Checked Out: Cinderburg Part 18
My own well-intentioned missteps with my coworkers and patrons alike filled that spring season at Cyprus, not to mention the exhausting change of pace due to my promotion. I went from planning nothing more than one party game a week (which only a teen or two participated in anyway) to planning actual programs again. I supervised a bigger team. I manned a desk in a department with patrons who actually wanted my help. There was no longer any downtime at work and I was constantly busy.
But through the exhaustion, I was elated to be working with kids again.
I wanted to believe our department grew stronger each day, but a feeling of limbo persisted for both Alicia and Amy. Alicia wanted a plan. She wanted to know what her position had in store for her future. Amy would have wanted the same if not for her pregnancy. Her previous health issues sent her flying into a panic anytime the slightest discomfort presented itself (which, again, was always gas).
The teen department was the only other department that faced worse instability at the time. Dominoes fell soon after my promotion. Rumors swirled that the hiring freeze would continue into the next fiscal year.
Barb had never wanted to run the department and suddenly being thrust into that situation made her perpetually stressed. Summer quickly approached, which caused her panic to mount ever higher. The thought of being alone in that room all summer was too much. I understood. I had done it myself the year before. The workload wasn’t what got to you, but handling the daily teens on your own did.
Barb met with Sylvia repeatedly that spring to discuss my replacement. Each time, Sylvia had nothing new to tell her. The budget cuts were deep. The hiring freeze might last a long time. Administration would say no more than that.
Frustrating limbo seemed to be the theme for everyone at Cyprus.
Luckily for us, another branch closed for renovations around this time and we obtained a temporary teen assistant in Jack, a mellow and super chill guy. His arrival was planned for the beginning of the summer.
I looked on with a small amount of jealousy. Already Barb was in better shape than I had been one year earlier. But I’d been able to handle it. I reminded myself that Barb never wanted to be in charge.
These plans were set in motion as April began, and it was around that time that I also realized I’d never received word about the interns, which was strange. I’d just assumed that since the children’s librarian had been the intern coordinator in all the years the program had been in place, that I would also be the intern coordinator once I took on the role. But if I was, shouldn’t I have received training before then? And details? Surely at least one email should have come my way. I’d been planning for their arrival for the last few months, after all. And not a word had been said to me about them.
I finally emailed Sylvia about it, asking when they’d start, what information we had about them, and when I’d start training.
Her response was short and to the point.
“They’ll get here at the end of May. Barb is the intern coordinator. You’ll need to talk to her.”
First denial and disbelief. Then confusion. That couldn’t be right. Barb was the intern coordinator? Barb? But… I’d been making plans. Barb was overwhelmed. Barb hadn’t spent a summer there before, I had.
I knew why Sylvia had done this. First, she wanted to give Barb the opportunity to build her management and supervisory skills. But she’d already done this by giving her supervision of the branch volunteers.
Second, she wanted to wrest all the control away from the children’s librarian role. Not because I now filled it, but because Pam had been filling it. Before her exit, Pam had her hand in everything, exerting more control over the branch’s daily operations than the actual manager had. Sylvia saw an opportunity to redistribute things more evenly.
She just neglected to tell anyone.
It was at this point that I really began to notice what my biggest gripe in the library workplace was and had always been: lack of communication.
By the nature of libraries, all staff at one point or another have to make various calls and have shared responsibilities that require everyone to be on the same page. And for some reason, I’d found myself in yet another branch with a group of coworkers who, either by design or by accident, didn’t share pertinent information with everyone else.
In my experience, this led to moments where I looked anywhere from clueless to unprepared, which made me feel like a doofus. I may be many things, but I am not a doofus.
I was starting to think this lack of communication, of information, was a systemic problem in libraries in general. And as someone who had studied both communication and information studies at length, and being in the information field of libraries, I found it unacceptable.
I didn’t need to know everything, but I did need to know some things. This was one of those things that would have been nice to know.
I pushed away my annoyance and focused on the positives. The interns would be there in a little less than a month. We’d all soon have help and in the meantime, I’d have time to coordinate my projects with Barb for their benefit. Besides, with my own increased workload, it was probably a good thing I wasn’t the coordinator. I just needed Barb to reach out to me and start a dialog.
Sylvia, having read my email, realized no information had gone out to anyone regarding the interns at all and must have told Barb to let everyone know her intern plan. Not a week had passed before Barb emailed everyone. We finally had their names and start date. At the end of the email was the following line: “We’re changing up how the interns are used this summer so that we have a bit more use of them in the teen room.”
This was vague, but mostly perplexing, given the only extra help they needed in the teen room was regarding monitoring the teens themselves. And interns from high school were not going to be much help on that front.
Barb said nothing else about the interns until a week before their arrival and I was getting peeved. At that time, staff didn’t have many opportunities to meet as a team, so it wasn’t surprising we weren’t told things face to face. But emails existed! And yet, we received no further emails. I was impatient to know more, especially before the children’s intern even arrived.
I finally stopped Barb one day as she and I crossed paths and asked her about the interns’ assignments, bringing up the projects I had set aside for the children’s intern.
“Oh, no,” she said slowly, “They’re both assigned to the teen room.”
I must not have heard her right.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“It’s just, I still don’t have a librarian yet, and I need all the help I can get in the teen room. I need them more in there. I’ll loan them out to other departments on an as need basis.”
She said it in passing, moving around me immediately as if it were no big deal. Later I thought her rush to say that and get away from me should have been a hint that even she knew she wasn’t handling the interns correctly. But I was rooted, working to convince myself that I hadn’t misheard her at all.
Because she didn’t have a librarian, she was getting both interns? BOTH interns?!
My mind immediately went to all the reasons the whole situation was wrong.
- The mountain of projects I’d been saving for almost three months specifically for the interns
- My own history in the teen room the prior summer showed teens wouldn’t engage
- Barb didn’t have a librarian, yes. But she had Jack. More than I had. AND she was getting BOTH interns?
- The fact that I was kept in the dark about their real assignments until a week before they arrived, probably on purpose
- The likelihood that no one else knew of the teen department’s confiscation on all intern assistance
I didn’t want my mind jumping to conclusions, but I couldn’t help it.
I was consumed by two thoughts: the thought of the work I’d have to do on my own because I’d spent months setting aside projects, and the anger I felt at not being told any of this earlier. And both were woven together. Had I been told earlier, even by just a month when Barb had sent her vague email, I could have spent the month of May completing them. Instead, because I’d been kept out of the loop, I’d created more work for myself during our most hectic time of the year.
I was livid.
But it wouldn’t do to lose my cool at work, and if I did, I couldn’t lose it in front of patrons. Then I’d be no better than Jen from Leagos.
I doubled down on my tasks. I stopped setting things aside. I worked on what I could. I kept my distance from Barb so that I could cool down before I said something I regretted. And I prepared Alicia and Amy for the first day of summer.
None of this stopped me from sending an email to Sylvia, because something told me she had no idea how it was all being handled, nor how much it was negatively impacting what was about to be the most popular and in-demand department at the branch for the next two months.
A week later, the perfect storm sprang up at work that left me short-tempered and on edge. Amy procrastinated setting up for a program and continually interrupted me while I opened the library. Then none of our technology wanted to work. And I still had a mound of tasks to do for the rest of the summer.
After an hour of frantically running around and putting out figurative fires, I was able to close myself away in our programming room, sighing and sagging against the door.
And the interns were still on my mind.
They’d started the day before and Barb had kept them secluded in the teen room all day. She barely introduced them to us, though she had asked what time of day we’d likely need their help the most. I had told her before the morning programs began at 10:30, so we’d need them before that time.
I pushed away from the door, thinking of the thingsn I had to do.
I picked up a marker and got to work. Amy burst in.
There were still tech issues.
I rushed to the meeting room with her and fixed it.
I came back to the storyroom and picked up my marker for a second time. Amy came in to ask where a certain set of googly eyes were. I pointed them out, filled with fresh annoyance. Why hadn’t she already pulled her craft supplies together?
It was at this ill-timed moment that Barb entered.
“Hey C. Do you have any projects for the interns to work on?”
We were barely an hour and a half into our workday and I was all out of patience. Before I could stop myself, all my ire erupted.
“I could have used their help 15 minutes ago. It’s all done now,” I muttered, not troubling to hide any venom or petulance.
Everything fell silent. I had never spoken to either of them like this before. The only people I used this tone with were my sisters, never colleagues.
Amy eyed the pair of us. She inched closer to the exit.
Belatedly, I regretted my candor. I bickered with my sisters all the time. I didn’t want to do that with my colleagues, least of all Barb, no matter how annoyed I was with her.
I covered my face with my hands, massaging my eyes.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve-”
“You said you wouldn’t need interns until your program started,” she snapped at me.
I let go of my face, hearing her anger at me. Great, this isn’t what I wanted. I resolved to keep my emotions under control.
“No, I said our program starts at 10:30 and we’ll need their help setting up beforehand.”
“You should have told me you needed help earlier than 10:30 if that’s when you needed help.”
“But I did-” I insisted, but broke off. That wasn’t going to help. I didn’t want to fight. I had a boatload of projects to work on because of her and I wanted to work on them in peace. Amy had almost made it to the door.
Barb’s arms were crossed. The pink undertones of her face grew brighter.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t mean to fight. I’m just a bit frustrated right now because I’m really overwhelmed and I need more help from the interns and volunteers than I feel like I’m going to get this summer.”
I gestured to the teen room door behind her, where the teens waited for instructions.
“I wish I’d been more involved in the intern process. A lot of things were sprung on me at the last minute, which sucks because I made summer plans for the interns months ago and you didn’t tell me your plans for them until last week.”
“It’s a little late to be telling me this now,” Barb snapped at me, shifting on her feet, “I’ve already gone through all the training. If you had wanted to be the intern coordinator, you should have said something.”
Yeah, ding dong. It is a little late, but only because you didn’t tell anyone your plans.
Did I say this? No. But I thought it.
I struggled to keep my attitude at bay, but my annoyance was rising.
“I thought I was going to be the intern coordinator until a month ago when I was told you’d already been given the job,” I paused, looking away to breathe, “I just find it weird that the interns are spending all of their time dedicated to the teen room when the greatest need during the summer is always in children’s-”
“That’s not fair,” Barb broke in, her voice shrill, “That’s not fair to say.”
“Actually, yes it is,” I replied, thinking back to all my summers across every library system. I wondered how much exposure to summer reading Barb actually had. What I knew about her previous summers mostly amounted to helping at preteen summer camps, so I doubted it was much, “Summer reading is when libraries nationwide put most of their efforts towards children’s programming and services. That’s how it works. That’s what the Summer Reading Program is all about.”
I was ready to dive into my history of four different summers in library systems and how I had firsthand knowledge of how much help was necessary for each department. Before I could, however, Barb made a scathing comment.
“You’re being really selfish. You’re just upset because you’re not in control of the situation. You can’t always control everything, C.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. Amy disappeared through the door. Barb clenched her fists at her sides. A desire to defend myself warred with a completely separate desire to hide my face in my hands and sob. No friend had ever spoken to me this way. Would she even listen if I tried to explain anymore? Should I even try?
Running away, blindly sobbing wasn’t going to help the situation. But I could feel the tears pushing their way to the surface.
In a last ditch effort to explain further, I pointed out that she had a whole extra person in her department, which was far more than I’d had last year. I urged her to spread out the interns’ service days, going so far as to request the interns on our busy Tuesdays.
“No,” she said curtly, “That’s my programming day.” And she stormed from the room.
Hands shaking, I recapped the marker I never used and pushed my supplies to the side. I fumbled with my keys to unlock the supply closet door, stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and completely fell apart.
I remember many instances as a child where I sobbed so audibly that I could hardly breathe. But as an adult, this had rarely happened. Crying as an adult normally took the form of silent tears and a sniffling nose.
I’d shrunk back into a child. My frustrations melded with the hurt Barb caused, wondering what I’d done to deserve it and thinking about how Barb could say such things. I know I snapped first. I know I started it all. But I’d tried to apologize. I had apologized! I’d even tried to explain how things worked. But I’d been dismissed and insulted.
I fought to catch my breath as I perched on a stack of tables, knowing I was safe to stay in there for a few minutes while I let it out and composed myself.
When there was a slight break in the tears, I rushed to the staff room, hoping no one would see me in this state, especially my other coworkers. Explanations would only make it worse. Besides, I didn’t want to get into it with anyone else. This was a matter between Barb and I. It would be unfair to share it.
I shut myself inside the staff nursing room and cried until I was dried up and had no tears left to shed.
I texted my manager. There was a staff meeting scheduled that afternoon. I needed to compose myself before then, but I also wanted to talk with her about the argument and the intern situation as soon as possible. She said we could meet right after the staff meeting. I just needed to keep from breaking down until then.
Amy’s program ended, Sylvia arrived, the staff meeting began, and just as quickly ended. As everyone left, I rose to follow Sylvia to her office. Before we could leave, Barb darted in front of Sylvia and said, “I’d really like to talk to you about something important. Do you have time now?”
Sylvia smiled apologetically, “I’m actually about to meet with C. We could meet after that.”
I felt some small twinge of victory, but it did little to lift my spirits.
Once the door was securely shut and we had our privacy, I started from the beginning. I told Sylvia everything. As I unloaded, I realized a big part of my frustration also had to do with the children’s department being treated as an afterthought during our biggest time of year. I told her about my now useless plans and how much catching up I’d have to do all on my own. I expressed my doubts about Barb’s assertions that she needed both interns all summer long.
“Wait a minute,” Sylvia interrupted me, “It was my understanding that one intern would be in children’s reporting to you and the other would be split between teen and adults. Just like last summer.”
Oh ho! So Barb had literally told not another soul about her intern plans. This was further proof to me that she should never have been given this task.
“That’s not what Barb and I argued about this morning.”
I was upfront about everything the two of us said. I was clear about what I had tried to communicate and what I was afraid Barb had heard. I told Sylvia how I knew Barb was dealing with some new and pretty high expectations from us ever since my promotion, how she took on tasks that never should have been expected of her. That she might be overwhelmed because it was too much, but how she was doing an amazing job with all the things that had been thrown at her so far.
“I think Barb is under the misunderstanding that I think she’s doing a horrible job,” I said, “Nothing could be further from the truth. I think she’s doing a great job. I just wish I’d been more involved with this. I wish she’d communicated with all the department heads better. I wish she’d thought of the branch needs as a whole instead of just her department. Because her decision is not just impacting the teen department. Children’s is being hung out to dry.”
Sylvia was sympathetic. She nodded when I paused and showed concern where appropriate. I was convinced she saw things my way and would talk to Barb.
I was so wrong.
Barb met with Sylvia next. I do not know the details of their conversation.
Two days later the meeting that should have taken place three months prior was finally held between Barb, Sylvia, Mia, and I. We discussed summer department needs and the interns. It was essentially a custody hearing with an ex.
Sylvia asked me what I needed. I requested one of the interns for the children’s department like we had every year. Barb countered that she had already set the interns their schedule and she couldn’t deviate one bit from her plan (she could have, she just didn’t want to). Meanwhile, changes happened all the time that I had to adapt to daily, but whatever. She insisted she needed both interns all the time in the teen room. Besides, she said, the interns have an expectation now. And wasn’t the point of an internship to give the interns an experience they wanted?
My brain nearly exploded.
Of course not! Like any job, the point of the internship was to fill an actual need within the organization with the added benefit of teaching them about the field as a whole. No internships, let alone jobs, are ever about giving the interns or the workers an experience they want. What nonsense was this?
I said as much. My counterargument fell on deaf ears.
Sylvia was a people pleaser. And Barb’s point that she’d already told the interns their schedule convinced her to only make the minimum of changes.
After much debate, I was given one intern on two days, and both interns one afternoon.
Despite the agreement, Barb rarely let them leave the teen room to work with me on my assigned days or afternoons. Even if I was waiting for them in the storytime room, supplies sitting out for them, they wouldn’t appear.
The frustrating thing about all this? Every time I walked past the teen room, they were always on a Mac, designing something for the 3D printer or Canva. They hardly got any experience in what it’s like to work in the library field while actual branch needs were completely ignored.
My relationship with Barb never recovered. In fact, I’m convinced Barb was so wounded by our argument that she went out of her way to torpedo my relationship with others at work.
Thankfully, the best people there didn’t fall for it. And I didn’t care what the rest of them thought.
I took special care to not talk about our argument with any of our coworkers aside from our manager because everyone there had to continue to work with both of us. I wasn’t going to purposefully sow the seeds of discord.
Barb had no such qualms. Within a day I discovered she’d cornered Ajay and told him I’d been awful to her. Ajay hardly gave it much thought. That didn’t stop him from letting slip to me that she was talking about the situation.
When she couldn’t trick him into hating me by badmouthing me, Barb turned to Alicia the temp and Sylvia the manager. With my rocky history with Alicia, she didn’t have to work hard on her.
Even after the “custody battle,” things still felt wrong. I didn’t want my first summer to be one characterized by me being walked all over. I wanted to advocate for my department. I obviously wasn’t having much luck communicating my concerns in person. Perhaps an email would be more clear.
I spent some time constructing it and by the time I was done, I felt I had rationally and logically addressed everything that had happened with the whole situation. I hit send. Within an hour, I had a request from my manager for a meeting on Monday.
I agreed, but there was an ominous sense of foreboding.
Next time, my manager follows up with me…
Until then, I remain…
-C Quill
