My Job Still Doesn't Exist

 I was cleaning up some comments on this blog when one of them lead me to an old post from 2009:

My Job Doesn't Exist

In this post, I talked about how my job is almost entirely made up: I teach people to use things that they only need to use because I told them these things exist and they should use them. In the post I mentioned several tools that no longer exist - I'd completely forgotten they existed, to be honest, and we don't miss them. I wonder how many of the tools I teach people to use today will be forgotten relics of a brief period of time in the near future?

Almost 15 years later, I'm still teaching people to use tools they only need because we tell them they exist, but with slight variations. Instead of "training a unicorn to fly a spaceship", I'm now teaching people what they should now about flying spaceships with unicorns, so they understand the principles and can better adapt to the new spaceships they may encounter in the future and the legendary creatures that might be flying them.

But... 

Teaching transferable skills is all well and good, but - as I have bemoaned many a time - if these skills aren't transferable to a post-apocalyptic wasteland, then what's the good of them?

After the "something that happened", will we need to know how to use a database that uses boolean operators? I doubt it. Will we need a plumber? Yes.

If I run away from this job and move to a quaint sea-side town with a population of 20 farmers, 10 fisher folk and a vet, will these people need me to teach them how to use EndNote? Probably not. Could they do with someone who can make cupcakes and coffee? That's more likely.

What I do isn't real. I don't make anything real.

I need to learn how to bake bread. Bread is real. People will always need bread.

Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash

I Think it’s Only Fair to Warn You…

 A few years ago I bought a T-Shirt that had the quote “I think it’s only fair to warn you that I am, in fact, a librarian” (from the movie The Librarian) on the front of it.

Unfortunately, I bought a long-sleeved women’s shirt from an American store – completely forgetting that American women aren’t allowed to have arms. Or, if they do have arms, they aren’t allowed to wear clothes. As a result, whenever I put the shirt on, I have difficulty bending my arms and spend most of my time with them hanging limply by my side, like that character from Sesame Street who lost his elbow. Needless to say, I almost never wear it.

This is a shame, because I think I should probably go about my business wearing a suitable warning about my librarianship. I think people need to be warned that I have probably done some research prior to coming here tonight, and therefore have unexpected amounts of information about this topic that I ostensibly have no business knowing.

Take the other night, for example. I was at a Foundations course at my local bouldering club. We went around the table introducing ourselves and saying how much climbing we have done. Most people (except for someone who had been roped into trying it for the first time tonight) had at least six months experience; I’d just finished my two-week trial.

At some point one of the other participants asked a question, and I instinctively answered it. I was closest to her when she asked and the course instructor hadn’t heard her, so I just told her the answer. I watched her face move from “oh, okay…” to “…but wait, why would she know?” and I realised I hadn’t mentioned that I’d been reading up on bouldering in the past month or so and watching YouTube videos about it on and off since the last Olympics. I’m a librarian – if I’m interested in something, I look stuff up.

If I can do one thing to make my life worthwhile, it will be to introduce a second librarian stereotype into the mix. I know we’ll never be able to shift the idea of the crusty, old, cardigan-wearing lady in a dusty old building telling people to “shush”, but in library circles we have a completely different stereotype that I think the media would have fun with if they adopted it: The thirty-something person with green hair and tattoos who has always done pre-reading on every topic and will answer questions you didn’t even ask… even if you didn’t want them to.

Granted, I didn’t get tattoos until my 40s and when I coloured my hair I went purple. I’m also nowhere near hipster enough to truly match the stereotype we have within our circles (maybe I should start wearing a vest?), so I’m not personally going to be the biggest flagship for this stereotype. But that’s neither here nor their.

However, the “cardigan-wearing” thing is a keeper. We really do all have one close at hand.