervisor in person.
“Good,” she said, “I had a meeting with her about it just last week. Bonnie did too. She needs to hear it from everyone.”
Susie invited me to sit when I reached her office.
She could tell I was nervous, though not why, and offered her patronizing smile to put me at ease.
“I just wanted to bring something up to you that I’m a little nervous about. I don’t think you’ve noticed this change, which is why I wanted to talk with you.”
I paused, taking a deep breath, then I plunged right in.
“Something has changed over the last few weeks. I’m not sure what’s caused it, but communication has just gone downhill lately. None of us know what’s going on at the branch and we don’t feel like we’re being told things anymore.”
Susie was taken aback.
“You really feel that way? Why? Have I done something specifically?”
I shook my head, “Not specifically, no. It’s just things are being sprung on us and we’re not getting any warning like we used to. We just feel like we’re not being told what’s happening. And we’ve noticed you’ve been having more and more meetings with only a few staff members and, well, we can’t help but wonder if you’re only keeping them in the loop now instead of everyone else. We’re just not involved like we used to be and it’s strange.”
Susie asked more questions.
I clarified what I could.
She finally said, “Okay, give me a week to see if I can improve this. Let’s chat again next Friday to see if things are better.”
I nodded, though was doubtful. Something like communication couldn’t be improved in a week, but I thought I’d let her try.
What followed after this were three separate events that directly led to a complete 180 of my opinion of working in Gatherden.
First, I sent an email. Second, I was overwhelmed. Third, we were interrupted in a meeting.
Event the First
The email was a fact-finding mission I pursued to figure out who was in charge of a certain collection because it was unclear to me at the time. I had a proposal for this person. Normally it would have been Tillie, but there was now an Adult Librarian in the mix. But it also could have been Peg, or it could have been unassigned, for all I knew. Hence the reason why I asked the question.
So I typed up an email. It said, “Hello everyone, Who here is in charge of the adult graphic novel collection? I have an idea I would like to discuss with you, but I’m not sure who handles those materials. Let me know when you can! Sincerely, C. Quill.”
Event the Second
The situation of me being overwhelmed was a long time coming. As I mentioned before, our branch hosted six traditional story times each week. Additionally, Peg hosted an after school story time and I hosted a baby signing time. These combined meant that Peg and I both led four story times each week in addition to our programs and responsibilities.
During the summer of 2014, we also began hosting a book club for adults with intellectual and developmental disorders (IDD). Peg particularly fell in love with this program and wanted to participate, though this was an adult program and technically outside of the scope of her position. We created a partnership with a local adult home in order to build the program, but the only time they could come led right up to the start of one of Peg’s story times. Peg desperately wanted to lead one of these book clubs, so I agreed to be available as backup just in case her book club didn’t end in time as the club got going, with the expectation that things would normalize and Peg would take back over.
This was a nice idea, but it ended up leading to a full month of me leading five story times a week while she did just the three. By the end of the month, I was run ragged. Something needed to give.
At one of the few librarian meetings we had during this time, just before we were about to dismiss, I brought it up.
“Actually, before we adjourn, could we discuss workloads? Because I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment.”
Everyone looked at me curiously while I explained the situation. Peg immediately understood my predicament and promised to work on their timing so that it wasn’t such a regular thing.
Susie curtly told me she would look into it.
Event the Third
The interrupted meeting came a few days later. We were in Susie’s office during one of her feeble attempts to make it seem like communication was improving. It was fall break for the local school system, halfway through October, and as was our custom, we played movies on the teen room TV. In the middle of our meeting, Catherine, a circ staffer, knocked on the door.
“Yes?” Susie asked as Catherine poked her head inside.
“There’s a lady out here who says the movie in the teen room is too loud and she wants us to turn it down.”
This was the third day of movies. The volume hadn’t changed from day to day. The movie was going to end in thirty minutes. And the building was unfortunately an open floor plan. You were going to hear anything from any corner of the building.
I glanced at Peg, who said nothing. I glanced at Susie, who also said nothing. So I leaned forward and said, “If you’ll let her know the movie will be over in about thirty minutes, it will be quiet by then-”
The woman burst into the room.
“It’s too loud!” she yelled, “I can hardly think! And there’s no one even watching it!”
“I understand,” I answered her calmly, “But as I was saying, it’s Fall Break. We show movies throughout the week in the teen room as a scheduled program. Today’s movie will be over in-”
“We’ll turn it down for you right away,” Susie assured her with a glare at me.
My face grew hot, but I left it.
After our meeting ended, Peg and I went back up to the desk. Catherine came around the corner while we stood together and I stopped her as she passed by, Peg standing next to me.
“Oh, hey!” I said cheerily, “You know if someone asks for the volume to be turned down, you can do that yourself. You don’t have to come get us.”
“Oh, that’s good to know,” Catherine replied, then indicated the five different TV remotes we had, “But I don’t actually know how to turn down the volume.”
“It’s easy. I’ll show you,” I said, first showing her which remote to use, then pointing to the right button.
“Oh thanks,” she said. Then she stopped and said, “You know, she actually asked for a manager.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. No worries,” I said again, then went back to showing her the remote, Peg throwing in a few quips.
She walked away and I approached my chair. I’d only gone a few steps when Tillie materialized out of nowhere. Tillie, being very short and stout and hovering about two feet below my own head, had a certain knack for this.
“C, can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, waving for me to follow her.
“Sure,” I said.
When we were away from the desk, she leaned in and whispered, “I think Catherine did the right thing.”
I mirrored her lean and whisper.
“Okay?” I replied, my questioning tone indicating she should explain further.
“By coming to get us,” she elaborated, “She said the woman asked for a manager, so she should have come to get us.”
I nodded like it was obvious, pointing behind me, “I agree. She just told me that.”
“Okay, but I just want you to know that she did the right thing.”
“All right,” I said slowly, “Thanks for letting me know, I guess,”
I then turned and went back to the desk to tell Peg of the strange conversation.
Little did I know that these three innocuous things would cause my professional life to implode.
Tune in next time for the scolding of 2014.
Until then, I remain-
C. Quill
