Checked Out: Cinderburg Part 3
After my poorly timed, yet uncontrollable fever, I returned to work the next day feeling physically better and went back to my training. The next week I went to a different location, still seeking out information on Glen, only to be met with staff members who didn’t have anything to say about him.
Finally my training was done and I returned to Cyprus.
That Monday I received a pleasantly shocking email from Glen, as did everyone else in the branch.
“Hello Cyprus Staff,” he began, “It is with bittersweet happiness that I announce my transfer to the Central Branch in two weeks on April 24th. My last day at Cyprus will be the 21st. I have enjoyed working with you all, but this transfer will give me the opportunity to work with children, which I would like to do. Since this isn’t ‘goodbye,’ I suppose I’ll say ‘see you around.’”
Huh.
Glen was leaving.
I did all that fretting for nothing!
Glen spent the next two weeks sharing every shred of information with me that he could, introducing me to the teen coaches and sharing instructions and contact information, and then he moved on.
With my training over, and without feeling the need to defer to someone so reluctant to be in charge, I felt free to explore our supplies and get to know my new coworkers.
Sylvia, the branch manager, was a woman that I had coincidentally worked with in college. She had been the assistant branch manager when I was a page after graduation. A tall woman with a jolly demeanor, Sylvia was nice and approachable and pulled her own weight. But she was far from the best manager I’d ever had (that prize went to Macy), which I’ll get to later.
The adult department was made up of two people. Mia, the adult librarian, was a soft-spoken creature with the countenance of an angel. I have never seen someone work as calmly and as patiently with some of the most troublesome patrons as I have her. Mia and I shared a lot of physical features: tall, thin, shoulder-length dark blonde hair that could also be called light brown. We unintentionally confused many of our older or foreign patrons as they would often approach me, thinking I was Mia, and pick up a conversation with me where they had left off with her.
Mia supervised Will, the adult assistant. Will had a rushed way of moving around. When he noticed a need, whether it was his responsibility or not, he sprung into action to fix it, often without an explanation or warning. I’d find myself mid-conversation with him, explaining a current problem and he’d jump up before I was done to fix it. I’d stare after him, thinking, “But I wasn’t done talking…” Once, while helping a patron, I called him over and pointed to the problem. Without a word, he jerked the computer forward to jam a thumb drive into a USB port, striking my glasses with the computer screen. Will had energy that he needed to disperse and when he couldn’t do it by performing tasks, he’d sit at his desk, waiting, barely containing himself. The energy came out in nervous tics: jiggling legs, tapping toes, drumming fingers. That, along with Myron’s near constant groans of pain every time he moved and Marilyn’s incessant, longsuffering sighs, drove me mad. That is, until I learned to love my headphones.
The children’s department was run by a woman named Pam. After a few weeks, I could tell why I’d been warned about her. Pam was an exacting task master. If it didn’t look like you were working, Pam investigated. If you cracked a smile or laughed, Pam investigated. If she heard or smelled or saw anything that gave her the slightest concern, Pam investigated. She was a loud, brash, undiplomatic woman who never seemed to know how to speak to people in a kindly way. But I have to admit she had a passion for her job that I had lost years before, and that was admirable.
Pam supervised two amazing children’s assistants: Caroline and Elaina. I grew close to them almost immediately. We’d have daily conversations about our favorite authors, shows, movies, and more. Our time working together was short, but treasured and it’s because of them I discovered Sarah J Maas’s and Laini Taylor’s books, for which I’ll be forever grateful.
Circulation, the largest department, was run by Diane, a calm and observant woman who could cut up just as easily as she could knuckle down. She supervised Zahra and Ajay (the two greatest people in the circulation department), Marilyn (an avid YA reader who never knew how to let go at work), Mikhaila (a Ukranian mystery that I never solved), Martha (a part-time staff member who left us to work in archives), and two staff members from my time as a temp, Myron and River.
Three pages rounded out the staff in the form of Betty, Sophie, and Maddie.
Additionally, there were the coaches who visited the branch weekly. Two gentlemen came on separate days and coached the teens in music production techniques. One had me swooning each time he came in. I don’t know if it was the man bun or the chill attitude or the fact he was a musician. But I could barely function with him around and seized up when he and I interacted. He called the library one time to let me know he was running late, and I was so flustered when I realized it was him that when he asked “What’s going on?” in greeting, I replied with “Really really good good.”
The third coach was a woman named Barb who I got along with immediately. She had an amazing rapport with the teens and could even cajole the most reluctant of patrons to at least try whatever her weekly activity was.
When school was in session, I spent my mornings at the adult reference desk, but by 4:00 I zoomed to the teen room to keep an eye on things.
For the first week after Glen left, I backtracked internally about my initial thoughts. I’d been nervous about working with Glen and was happy he was gone so that I wouldn’t have to agonize over our dynamic. Running the department and handling all the behind the scenes library stuff was easy enough to handle on my own. The supervision of the teen room was a different matter.
Had I been serving a community like Gatherden, being the only person in the department wouldn’t have been a terrible thing. But the community we served in Cyprus was different. The teens in particular were rowdier, and if there wasn’t supervision, physical altercations broke out or library property was destroyed. This happened even if staff was in the room. We needed a second person for that reason alone.
Glen didn’t make his departure easy. During my two weeks of training, he established a new rule, which was surprising given his tendency to shrink away from enforcing rules in the first place. After finding food smashed and stuffed behind books, milk poured on the computer keyboards, and wrappers thrown in between tables and the windows, crumbs scattered everywhere, he’d had enough. Food was prohibited from the teen room.
Personally, I didn’t think it was possible for cool-headed Glen to reach his limit.
Because my return and Glen’s departure coincided with this new rule, and because I actually followed through with enforcing rules, the teens thought I had introduced a strict rule solely because I was in charge now.
Timing was the worst. Every day it felt like I was picking at the teenagers for doing a tiny thing. But I couldn’t make exceptions. Plus, there was a good reason why Glen had introduced this rule before he left, and I saw it firsthand.
I recruited the coaches to help me enforce the rule. The two music guys hardly paid attention, but when they noticed me speaking up, they’d follow it up with “Guys, C said you have to take it outside. Take it outside.”
Barb was much more proactive.
I only told her once about the food rule and she didn’t need any further reminding. She’d beat me to it almost every day, especially with the teens who’d sneak food in.
Next time, I’ll share a particularly perfect story about why this rule was necessary.
Until then, I remain…
-C. Quill
