SRPL Reflections: Hostility

(It’s time to restart the end of SRPL countdown as it appears we have about a month, perhaps less, so let the SRPL Reflections continue!)When you spend 18 of the last 22 years working in one place living through a number of regime changes is inevitable. At the library I saw my stock plummet and rise from the ashes only to plummet again, all depending on who was in charge.

Like any organization, the library is comprised of several departments that included reference services, clerical services, technical services and business services. I worked in the technical services division (or TSD) and for the majority of my time there I enjoyed an unprecedented level of protection, thanks to my boss.

Like me, he started there when he was in high school and just never left. A capable and organized man, he shrewdly made himself indispensable to the library’s late Director, who even went so far as to call his draft board to delay his induction into the Army so he could supervise moving the library to a new location.

He practically invented the division he was in charge of, or at least radically altered it to suit his own purposes. He was charged with hiring and supervising the kids who shelved the books, but expanded that role to include almost every organizational element of the library. He ordered supplies and furniture, orchestrated moves large and small, and devised methodologies for how work was done in his area.

Over the years, as he cemented himself, many staff members came to hate him for his blustery style and brusque manner. I was well prepared for him when I was hired, and I soon realized that he formed a protective cocoon around his charges. Good thing too, since I was a massive screw up for the first few years.

I really had no idea how to behave in the beginning. I was thrilled to be working along side my best friends and, more importantly, girls! I goofed off constantly with no regard for who was watching. I soon realized everyone was watching. Spies lurked everywhere and the number one spy was my boss’ own sister.

Still, despite innumerable stupid moves on my part, my boss protected me from the scorn that I drew from the old battle axes that populated the place. Within two years, I managed to offend many key personnel by flouting the rules with impunity and a few times my boss had to drop the hammer on me, but I always emerged unscathed.

What really upset these women (and in retrospect, rightly so) was the fact I was a supervisor. I was supposed to be setting an example for the younger kids and I behaved as if I was one of them. When I started dating my first girlfriend I followed her around the building, puppy-dog style, whenever she went out to shelve books, in full view of the rest of the world.

The library’s head of circulation really despised me and she hated my best friend (and fellow supervisor) even more. He committed the unpardonable sin of stealing her treasured cans of Pepsi on a regular basis. And of course my boss’ sister hated us because, despite her constant snitching, something in him refused to commit the ultimate act, that of firing us, even with all the evidence before him.

When he retired and I gave a speech about him I wondered aloud if he hadn’t seen something in us that we didn’t see in ourselves, that he recognized our potential and was willing to let us grow into the roles he gave us.

In 1992 I realized that, as my college graduation approached, I was in no way prepared for the real world and that the job search would likely take months (it took years). I made a conscious decision to adopt my boss’ former strategy. I would make myself indispensable to his operation. Not only that I would curry favor with the biddies that were the eyes and ears of the place.

The strategy worked so well that not only did my boss eventually consider me indispensable; he let me write my own ticket in terms of how often I worked, when I worked, etc. It worked so well with the staff members that I eventually developed friendships with several of them, including my top two arch enemies, going so far as to invite one of them to my wedding! (The other one did not receive an invite because she actively campaigned for my dismissal and I never forgave that.)

Until I ended my first tenure I was the Golden Boy and the Enforcer. I managed to get a few kids fired and probably enjoyed the role a bit too much. I had unanimous approval from the staff and my boss trusted me implicitly.

Then I decided to leave. We all know why, but lucky for me all the good vibes I cultivated sowed the seeds for my eventual return.

When I returned four years later I made it clear to my boss I wanted nothing to do with supervision (or working hard), and was there for “comedy relief and mild productivity.” My rapport with him was much snarkier, but he seemed to enjoy it. About half the staff had left and while I was cool with the old timers I made no attempt to cultivate relationships with the new biddies and they seemed to be like, “Who the hell is this guy?”

I traded on all the slack I developed in my first tenure to slide during my second. Over the years my group became increasingly isolated from the library proper (well, some of us did, me especially) and really made no effort to cultivate a good reputation. Then the bomb dropped. My boss decided to retire.

I neglected to mention another shake-up in personnel that had a negative impact on our position. The former director stepped down due to ill health and was replaced by her assistant director, who definitely had her eyes on the prize.

Little by little she eroded my boss’ authority and he could see the handwriting on the wall. Rather than be forced out (or totally emasculated) he opted to retire after 42 years of service. That sent shockwaves throughout our tiny group and on the day he told me I composed a resignation letter.

He encouraged all of us to stay, as did the director. She even went so far as to say she couldn’t fire us if she wanted to according to Civil Service rules. I realized that quitting was akin to cutting off my nose to spite my face and this gig was just too good to ever give up willingly.

However, he left and with him went that massive umbrella of protection some of us enjoyed for nearly two decades. Just like his authority was gradually eroded our freedoms were encroached on and we were forced to get “in line” with the rest of the place. I’m shocked things didn’t get worse faster. Our boss was replaced with a well-meaning “yes-woman” who thought we should be left alone, but the director made her clamp down on us.

The rest of the staff also smelled blood in the water after he left and soon the snitching and the dirty looks began anew, culminating last year in a series of events that saw us in as vulnerable a position as we ever were in.

The bottom line is that ever since our boss retired we’ve been on a slow death march to the end. Lucky for us, the march lasted four years and enabled us to line our pockets even further. The director is using the pretense of an upcoming renovation to give us the boot. She feels we’re underworked and overpaid and part of a regime she despised and wants to eradicate all traces of.

I shouldn’t be surprised. New regimes always want to do away with all vestiges of what came before and often with no regard for the longevity or contributions of their predecessors. What scares me the most is this situation seems to be a microcosm of my entire life at this point (and that of the lives of those closest to me). Nothing is forever. Everything changes (and not always for the best) and (yikes) is the worst yet to come??