It hasn’t always been libraries with me, but my first job was in a library. All four years of high school shelving books for about $4.75 an hour. I quit when I left for college. Five and half years after that I held a Journalism degree with no intention to become a journalist. Then I bounced around a few retail jobs while working a side gig as a photographer. It was a mostly passion-free zone. The only retail job I somewhat enjoyed was being a bookseller during the crash and burn era of a Borders Bookstore. Good times at a crappy job for little pay at a failing chain store. Also, lifelong friendships. It was a confusing time for me. In the early 2010’s I was doing data entry. Pay was OK, but I was miserable. On the advice of a certified therapist, I quit my job with no parachute. It worked out well, though, after I found a job working as a library assistant. That’s the start of this story. It was the calling that never called. A job at a nice place with nice people doing something I actually enjoyed. Years later it’s become an imperfect career, but I do love it. These are my experiences working with books. I don’t mind romanticizing the image of working in a library, but a lot of it is putting stamps and stickers on things and reading gibberish book codes, while also chasing perverts away from the computers. And, there will be no romanticizing of working at a bookstore. Retail is all bad, but occasionally interesting. Enjoy!
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