My previous post was pretty grim: it was all about feeling worn out and beaten down by this strike. Well, I'm sure we've all had some really dark moments since this all began. There have been a few setbacks that hit me pretty hard, and I've felt disillusioned and bewildered quite a few times. But fortunately I always feel better pretty quickly, and this is mostly thanks to the caring and intelligent people next to me on the picket lines. Every bad period has been balanced out by something just as good, or at least good enough.
But along with the alternating waves of depression and elation (or at least resignation) there is a lot of anger. I've seen some of my friends and picket-line-mates get damned angry, at management, or our own union, or the situation itself. I tend to do the latter, because it seems to me that the better you know the individuals, the harder it is to blame them. I really like the manager I report to, and I really liked the managers I reported to before her. I also like the members of our union's bargaining team. In a way this makes things harder, because I have to resist my instinct to see everything as their fault. But in a way it makes things easier, because I can't expect any of these people to be any more perfect than I am, and I know that I would be handling things pretty badly if I were in any of their positions. (Okay, *really* badly!)
As someone once told me, what this world needs is "more fun, less learning opportunities." I am going to get this tattooed somewhere, but--looking on the bright side once more--here are some lessons I really have learned and that I'm going to take out into the world with me when this is all over:
--It is always possible to act with grace, compassion, and dignity, even under the toughest circumstances. (Our leader in this strike demonstrates this every day. Who knew that anyone could run a strike like this?)
--People are who they are. The generous, caring people you work with are the same people who will help you out during the strike, whether it's by bringing in food, cheering you up with a funny story, or helping you find a job on the side. The natural leaders at work are the natural leaders on the picket line, taking on extra tasks and inspiring other people with their ideas. (On the other hand, those few people who do as little as they possibly can at work have been doing just the same thing on the picket line. And I remember I used to think that it might be the worksite's responsibility, somehow, when workers were that unhappy.)
--Library workers are truly great people: committed, passionate, idealistic, and generous. I've been able to spend my days with colleagues I never met before, or barely knew, or used to know but hadn't seen lately, as well as my old friends. We've been able to talk, and laugh, and just plain bitch, for hours. If you have to be on strike, these are the people to do it with.
--Library users are truly great people. Talking to our public on the picket line reminds me of all the reasons I got into this profession. They like what we do. They like us. We are not forgotten.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
It's no party (no matter how it looks)
We work hard to keep our morale up, that's for sure. Our union has put on barbeques, a benefit concert, and puppet shows. Unlike the other striking workers I've seen over the years, we aren't generally out there with enraged or beaten-down expressions on our faces. In fact we look pretty cheery on the picket lines.
But we're not. Chatting with my fellow striking union member I've discovered that back at home we're *all* drinking too much, bickering with our partners, doing things like refusing to get out of bed or bursting into tears for no reason, and suffering from a crippling lack of self-esteem that makes updating our resumes--so that we can apply for those rare jobs in other library systems--really hard. (The possible exceptions are the lucky few who have already found other jobs, even part-time. They still have some sense of their value, I guess, as well as a better chance at paying the bills.)
Yes, I'm feeling pretty fragile. My young daughter--seeing my face after yet another discouraging report on the radio news--gave me a hug and said that she still loves me even if I'm on the picket line. My husband told me that, never fear, he is right behind me with whatever I want to do with my life now. (Although I don't think that includes going back to school for yet another post-graduate degree!)
Most of us will be back at work someday. I wonder what kind of people we will be when that happens.
But we're not. Chatting with my fellow striking union member I've discovered that back at home we're *all* drinking too much, bickering with our partners, doing things like refusing to get out of bed or bursting into tears for no reason, and suffering from a crippling lack of self-esteem that makes updating our resumes--so that we can apply for those rare jobs in other library systems--really hard. (The possible exceptions are the lucky few who have already found other jobs, even part-time. They still have some sense of their value, I guess, as well as a better chance at paying the bills.)
Yes, I'm feeling pretty fragile. My young daughter--seeing my face after yet another discouraging report on the radio news--gave me a hug and said that she still loves me even if I'm on the picket line. My husband told me that, never fear, he is right behind me with whatever I want to do with my life now. (Although I don't think that includes going back to school for yet another post-graduate degree!)
Most of us will be back at work someday. I wonder what kind of people we will be when that happens.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Getting through
Okay, after almost two months (two months!) I'm definitely in the acceptance phase. All my routines now revolve around the strike. I can hardly remember anything about my job. I have no idea whether my work clothes fit me any more, because I just put on jeans every morning. And I don't feel bitter at all these days. I know the situation is ridiculous, suspect that we have been out for so long because of some kind of perfect storm of personalities and/or circumstances on both sides, and that there is really no excuse for it. But at the same time I'm now in a phase of not being very upset, because I've almost completely adjusted to my new life as a striking librarian.
The thing is that I'm lucky, because my partner is still working, and we can borrow money for a while until all this gets settled. My family won't go hungry. We'll be in debt, but okay. (At the same time I only have to remember the days when I was single and renting to feel myself starting to panic. Vicariously, for now. Just how understanding can landlords be? And the utilities companies? And what about food? Gas? Even liquor?)
But I try not to think about this too much, mainly because my mental health seems to depend on:
- not thinking at all about the bargaining process
- not thinking (too much) about why we're on strike in the first place
- not thinking about all the stuff we're *not* doing right now
- staying away from bitter, depressing, or angry conversations (or people)
- not thinking about money
- not thinking about my job at all (and especially about what it will be like to go back)
- just making the most out of all this, whether it's chatting with colleagues on the picket line, having a bit of extra time with my daughter, or trying to make myself useful to the union (because yes, it still does feel good to be useful)
Ask any therapist--denial does occasionally have its uses! Especially when you are essentially powerless, and want to get through a bad experience with your spirit intact.
Or that's my theory.
The thing is that I'm lucky, because my partner is still working, and we can borrow money for a while until all this gets settled. My family won't go hungry. We'll be in debt, but okay. (At the same time I only have to remember the days when I was single and renting to feel myself starting to panic. Vicariously, for now. Just how understanding can landlords be? And the utilities companies? And what about food? Gas? Even liquor?)
But I try not to think about this too much, mainly because my mental health seems to depend on:
- not thinking at all about the bargaining process
- not thinking (too much) about why we're on strike in the first place
- not thinking about all the stuff we're *not* doing right now
- staying away from bitter, depressing, or angry conversations (or people)
- not thinking about money
- not thinking about my job at all (and especially about what it will be like to go back)
- just making the most out of all this, whether it's chatting with colleagues on the picket line, having a bit of extra time with my daughter, or trying to make myself useful to the union (because yes, it still does feel good to be useful)
Ask any therapist--denial does occasionally have its uses! Especially when you are essentially powerless, and want to get through a bad experience with your spirit intact.
Or that's my theory.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Time to think, and rethink...
It's been a long time since I posted to this blog. The thing is, I have been determined not to post anything depressing or self-pitying. But being on strike--especially as the days drag on into weeks--is depressing. And it can lead to a certain amount of self pity too.
When the strike started, I tried to imagine just what it would feel like over time. Sure, I expected peaks and valleys in the membership's morale, moments of feeling powerless, other moments of feeling elated, and that unique thrill that comes from fighting for a cause. (I marched in a few demonstrations as a kid, and it was exhilerating. These days you get pepper-sprayed or tear-gassed for that stuff.) I also expected that lots of us would be looking at job postings, some of us would be out there picking up dead-end part-time jobs to pay our rent, and some of us just wouldn't be coming back. But expecting something and actually experiencing it are different things.
For example, I'm hearing about more and more colleagues who have taken jobs outside of our library system, and even outside of libraries. This makes me feel sadder than I would have thought. It's a loss to our library and to libraries overall. But it also makes perfect sense. For the first time since I finished library school, I've also been asking myself if it's time to rethink working in this profession. Being on strike doesn't just shake your faith in yourself, I'm discovering. It also shakes your faith in the kind of work you do. If shutting down a library system for six weeks doesn't seem to matter very much to our public, why should it matter to me? Was I just kidding myself for all those years when I thought what I did was important? Was I really fighting for access to information, intellectual freedom, literacy, helping new immigrants/children/families/the disabled/the disenfranchised, and all that lofty stuff, or was I just helping to keep a building open so that middle-class people could come in to hang out and study and borrow books and DVDs for free? Not to say that those things aren't valuable, but if that's all we're doing, it's no wonder that the community is managing just fine without us.
So I've been scanning the job postings too, and not just for other libraries (as I've always done, mainly out of curiousity), but also in the other fields where I've worked and trained. Maybe it's time to do something else altogether. Maybe it's even time to find a job that doesn't consume all my time and energy. If there's a silver lining to the big black cloud of this strike, it's that I have a little more time with my daughter, who is starting kindergarten next week. Should I be looking for work I can do from home (even partly), or that gives me more vacation? Who needs me more, my family or this public who apparently hasn't missed us all that much while we've been gone?
Yes, I'm feeling disillusioned.
I also keep thinking about that Simpsons episode, Mr Lisa goes to Washington, where--after seeing a politician take a bribe--Lisa suddenly loses faith in American democracy. Once the word gets out that a little girl no longer believes, the entire US government swings into action, whips themselves into shape, and actually enacts various other cliches to prove to her that the democratic system isn't all a terrible lie. So I am holding onto a very silly dream that somewhere someone (in the ALA, maybe?) is worrying about us striking library workers. In response to our loss of faith, somebody is going to descend, from the heavens, from the larger library world, from the government or the community somewhere, to tell us that we do matter, and that the world does care, that the public does love us as much as we've always thought they did. Or not.
When the strike started, I tried to imagine just what it would feel like over time. Sure, I expected peaks and valleys in the membership's morale, moments of feeling powerless, other moments of feeling elated, and that unique thrill that comes from fighting for a cause. (I marched in a few demonstrations as a kid, and it was exhilerating. These days you get pepper-sprayed or tear-gassed for that stuff.) I also expected that lots of us would be looking at job postings, some of us would be out there picking up dead-end part-time jobs to pay our rent, and some of us just wouldn't be coming back. But expecting something and actually experiencing it are different things.
For example, I'm hearing about more and more colleagues who have taken jobs outside of our library system, and even outside of libraries. This makes me feel sadder than I would have thought. It's a loss to our library and to libraries overall. But it also makes perfect sense. For the first time since I finished library school, I've also been asking myself if it's time to rethink working in this profession. Being on strike doesn't just shake your faith in yourself, I'm discovering. It also shakes your faith in the kind of work you do. If shutting down a library system for six weeks doesn't seem to matter very much to our public, why should it matter to me? Was I just kidding myself for all those years when I thought what I did was important? Was I really fighting for access to information, intellectual freedom, literacy, helping new immigrants/children/families/the disabled/the disenfranchised, and all that lofty stuff, or was I just helping to keep a building open so that middle-class people could come in to hang out and study and borrow books and DVDs for free? Not to say that those things aren't valuable, but if that's all we're doing, it's no wonder that the community is managing just fine without us.
So I've been scanning the job postings too, and not just for other libraries (as I've always done, mainly out of curiousity), but also in the other fields where I've worked and trained. Maybe it's time to do something else altogether. Maybe it's even time to find a job that doesn't consume all my time and energy. If there's a silver lining to the big black cloud of this strike, it's that I have a little more time with my daughter, who is starting kindergarten next week. Should I be looking for work I can do from home (even partly), or that gives me more vacation? Who needs me more, my family or this public who apparently hasn't missed us all that much while we've been gone?
Yes, I'm feeling disillusioned.
I also keep thinking about that Simpsons episode, Mr Lisa goes to Washington, where--after seeing a politician take a bribe--Lisa suddenly loses faith in American democracy. Once the word gets out that a little girl no longer believes, the entire US government swings into action, whips themselves into shape, and actually enacts various other cliches to prove to her that the democratic system isn't all a terrible lie. So I am holding onto a very silly dream that somewhere someone (in the ALA, maybe?) is worrying about us striking library workers. In response to our loss of faith, somebody is going to descend, from the heavens, from the larger library world, from the government or the community somewhere, to tell us that we do matter, and that the world does care, that the public does love us as much as we've always thought they did. Or not.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean I'm not on strike
It would be going too far to say that being on strike is kind of a profession of its own, but it certainly is something I have to think--and talk--about seven days a week. Much as being a librarian means a social life consumed by explaining what librarians actually do, being on strike means a social life consumed by talking about the strike. For instance, no, it is not a holiday and I am not "enjoying the break," in spite of what a couple of my in-laws have said, no doubt trying to cheer me up. No, there is no end in sight. Yes, I am doing picket duty. (And, over at city hall, so are other folks with university degrees and professional designations. It's not just the garbage collectors who are out, in spite of what some people seem to think.) And yes, for the record, I am even more willing than usual to let someone else buy this round.
Yesterday I ran into an old friend who used to work for the CBC. He remembers being on strike, and I was grateful for his sympathy. Last week another friend shared his horror stories about a strike on campus, where frat boys ran the picket lines with their cars. Luckily for us, I don't think anyone has physically threatened any library workers yet. And in my tiny social circle no one has told me (yet) that we're lazy bums and should just get back to work. (Although we do get that from some of the public, at least from the types who seem to be spoiling for a fight, and apparently think that library workers, being mostly female and presumably more brainy than brawny, are an easy target. I don't know if they try this with any of the City outside workers.)
The truth is, of course, that almost everyone who's involved with the strike is pretty much powerless. There are hundreds of us on the picket lines, and many, many thousands of residents and visitors who are being affected. But only a handful of people can actually end this.
I know I'm thinking about the strike tonight. I hope they are too.
Yesterday I ran into an old friend who used to work for the CBC. He remembers being on strike, and I was grateful for his sympathy. Last week another friend shared his horror stories about a strike on campus, where frat boys ran the picket lines with their cars. Luckily for us, I don't think anyone has physically threatened any library workers yet. And in my tiny social circle no one has told me (yet) that we're lazy bums and should just get back to work. (Although we do get that from some of the public, at least from the types who seem to be spoiling for a fight, and apparently think that library workers, being mostly female and presumably more brainy than brawny, are an easy target. I don't know if they try this with any of the City outside workers.)
The truth is, of course, that almost everyone who's involved with the strike is pretty much powerless. There are hundreds of us on the picket lines, and many, many thousands of residents and visitors who are being affected. But only a handful of people can actually end this.
I know I'm thinking about the strike tonight. I hope they are too.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Just try to stop us from working!
I've been thinking a lot about the nature of my job and how much it defines me. First, my title includes the word "manager"--although, as you might guess by the fact I'm on the picket line--I'm a union member. Lately I've been asking myself, is the job title just what I do when I'm at work (although maybe this should be in the past tense: "did when I was at work"), or am I really just a manager/supervisor type all the time?
The funny thing is that during the first couple weeks of the strike I was more than happy not to be in charge of anything. I interpreted not working as not managing anything or anyone. And it's great to see different people getting a chance to do different (and important) things, whether it's part-time library assistants taking charge as picket captains or the various workers getting inspired to use their time on the line to help others. (Some have even donated their strike pay to our local's hardship fund. Wow.)
But late last week, I started getting really twitchy. While I know replicating the structures of the library system would be a bit silly during the strike, I started to see opportunities for better communication, for less duplication of work, for division of labour, for collaboration, and all kinds of other things I would be looking out for if I was at work. And not only that, but I had to take it further and button-hole every picket captain and executive member I came across, offering up my (and--I must admit it!--other people's) services.
Okay, so I'm addicted to what I do, and I can't stop myself. (Which--let's face it--is probably why I ended up with the job I have.) But I notice that around now a lot of us are doing the same thing. A children's librarian I really admire is getting some child care organised. An bright and energetic librarian with excellent technical skills is putting together electronic resources. A fellow supervisor (another "manager", in quotes) is coming up with ideas for sharing workers around the different locations. And a nearby little gang of picketers today got very caught up in a discussion of--get this--fiction classification!
We love what we do. Just try to stop us.
The funny thing is that during the first couple weeks of the strike I was more than happy not to be in charge of anything. I interpreted not working as not managing anything or anyone. And it's great to see different people getting a chance to do different (and important) things, whether it's part-time library assistants taking charge as picket captains or the various workers getting inspired to use their time on the line to help others. (Some have even donated their strike pay to our local's hardship fund. Wow.)
But late last week, I started getting really twitchy. While I know replicating the structures of the library system would be a bit silly during the strike, I started to see opportunities for better communication, for less duplication of work, for division of labour, for collaboration, and all kinds of other things I would be looking out for if I was at work. And not only that, but I had to take it further and button-hole every picket captain and executive member I came across, offering up my (and--I must admit it!--other people's) services.
Okay, so I'm addicted to what I do, and I can't stop myself. (Which--let's face it--is probably why I ended up with the job I have.) But I notice that around now a lot of us are doing the same thing. A children's librarian I really admire is getting some child care organised. An bright and energetic librarian with excellent technical skills is putting together electronic resources. A fellow supervisor (another "manager", in quotes) is coming up with ideas for sharing workers around the different locations. And a nearby little gang of picketers today got very caught up in a discussion of--get this--fiction classification!
We love what we do. Just try to stop us.
Friday, August 10, 2007
What this post is not about, and what it is
Yesterday and today I had lots of ideas about what today's post would be about. Here are just three of them:
-managing a strike--insights into management that might come from trying to organise this many people in this many places during a strike
-what everyone's reading on the picket line where I spend my days
-them and us: how the branches and Central are still separate and different during the strike, even when it's different people in each place
***
But it's hard to think about those topics tonight. As everyone who works in our library system knows by now, today we had bad news. The most recent talks, which started on the long weekend, have broken down again. Now it's hard to imagine when we'll be back to work.
Now I'm realising just how much we've all been hoping that this strike was close to being resolved. Since both sides started meeting again, the Facebook posts have been optimistic, and we've been cheerier on the picket line. When our library patrons have asked us when we'll be back, we've been able to say (feeling pretty good about it), "Well, at least they're talking!" We've chatted about how the fact that both sides gave up their long weekend just proves that everyone's serious.
I wasn't in the room where the meetings happened, of course, and no one who was there is about to tell me what was actually discussed (at least not any time soon). But it's hard not to wonder, what the hell is wrong here? Doesn't *everyone* want the libraries to open again? Is there really someone out there who wants this to continue?
There will be people out there who are so angry about their garbage not being picked up that they will say awful things about all of us municipal workers. I know from listening to the radio that some folks would like us all to be fired and replaced with workers who are more compliant.
Today I talked with a library user who was worried about the books he returned to us just before the strike, which are now in some box in our central library instead of on their way to the owning library where he originally borrowed them. He's worried about those books, and about the fines that must be piling up in that other library system. We talked for a few minutes about some possible solutions, and it was really nice, almost like being at work. And for a moment I really remembered what it was like to be providing public service instead of denying it. It was a good feeling.
-managing a strike--insights into management that might come from trying to organise this many people in this many places during a strike
-what everyone's reading on the picket line where I spend my days
-them and us: how the branches and Central are still separate and different during the strike, even when it's different people in each place
***
But it's hard to think about those topics tonight. As everyone who works in our library system knows by now, today we had bad news. The most recent talks, which started on the long weekend, have broken down again. Now it's hard to imagine when we'll be back to work.
Now I'm realising just how much we've all been hoping that this strike was close to being resolved. Since both sides started meeting again, the Facebook posts have been optimistic, and we've been cheerier on the picket line. When our library patrons have asked us when we'll be back, we've been able to say (feeling pretty good about it), "Well, at least they're talking!" We've chatted about how the fact that both sides gave up their long weekend just proves that everyone's serious.
I wasn't in the room where the meetings happened, of course, and no one who was there is about to tell me what was actually discussed (at least not any time soon). But it's hard not to wonder, what the hell is wrong here? Doesn't *everyone* want the libraries to open again? Is there really someone out there who wants this to continue?
There will be people out there who are so angry about their garbage not being picked up that they will say awful things about all of us municipal workers. I know from listening to the radio that some folks would like us all to be fired and replaced with workers who are more compliant.
Today I talked with a library user who was worried about the books he returned to us just before the strike, which are now in some box in our central library instead of on their way to the owning library where he originally borrowed them. He's worried about those books, and about the fines that must be piling up in that other library system. We talked for a few minutes about some possible solutions, and it was really nice, almost like being at work. And for a moment I really remembered what it was like to be providing public service instead of denying it. It was a good feeling.
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