Do It Yourself

Now the electioneering has started in earnest, there is much debate about who should run what, and who should pay whom to run what. One of the more interesting ideas was that public services should be run by the staff themselves, with less centralisation, and thus a more local service provision.
My eyes immediately lit up! I always had a sneaking fancy to be my own boss - a librarian running a library no less! I could order my own stock, my own shelves, my own signage. I wouldn't be "branded" (the painful process whereby the council or governing body for which you work dictate what colour you have to look at all day. George Orwell had nothing, nothing, let me tell you, on some council colour schemes I have seen dreamt up for the purposes of subduing staff. Purple and pink walls anybody? Headache?). I could serve the town where I work instead of the council twenty miles away. I could open when I wanted, and remove books of which I disapproved. "Da Vinci Code? No sorry." I could finally tell the smelly bloke in the corner where to go. The possibilities are endless.
On the other hand - the library might end up being run by a collective of local townsfolk who, whilst well meaning, cannot agree on anything, except that it is a Very Good Thing that they are running the library, and won't things be better, just as soon as they vote on what sort of biscuits to have at meetings and who is to be the treasurer.
So it's an interesting idea. All I know is that someone needs to get a grip. And soon.
What would you do if you could?

The cost/value continuum. Or something.

Well, in common with many public servants, it is now the turn of us library staff to have a review of our usefulness to society, and the value of of our work. And in common with quantum mechanics, this process is so complex and impenetrable that you need a degree in micro physics to work it out.
The local council has been doing its job evaluation for what seems like months, and finally last week we all received a telephone directory sized letter containing our new salary, plus an explanation of how they decided what we should be paid. Professional skills count for nought, with some of our qualified CILIP registered librarians being downgraded. Random groups of staff seem to have been awarded extra pay for duties they do once a blue moon on a Tuesday, which the rest of us are capable of, but don't do regularly. And how do you compare a library which has just two staff, with a large branch library which has local studies specialists and a children's department running activities all year round? All this against a background of a questioning of library services in general - what are we for, who are we for, and who should pay for it, and how much?
Perhaps we should have an X Factor style council vote - give each council service a month or so to prove its worth, appoint a panel of sneering local dignitaries to pass comment, and then let the public vote where their money goes.
"My name is Dorothea, and tonight I'm going to be a slightly aging but vigorous building that has seen better days, containing all the world's knowledge, several tramps, the phone number you will need if the pavement outside your house needs seeing to, a baby morning, illicit sexual thrills (if you know where to look), several hundred years worth of local information, last months newspapers (though unfortunately some with offer coupons missing), and the award the town got in 2006 for best floral display that the council didn't know what to do with."
OR "My name is Egbert, and tonight I am the Pathfinder Project Coordinator for your town. I do flowcharts, and spreadsheets, and PowerPoint presentations, sometimes with a laser pointer for added effect. Last year I came top for cost savings in the quasi local quango sector...hello? Anybody listening?"
It's a no-brainer, surely?

Odd jobs

Well finally finished my chemotherapy, and am making a vague attempt at contemplating a return to library work at some point. Having gone through the treatment, it does make it harder to take the, shall we say, trivial enquiries we get each day. As a way of returning on light duties, I did think I might try to take on some of the odder queries. For instance a lady telephoned the other day and asked when she could make an appointment to have her antiques valued. I did think that instead of explaining kindly that we didn't actually do that sort of thing and it was two years since the Antiques Roadshow had rolled in to town, I would set myself up with a green baize table and a Millers Antiques Guide. Can't be wrestling with tallboys though. Small items only.
I could also tackle some of those accumulated heaps of unidentified stuff that seem to hang around. I know all workplaces have them, but a library seems to attract a very special sort of detritus. For instance mystery account books with a balance in old money that no-one knows where to file. A plaque commemorating a forgotten anniversary, now slightly chipped in one corner. The planning documents for a building that was never actually built. A Heath Robinson style contraption with a slot at one end and a piece of wood at the other, which no-one now remembers the purpose of, but Doreen who used to work here and still comes in on Friday teatime might know something about.
Have you got anything odd in your library?