30th Year Reflections/56: Shutdowns and Strikes

“A wide range of academic research across the country, from sophisticated biomedical experiments at the National Institutes of Health to undergraduate political science essays, was being interrupted Wednesday as the federal government shutdown continued for a second day -- with no clear path to a resolution.” — Michael Stratford, Inside Higher Ed, October 3, 2013.

I have lived through few strikes, lockouts, furloughs, or shutdowns during my career; I can count the number on one hand. The only time I have been a member of a union was one summer during college, when I worked for a large rubber company known for its tires, belts, and hoses. During that summer, one of the company’s factories experienced a strike. As a member of the union, I was expected to contribute to a strike fund in support of workers at that factory. I reluctantly paid some of my future tuition money into the fund. I considered the payment, and my experiences over the summer, part of my education. The one time I experienced a furlough (of just a few days) was a year or two ago, the result of a tough economy. I’ve lived through a couple of strikes, and may live through one or two more. But I’ve always been on the “management” side of the equation. My job under those circumstances has been to prepare in advance of the strike and keep the lights on once the strike is underway.

All of which is to say that I cannot fully imagine what my colleagues working in federal government libraries are experiencing right now. What does one do when shut out from their place of work? Are personal finances robust enough to make it through the stoppage? I know I don’t have enough in the bank to make it for very long, if I was locked out and not receiving a paycheck. I’m sure some of my federal colleagues are in a similar position. All of a sudden a host of uncomfortable questions arise: How will I pay my rent or mortgage, my student loans, and other obligations? Will we have enough money for groceries? What do we do without? How long will this last?

My colleagues should not have to ask these questions. If those who govern truly understood our shared social contract, they would never jeopardize the health and security of fellow citizens, especially those in public service. To use an old-fashioned term, our elected officials should be ashamed of themselves. But shame, alas, is out of fashion. It is no longer a prime factor in our common enterprise. And so we turn to other means to declare dissatisfaction. If social media is any indicator, there is an immense amount of frustration among the populace with the government shutdown. The last one of these we lived through was eighteen years ago. I—along with others—voiced my concerns on Facebook. I also wrote and called my Congressman. I will also let my Senators know my perturbations. Informed advocacy is my hammer in the toolbox.

There is another aspect that comes to mind as I think about this disruption in our social fabric: how we relate to those in opposition, on the other side of the table or strike line. If I’ve learned nothing else during my professional career, I have come to value the importance of respect. It is a small but freighted word, one deserving serious consideration and vigilant attention. For some, respect needs to be earned. And in a way this is true. But for me the word has deeper roots. Even before it is earned, respect is there. It has a transcendent quality, connected to our very being. If one takes seriously, as I do, that we are all created in the image and likeness of God, then the very fact that another exists—outside of myself—commands an attentiveness to who and what they are, their needs, desires, dreams, and toils. Respect is born with the beginning of time. But as with shame, I understand that such a view of the cosmos is out of fashion, not useful in our technologically driven, gadget-filled world. We have little or no place for any being higher than ourselves. We are left to squabbling, finger-pointing, name-calling; the worst of who we are. I will seek a more excellent way and continue to live and work within a cosmology and metaphysics that makes sense to me and which never, of its own accord, shuts someone down or out.

30th Year Reflections/40: Performance Reviews

“Since my last report, this employee has reached rock bottom and has started to dig.” — purportedly written as part of a federal employee performance evaluation

I am in the midst of my annual performance review. For me, this time of year roughly equates to a visit with my dentist. But then, such a comparison would be unkind to my dentist. And it would be unkind to my supervisor as well. Both my dentist and my boss are great people. I am more than satisfied with my dentist and I enjoy working for my boss. I know that I will receive a fair, informative, and directive review from my supervisor. She will steer me right when (and where) I went wrong. We will have a meeting of the minds, agree on future goals and objectives, and map a course for the coming year. No, the issue has nothing to do with me and my immediate superior. It is more a question of timing. April, to quote T. S. Eliot, “is the cruellest month.”

It seems to happen to me every year, and always in April. For the past eleven months I will have chugged along at a fine clip, an occasional bump along the way, but nothing drastic. My performance will be fine, meeting expectations (for the most part) and doing what I am supposed to be doing. But then comes April. All at once, like some cruel joke, everything seems sabotaged, everything I thought I’d handled, smoothed out, delivered, or otherwise completed rears up and sneers “No, no, no you don’t. You didn’t do this, you forgot that, this is wrong, re-do that.” Maybe it has something to do with a phase of the moon. Maybe the conjunction of annual reviews and tax deadlines creates strange ripples in the time-space continuum. Maybe the “little people,” now wakeful after long winter naps, are feeling mischievous. I don’t know what the cause of this April sniping might be. All I know is that I’m not fond of April (except for the fact that it usually marks the beginning of baseball season).

I also will admit to a lack of fondness for the review process, although I understand and appreciate its value to me and the institution I work for. If the process is done well, if there are regular meetings to calibrate and adjust performance during the year, if final judgments are viewed as equitable and informed, then the process should be uneventful and relatively pain-free. When the final year-end evaluation takes place there should be no surprises. Each party—supervisor and supervisee—will have been in constant conversation over the last twelve months. Each will know the issues, understand the problems, chart progress, resolve questions, and document actions. The problem lies in our practice. For the most part, even though we may have created a well-defined map or protocol to guide the process, we rarely execute it to perfection. Meetings to touch base and adjust course will be missed or unscheduled. Conversations, questions, issues, or problems will remain unresolved. Lack of clarity, communication, and equitable standards will create problems. We end up with surprises, tension, and an unpleasant review experience.

Thankfully, I think we have a pretty good system. It is not without its faults, and questions continue to surface (e.g. how do you compare the work of an archivist or curator with catalogers, faculty liaisons, subject specialists, technologists, or other professional members of the staff?) In another week I’ll maybe know the answer to that question, or at least how I stack up in the eyes of my supervisor. I have documented my activities for the past twelve months. I have commented on how well (or poorly) I met the goals set for myself last year. I have linked my performance in specific areas to the expectations spelled out in my job description. My curriculum vitae is up-to-date, as is my job description. I’ve spelled out personal goals for the coming year. The immediate question is whether or not my goals help move me, my department, division, and enterprise forward in the next year. I’ll know the answer to that question next week as well. I’m hoping for no surprises and a pleasant experience. Just like a visit to the dentist.