Muchness

I am a librarian, although I have been known to call myself a poser, since I don't work in a traditional library. I have spent the last nearly 9 years of my life in my current job. It has been an awesome job. I have flexible hours, good pay, great co-workers, the best professional benefits I have ever heard of. It is a social change organization, so there is a lot of "We are changing the world!" kind of sentiment. I kind of never really felt it. It was a job that had few bright moments. Even when I did a great job and someone thanked me for helping when no one else would, it was always tainted with horror of what had happened to them that no one would help with. What had happened to make them call me in the first place.

Last October, the library system in the next county was looking for a Children's and Teen Coordinator. A real library position. I love Children's literature and consider myself a YA Fantasy junkie. I could be creative, make people smile, and sing and get paid for it. Even though I was working in a special library, I still kept my professional knowledge up to date as best I could. A friend of mine helped me build a nice, library-focused resume. I got an interview. It went...ok. I felt tongue-tied and stupid. I felt like I didn't answer the personal questions very well. I was so terribly nervous.

I felt like this was my shot, my only shot, because my local county library system didn't hire MLIS degreed librarians for the most part. I kept tabs on what was going on with the administration there and for most of the time, it was pretty chaotic. Sometimes there wasn't a single professional librarian in the system. Then, they hired a new director in late 2008. I immediately noticed the change. Innovation. Progress. I sent him an email letting him know that I could tell he was there and thanking him for his service. I had no hope for our rural library system. He planted some in me that maybe, there was potential. Maybe things could get better.

The interview for the Children's position went better than I had anticipated and I got called back for a second interview. By then, cold feet had set in. It was a HUGE pay cut. There would be evening hours for programming. There would be a pretty stringent schedule because if you tell a community of pre-schoolers that storytime is at 10 AM on Wednesday, your butt had better be there. Plus, there was a commute when I have no commute now. And my kids are still little. I withdrew myself from the interview process. I didn't even have to guts to see if I could get the job. I walked around like a kicked puppy for months because I had lost my "muchness." I had been much more muchier, you know. Now, I was terrified to live my life.

But I still had a good job to comfort me. Nice paychecks, good leave policies. I focused on getting us through our annual conference.

Then in late December I noticed a job ad for my local library system. A professional position at the library right down the road. I hesitated for about 2 minutes before deciding to try again. I could work for this great Director. I could do something special. I could be a "real Librarian." I sent in my resume and got an interview. This time, it felt like magic. I felt confident I could answer all of their questions with ease and professionalism. This was a different position, one requiring more networking and overseeing of programming, rather than actually doing the programming. It was very similar to the position I currently hold. It is right next door to Honey's office. The interviewer asked why I would want the position with such a significant pay cut. I said I wanted to be apart of the positive movement in my community. I wanted to have the opportunity to be creative and help people in a new way. When I got out of the interview, I felt great. I felt like, I had given it every ounce of enthusiasm and knowledge I had. If they chose someone else, that was FINE. Because that person would have to be completely totally awesome to be chosen over me and I wanted the very best candidate in the position. I had done my very very best.

When I got to my car, Honey left a note on it that says, "I know you did great! I am so proud of you. I love you!"

I am going to frame the note and put it in my new office. I got the job.

Later when contemplating this rapid change of events, I thought of a few lines near the end of Barbara Kingsolver's Prodigal Summer. It was a thought Lusa had to herself after receiving the price she would get for her goats.

"By her wits she had made something succeed here, where there seemed to be no hope...She'd have to be resourceful for the rest of her life...She was going to be a woman men talked about."

It doesn't all quite fit. But it brought tears to my eyes. Perhaps I am a Librarian, after all.