I love my job. It's no secret that I feel guilt for leaving Sam even though it's only a few hours a week but all that guilt seems to melt at the door when I enter the library. I love being surrounded by books, all of them eagerly waiting to see if today is the day that I pick them. Will it be the unloved, plain-bound Tennyson that I take home with me? Or the shiny new Jennifer Cruise chick lit novel? Maybe a craft book? I've learned never to predict what might come home with me; invariably I bring home more than I bargained for and certainly more than I was looking into getting. I'm hopelessly drowining in a reading pile I can't get through by the due date but that's just how I like it. And I'm fine-exempt which helps too.
But even more than the books (if that is possible) I love the people. It's not just my coworkers although they are a great bunch of individuals. I love the patrons that come to the desk excited about a request coming in, embarassed about fines, upset about items that they claim are returned or simply beat from the day or from life and looking for some kindness. That last type is my favorite kind of person even though they invariably prove to be the patrons with the most difficult problems. I've found that smelly and homeless people really like me, probably because I listen to their stories. And at the end of the day, isn't that the heart of my job? Listening to people's stories, giving them a sense of connection, helping them with their problems whether that means chasing down a lost item or simply being there for them to vent...it's that part of my job that I love the most. That part of my job makes me feel like 9 hours a week makes a difference.
The books are really just a perk.
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