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Company or Industry: The City Library
Salary:
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I work as pretty much everyone's b*tch. I'm the 'go-to-gal' if anyone has a problem (or wants to 'delegate' – i.e. pawn off their dirty work on me). When I have a spare minute, I wrap the Inter-Library Loans and take them to the cute courier guy who works upstairs. I work every day after school, and on Sunday afternoons. My average weekday would run something like this. 4:00pm – Psychotic bus driver screams to a halt three or four blocks away from the library (And that's on a good day. As often as not, he misses my stop altogether, and I'm late). I have to sprint to get to my workplace before the (slightly slow) clock there strikes four o'clock. 4:03ish pm – Burst through the library doors as if I'm being chased by a half-starved pit-bull, just before the clock chimes. Safe! I sit down, panting, only to notice the puzzled glances my superiors discreetly throw my way (I daily have to face the fact that practically everyone in the entire, vast and politically fierce hierarchy of the library is my superior). I act nonchalant, while (fairly futilely) trying to slow my racing heart and calm my gasping lungs. 4:03pm – No more time to sit down! I have to wrap up any Inter-Library Loans that my co-workers have 'thoughtfully' placed on my desk. Oh, joy. I write down long strings of numbers, the address codes of other libraries, and the often absurd and embarrassing titles of the books themselves (This list includes: “Sexual Healing”, “Bad Sex?”, and “Sex for the Middle-Aged Man”. I kid you not. Why people ever request these types of books is beyond me). Then, I bubble wrap, courier-bag, and address each book. It usually takes me about 3-5 minutes per book. This process is repeated up to twelve times, by which time I have a nice little pile of obnoxious yellow-plastic-bagged books just waiting to slip out of my grasp as I take them upstairs. 4:55ish pm – The Inter-Library Loans are generally all wrapped by this time and I need to take them upstairs to the cute courier guy. The elevator is faulty and temperamental (inclined to stop rather suddenly and trap its passengers), so I have to lug all the slippery courier-bagged books up the two-and-a-half flights of stairs. Inevitably, some get dropped, and due to the wonderful, slippery nature of those d*mn courier bags, they skid like toboggans all the way down to the bottom again. I just know that one day, someone (probably one of my many superiors) is going to get blasted in the face with a renegade Inter-Library Loan racing down the stairs at light-speed. Won't that be fun? 4:55ish-5:00pm – I finally make it up the stairs, and balance the stack of pseudo-Houdini books in one hand, while unlocking the door to the upstairs room with the other. I usually misplace my key and end up practically taking off my jacket and shaking it upside down (before realising that I actually left the key in my jeans pocket). Yeah, smooth, I know. 5:00pm – Get inside and curse (among other things) the squeaking floor that announces my entry to the World and his Wife (and the cute courier guy). Smile and make small talk with every single person who catches a glimpse of me going past. Since I am the underling, I have to stand there, smiling and chatting pleasantly, even though nothing could interest me less and I am in fact holding onto a huge pile of rebellious books which defiantly try to escape at every chance they get. Once or twice, they make a real break for freedom, and I end up kneeling on the floor, gathering them all up, while the co-worker who waylaid me still chatters away, encouraged by my plastered-on smile. 5:05ish pm – I eventually make it through the sea of smiling superiors. My face hurts like h*ll from all that d*mn fake smiling. The advertisement for my job said that the successful applicant must be “a cheerful, bright, enthusiastic individual” etc etc, so I can't not smile. Yet another fun way to destroy my will to live. Anyway, I make it to cute courier guy's desk, deliver my stubbornly rebellious load of books, flirt a little (with the first genuine smile of the day), and immediately have to turn around and go back downstairs. Though happily unencumbered by the pile of nightmare pseudo-escapee books, I can't help but wonder if all that effort was really worth it. 5:10pm – Do all sorts of odd-jobs for my superiors. If I finish all of those, I shelve the out-of-place reference books 'til 5:30. Sometimes I stop and read a little, because otherwise the endless letters and numbers of the complicated “Dewey Decimal” shelving system drag on forever in a relentless stream of boring monotony. Take note of a couple of books that look interesting, but then laugh inwardly, because all my time is taken up by school, homework, and this lifeless lump of a job. I have no spare time in which to read them. 5:30pm – I have succumbed to the temptation and begun listening to my mp3 player. With 'Three Day's Grace' blasting through the earphones, I fail to hear my superior approach, until it's too late, and they scold me for “listening to music when I should be helping the library's patrons with their inquiries”. I ignore this reproach as gracefully as possible, and leave lightheartedly – it's finally time to go home! 5:30-5:45pm – Waiting for the bus. I forgot that public transport is always late. 5:45ish pm – Catch the bus and give my fare to the wilting bus driver. It's so encouraging to place your life in the sweaty, overworked, under-rested hands of a man who looks like he's just about to fall down dead (or at least unconscious) from the heat, isn't it?. By this point, I'm too tired to care, too tired to plaster on the fake smile. I get some strange glances on the bus - it must look like I'm falling asleep (which isn't too far from the truth). 6:10pm – Arrive home after being on my feet since six o'clock this morning. Voila – my life. This is repeated every day after school, and on Sunday I work even longer – from one 'til four. A word of advice for anyone thinking about becoming a librarian, or a librarian's assistant: Don't do it unless you can stand seemingly endless monotony and being ordered around like a b*tch. Having a good head for numbers and a natural organisation and logic will help, and so will a willingness to take orders and do things quickly, efficiently, and without complaining. Personally, if I had to work at the library full-time, I think I'd go insane. I've tried to paint an accurate portrait of life in the library (though to be fair, I may be a little negatively biased). If you're still keen, all I can say is this. You would be smart to reconsider, but if you don't, Good Luck. |
In your opinion, how do most people get a high paying job?
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