-The Instant Message Scuffle-
Our virtual reference program goes live in less than two weeks. This morning I logged in and sent a salutary message to the reference desk at the main campus. Much later, the main campus reference desk deigned to respond.
I asked if the reference desk would like a trial question, and the response was "sure" followed by "!!!".
Stay tuned, I typed back, and logged into a second session as May_Tag_Man, an appliance repairman forced into early retirement. May_Tag_Man's dream was to start a small Laundromat. He had the skills to keep the machines running, but didn't have much of a head for business.
That was where we came in. He wanted to know if the library could point him toward some helpful "laundry management" resources - and did they have any trade magazines?
This is, I should mention, slow pitch softball,
And they blew it.
The main campus reference desk waited a long time between responses. Sometimes the program indicated that the other user was typing. Then it mentioned that the other user had added text. Then the other user typed again, and perhaps scratched his or her head while staring into space.
After I had made an up or down decision on two books and handled a minor reference question on my own, the main campus snapped to life. Another librarian may have taken control, I can't be sure. The desk jockey's input: a link to the government's census page, and then a cryptic response about "finding the correct NAICS number."
Now, I know, and you know how to work the census page. And if you haven't seen it, you could quickly figure out the system of industry classification numbers, which are linked to state and national statistics. But May_Tag_Man, who can take apart a Buick in an afternoon and drive it to his favorite watering hole the next day, could not. He is not web-saavy. He only made it this far because his eleven year-old grandson is guiding him from keystroke to mouse click. And grandson, who can illegally download music from bands that have been touring longer than he has been alive, has never earned a dime. He doesn't know anything about business or taxes, or NAICS, which is the North American Industry Classification System by the way - you didn't explain that either, did you, you incompetent sows?!
But I let that pass, because staying in character would have required May_Tag_Man to demand the librarian tell him his or her supervisor's Christian name. I asked a follow up question with the implicit "thank you for your time" on deck, prepared to end this charade and swallow my disappointment in my coworkers.
That's when the phone rang.
The librarian who always seems to be on the verge of a panic attack (I like to think that hers is a genuine concern that someone will figure out how useless her position really is) was on the line, with her oh-my-god inflections and hypervenilactation.
"Benedict! Are you May_Tag_Man?"
I exhale and remind myself that I am playing a role.
"Obviously."
"Oh! We didn't know! We thought you might be, but we thought it could be a real person."
My top and bottom teeth have found one another. "It is a real person. And it will be in less than two weeks." So you'd better be ready, I thought.
"Oh! Well, we're very busy down here, and we don't have time for these questions, if you want to talk using your profile that's okay, but we have to concentrate on the serious reference questions.
"You have to take all reference questions seriously." My voice was rising, and I just stopped myself from adding: and if you don't, you're in the wrong profession.
Self-righteous, I know. But true in spirit. And use my profile? What's the point of our trial if it isn't as true as possible, namely, that you'll know very little about the user beyond the clues they choose to give you?
I had to hang up the phone before I said something that would have our bosses filing extra paper, but not before the twit who'd botched the reference question, the experiment, and May_Tag_Man's performance, dared to condescend about how much work I was preventing her from doing.
When I did hang up, I closed my eyes and cursed aloud. Then I told myself that it was my imagination. Everyone I worked with is not incompetent. When I opened my eyes I decided that it was still true. Everyone I work with is not incompetent.
Even so, I'm mailing out cover letters tomorrow.
I asked if the reference desk would like a trial question, and the response was "sure" followed by "!!!".
Stay tuned, I typed back, and logged into a second session as May_Tag_Man, an appliance repairman forced into early retirement. May_Tag_Man's dream was to start a small Laundromat. He had the skills to keep the machines running, but didn't have much of a head for business.
That was where we came in. He wanted to know if the library could point him toward some helpful "laundry management" resources - and did they have any trade magazines?
This is, I should mention, slow pitch softball,
And they blew it.
The main campus reference desk waited a long time between responses. Sometimes the program indicated that the other user was typing. Then it mentioned that the other user had added text. Then the other user typed again, and perhaps scratched his or her head while staring into space.
After I had made an up or down decision on two books and handled a minor reference question on my own, the main campus snapped to life. Another librarian may have taken control, I can't be sure. The desk jockey's input: a link to the government's census page, and then a cryptic response about "finding the correct NAICS number."
Now, I know, and you know how to work the census page. And if you haven't seen it, you could quickly figure out the system of industry classification numbers, which are linked to state and national statistics. But May_Tag_Man, who can take apart a Buick in an afternoon and drive it to his favorite watering hole the next day, could not. He is not web-saavy. He only made it this far because his eleven year-old grandson is guiding him from keystroke to mouse click. And grandson, who can illegally download music from bands that have been touring longer than he has been alive, has never earned a dime. He doesn't know anything about business or taxes, or NAICS, which is the North American Industry Classification System by the way - you didn't explain that either, did you, you incompetent sows?!
But I let that pass, because staying in character would have required May_Tag_Man to demand the librarian tell him his or her supervisor's Christian name. I asked a follow up question with the implicit "thank you for your time" on deck, prepared to end this charade and swallow my disappointment in my coworkers.
That's when the phone rang.
The librarian who always seems to be on the verge of a panic attack (I like to think that hers is a genuine concern that someone will figure out how useless her position really is) was on the line, with her oh-my-god inflections and hypervenilactation.
"Benedict! Are you May_Tag_Man?"
I exhale and remind myself that I am playing a role.
"Obviously."
"Oh! We didn't know! We thought you might be, but we thought it could be a real person."
My top and bottom teeth have found one another. "It is a real person. And it will be in less than two weeks." So you'd better be ready, I thought.
"Oh! Well, we're very busy down here, and we don't have time for these questions, if you want to talk using your profile that's okay, but we have to concentrate on the serious reference questions.
"You have to take all reference questions seriously." My voice was rising, and I just stopped myself from adding: and if you don't, you're in the wrong profession.
Self-righteous, I know. But true in spirit. And use my profile? What's the point of our trial if it isn't as true as possible, namely, that you'll know very little about the user beyond the clues they choose to give you?
I had to hang up the phone before I said something that would have our bosses filing extra paper, but not before the twit who'd botched the reference question, the experiment, and May_Tag_Man's performance, dared to condescend about how much work I was preventing her from doing.
When I did hang up, I closed my eyes and cursed aloud. Then I told myself that it was my imagination. Everyone I worked with is not incompetent. When I opened my eyes I decided that it was still true. Everyone I work with is not incompetent.
Even so, I'm mailing out cover letters tomorrow.
posted by Benedict | 10:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home