Nothing Better to Do

I'm at work. Until yesterday, I was pretty enthused about being here. I was liking the job overall, enjoying the tasks, feeling like maybe I could keep my head above water and get everything done until I'd be able to hire someone for the processing position. There are many, many things about my job that I like - cataloging is challenging and interesting, and collection development is almost like being able to buy all the books I want (or, $1200 worth of books a month, anyway) on a huge variety of subjects without having to pay the bills (literally, because I don't live in the library's taxing district). Even the processing that I have taken on since V.W. left hasn't been sooooo bad, although there are things that I'd certainly prefer to do. It's time-consuming and tedious, so it forces me to mentally check out for a few minutes and just chill. Not a bad idea sometimes, when I'm pulled this thin.

But after yesterday, nothing's good anymore. I'm still here, and I'm still doing it, but it's not good.

I met with the person who had to make the final decision about the job I'm posting. The person who had the job before (and just retired) was, in a word, bored with the job, so some changes needed to be made. We've made some changes generally that affect the position, so it's not all that surprising. But I wanted to add some responsibilities and flesh some things out so they were less "assumed" and more "required". I wanted to shift some things that have fallen on me (because I'm willing to take things on if no one else will help) to the new position, because it's more fair and really, some of the things I'm doing aren't worth the time for the head of the department. (I spend way too much time mucking out the stalls.)

I went into the meeting with a clear idea of the boundaries of the job. A specific picture of what I wanted. A list of responsibilities and theoretical qualifications of prospective candidates. A wage range - and the ideal - in my mind.

It didn't take 3 minutes for my happy bubble to burst and settle around me like a clammy shower curtain in a cheap afternoon hotel. Her starting wage was so much lower than mine that I nearly choked. It was barely more than half of what I'd expected to pay, and what I had reason to expect to pay, given the duties that will be asked. The starting wage is considerably lower than that at which the retiree left! And she was making so little that I'm surprised she stayed as long and relatively happily as she did.

The meeting lasted nearly an hour and a half, and I spent most of it cringing, grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw. It was ended when she asked me if someone we both knew was planning to apply for the job, would apply for the job. I answered, "Not at this rate." She responded, "She needs to find a 'real' job, anyway." What the fuck?! Less than a week ago, I had a conversation with the Administrative Assistant of this library, in which I was told the exact amount of payroll carryover we'll have to the next fiscal year. We have more than enough money to pay the rate at which I'd wanted to start this position, even allowing for usual raises for everyone on staff - considerably more than enough. It's absolute bullshit for her to act out her powerplay bigheaded games on me, while I'm doing everything I can to make sure that this goddamned place runs the way it's supposed to.

No more. Not one more goddamned fucking minute. Today is the first fucking day of the new phase. As of today, I am Only Doing My Job. By that, I mean both that I do no one else's job but mine, and I'm staying out of things that aren't my direct concern. All that I get when I try anything else is, amazingly, stabbed in the back and slapped in the face at the same time.

No more.

And I'm surprisingly happy about it.