"No soup [library service] for you!"

I really enjoy the "Soup Nazi" from Seinfeld. At times, I find I act a lot like the Soup Nazi, especially when patrons don't behave the way I want them to, like following basic rules. I work at a private academic university, and I feel we have a community patron problem. Why do we even have community patrons, you ask? Mainly because we are a partial federal depository library, and we are legally required to allow community users access to our materials. Also, academic libraries generally allow patrons outside the campus community to look at their books, periodicals, etc.

Our community patron, R., doesn't make use of our books. He monopolizes a computer - a computer from which he runs a business. He doesn't understand why he cannot use his cell phone right next to the library computer, in case, as he terms it, of conference calls. When he's on a computer, we have to kick him off so students can use it. He has figured out the student login (not as though that was difficult), so now he has unlimited printing. He never brings his own pens or pencils, so he is always using ours or a student's. One time, he asked to use the reference desk phone, then our personal cell phones because he was having trouble with his. When we all refused, he asked a student to use hers. He constantly has technology problems, which he then needs help solving. We have to constantly remind him that he cannot use the lab, to please take his cell phone calls outside, stop pestering the students, and so on. (As you can tell, he has been the fly in my ointment for a while).

There are all sorts of theories flying around about what he is actually doing. For a while, we were convinced he was running a spam operations because we had to help him with pdf problems. Then, we thought he was running a phone scam because he is constantly asking for and promising large sums of money to people. (He'd also like us to find the number for Goldman Sachs).

I have really worked on my attitude (although it doesn't seem like it). I don't want to be the only librarian who constantly complains about R. My colleagues try to remind me that it isn't my problem; my boss has made a decision to let him stay. For some reason, I find this unhelpful. I can't see a problem like this, where someone is disrupting library service, and not do anything about it. On the other hand, I did not decide to work in a public library, so all I really want to deal with is snotty college students. Upon further reflection, though, I realized that even a public library would not put up with his behavior. I think the problem I'm having comes down to valuation of library services. Apparently, my colleagues and I have a difference of opinion.

D'oh

I'm not sure to what extent we are truly wanting to delve into our jobs here, but I thought I'd share a truly humbling experience I had at work today.

There are three or so main areas I supervise. They all have great people on their teams and have obviously been doing just fine without me. However, there is always room for improvement, and I often play the role of conduit between upper administration and various departments.

In my eagerness to help "fix" things, I didn't realize I was actually muddying things up and inadvertently stepping on toes. One of my employees - Jane Doe - asked to speak with me today and point blank asked me who, exactly, is supervising her department. Is it her or is it me? I had spoken with one of Jane's team members yesterday about some changes I was thinking about making, and then she told Jane (innocently, I think) about them; Jane got upset that I was confusing her employees and not communicating clearly with her at all stages of the change making process.

It was one of those moments where I was utterly caught off guard because I had no idea I was causing problems. I saw an issue and wanted to fix it. But I could also see Jane's perspective because she has a system that has been working for literally decades and there is still a lot I don't know.

I apologized to Jane and there were no hard feelings. Yes, I feel a little awkward, but that will have to pass because I am an adult and she wasn't doing anything out of spite. I appreciated her coming to me before she got really upset and I am pleased with myself that my employees know they can approach me to work through challenges.

So, what are the lessons I learned today?

1. Even if you have nothing but good intentions, something can (and probably will) throw you off guard when you least expect it.
2. Honest communication is absolutely amazing.
3. Your work will always find opportunities to humble you so that you can grow from it. These small instances hone your instincts (and will allow you to have your day in the sun someday, too).
4. While we solved the current issue, this allowed me to pinpoint more of my weaknesses AND my workers'. I am often overly gung ho and trip over my feet like a puppy. My team members have been doing this a long time and can be territorial and slow to change. Neither of us is wrong, but rather we have rough edges to work on. 
5. As a leader - and you're a leader no matter your position on the totem pole - you set the tone for how problems get solved. Empathy, patience, active listening and humility are the keys to survival. It's just as bad to fly off the handle as it is to cry as it is to shut down (and the list goes on).
6. People talk, both innocently and maliciously. Plan how you unveil ideas carefully, even if it makes you feel crazy or paranoid.
7. Be the bigger person. Choose your battles and get over the idea of being a martyr. You should do what is right simply because it is right and nice guys and gals often (always?) finish last. I'm getting pretty comfortable under the bus.

I hope this post isn't obnoxious and I'm sorry if it is. This situation is interesting because there are so many facets - chain of command, opinions on workflow, age differences and new versus old. I'm a fool if I expect everything to be as solved as calmly as this but my organization is a fool to think I'm not going to implement some changes. I hate the idea of people being unhappy, but my greater allegiance is to the ideals of librarianship and service and NOT my personal comfort.

What was I thinking when I went into administration?!

I am not a student, d***it!

I am a relatively young librarian, as I went straight from undergrad into grad school. I am not much older than my students; in fact, many of them are the same age as my younger sister (which makes it weird, because my sister is my best friend). Anyway, I was at a function the other day (ok, ok, church lunch), sitting at an adult table, and everyone who sat down wanted to know if I was a student, and how my studies were going. The same thing happened with my student workers: oh, are you a new student here? No, I'm not.

Whenever I talk to my co-workers about it, I receive the typical "adult" response: well, enjoy it while you can, that won't last long, let's talk when you're thirty. These responses irk me probably as much as when I am mistaken for a student. The reason is probably not what you think. I am not concerned about my peers taking my abilities seriously; there is one thing that I am really good at in life, and that is academia. I am not concerned about students taking me seriously, because they're students. What really worries me is that I won't take myself seriously.

I have been a student for the past umpteen years of my life. It is what I know. I am concerned that I will fall into old patterns. I don't really see myself as an adult at all - in fact, sometimes I worry I act like I'm still in high school. This job is important to me, and I don't want to mess it up because I cannot act like an adult. So every time someone asks if I'm a student, I wonder: am I student? Wait, no, I'm a librarian.