The good, the bad, and fun vs. learning opportunities

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.

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.