Higher mii at the LIBRARRYYYYY π¦ππ©π»βπ«ππ¦
To the ever-nebulous Urban Public Library Hiring Manager,
Here we gather in the living room that is this introductory paragraph. Normally I would word salad to you about my years and years of experience and how I would be such an asset in advancing the libraryβs mission of cultivating literacy for all or whatever. But before you auto-reject me for my callousness, let me preface that I want to believe in you and your big big dreams. I tried, I really did. For all of my early 20s, in fact. But like, why keep pretending? We all know this is just another brand of wage slave at the end of the day.
Regarding the position. OF COURSEEEEE I can do the job!!! I wish I could say I was autistic in a way that is unprofitable to you, but unfortunately I have that textbook savant brain where I can master most skills in about an hour and have a near-photographic memory (NEAR! If I was Stephen Wiltshire I wouldn't be working for the man). I already know your ILS. I can find anything on your catalog, and even your website which probably dates to the late Qing. As a non-practicing artist, I will be impeccable with your flyers and book displays, and as a former early childhood paraprofessional, I can prepare for an 80 student class visit with less than five minutes notice. Naturally, I've also acquired practical knowledge that could only be learned in libraries just as institutionally doomed as ours. I can teach auntie how to print a document from her email with monastic patience, do absurdly detailed reference and readers advisory for all ages, spreadsheet the year's budget, monthly statistics, and staff schedules with just a little click-clack, and do basically anything required of this field with expertise and confidence, except hold a conversation. But given that, I'm already steps ahead of the romantasy diehards, weebs, and misanthropes who compose the rest of your application pool.
Don't get too excited about how exploitable I am. Every job is a two-way street, and obviously I'm not just here for that 45k paycheck. One initiative that I highly anticipate launching at your branch is stealing library materials that don't exceed $20 in value. Office supplies. ARCs. Color printing. That jacket in the lost and found. However, I bid you not to upturn your nose at these zillenial kleptomatic tendencies, and first allow me to further discuss the ways I plan to contribute to the libraryβs tradition of building strong communities: Our patrons will be flirting with me. I wish I could say that as librarians, our title as public servants would automatically render us sexless and undesirable. But let's be real: it's just so hard for me when I'm shelving a double-sided cart of nonfiction and the manic pixie dreamboy who's always reading the same books in the graphic novels corner (Saga, Paper Girls, Junji Ito) bashfully approaches and asks, "Didn't we talk on Hinge?" Mayhaps we did, leng zai...But not in the HQ 70s!
As I declined his advances and klutzed away with the bookcart, my skirt conveniently lifted in the wind - and I couldn't even charge him $15 per pantyshot because we're a free, democratic institution. Luckily, I ran into one of our circ assistants on my way back to the workroom, and being a member of the same employee affinity group, we were able to brainstorm innovative informational solutions through the whiskey sours he bought me on our unpaid lunch break. Resulting from this opportunity to foster a sense of belonging, we also planned and hosted the library's first annual late-night staff affinity group mixer, where we ended up tonguekissing in front of our fellow attendees, especially Cheryl from collections (a member of the Caldecott Award selection committee), before stumbling back to mine. Akhil, I know you work for an airline now, but I hope you still believe in the magic of libraries. I know I want to. And manager, I know you do too. Can't wait to hear from you. Miss you. Don't forget to hire me.
Chlamydially yours,
Junni Bearblog. MLIS.