Page 10 of Love in the Stacks
“Yes, of course,” I reply. Then, I hesitate to add, “Look, again, I don’t want to overstep, but you know Herb gave me pretty specificinstructions for my role on this project…” I trail off. Nicole’s mouth is set in a firm line and her eyes glint as if she’s poised to argue with whatever I say next. I choose my words carefully.
“How do you feel about me checking for … red flags in the final list of titles? Like I’ll just look up each one to see if other academic libraries own them, if the content or subject matter might raise alarms—”
“Sometimes the content that ‘raises alarms’ for certain closed-minded people is exactly the content that a particular person might need for catharsis or a sense of belonging or—”
“No, I know … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted, but listen, it’s not me you’re battling here. Really, we don’t know if you’re … we’re … battling anyone. I’m not saying we don’t include the more controversial titles, but we should know that’s what we’re buying so we can be prepared. And if other academic libraries own them, too, it strengthens our case to the administration, if we ever need to make a case to them.”
I hate this—my designated role as the voice of reason. And it’s always been my role in nearly all the interactions I’ve had with other people my entire life. I’ve never really minded before—it’s a responsibility that comes naturally to me—but it’s never felt as … I don’t know, dream-crushy as it does right now on this project with this woman.
“I don’t want to veto anything,” I continue as she glares at me. “I just want to make sure we have a solid, academic case for the books on the list, because that’s what will appease the administration moreso than a touchy-feely…” I hold up my hands to ward off her protest, “whattheywould consider a touchy-feely argument.”
Nicole continues to stare at me, not kindly. Ugh. I really hope she doesn’t think I agree with the “touchy-feely” thing, thatIwould feel that way. But I know, Iabsolutely knowthat the majority of the leadership at this college would feel that way. From experience. From actually hearing the provost use the word “soft” and the phrase “they need to get over it and act like adults” when he was complaining to Dr. Parker about students requesting more gluten-free and vegan options in the dining hall. To his credit, Dr. Parker responded with some stats—apparently right off the top of his head—about the increasing prevalence of gluten sensitivity and how impressed he is with young people these days being willing to act on their convictions. The point is that there are politics at play here, always in everything, and you have to play the game a bit to get things done. Even if it’s not ideal. Isn’t it better to have a slightly toned-down graphic novel collection than no graphic novel collection at all?
“Fine,” she finally grumbles. “In the meantime, I’ll get started writing the proposal and we should be able to submit … what do you think? In the next week or two? How long will your,” she holds up two fingers on each hand and flexes them quickly to indicate quotation marks, “red flag check take?”
“Submitting in two weeks sounds reasonable. Just after Thanksgiving?”
She nods.
I try to shift us back into a more agreeable topic. So far, this project feels like an impossible tightrope walk. I’m balancing betweenmy desire to be a good employee and please my boss and my desire to give Nicole absolutely anything she wants. Not to mention that I actually agree with her. “Tell me more about the titles on the list,” I encourage. “Which ones are you most excited about?”
Nicole eyes me warily as if this might be a trick, but soon she’s practically gushing about the gouache artwork inKingdom Come, the photograph reproductions and devastating details about the Dust Bowl inDays of Sand, and the engaging storytelling inLore Olympus. The tension between my shoulders eases and I settle into listening, mesmerized once again by her energy and passion.
“You know what would be great?” she asks, almost bouncing in her seat now. “If we can, when we get to this point, highlight the graphic novel collection on library social media. Those accounts are super active because the content is always fun. Do you know who manages the library’s social media?”
I clear my throat. “I do.”
“You know who manages them?”
“Uh, no. Well, yes. But I’m saying that I manage the library’s social media.”
Nicole stares at me. “You do?” she asks. “But the posts are so funny!” Once again, she blurts out her thoughts before checking them, and her face turns bright red. “I mean … sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re always so serious.”
Yeah, that stings. At the same time, though, I get it. I do cultivate a serious and quiet persona at work. I’m good at compartmentalizing—at work I focus on work stuff and outside of work I focus on everything else. I don’t mix the two very often. I think of Dr. Parker’sadvice and my own commitment to break out of my comfort zone. If I want Nicole to see me as anything other than a colleague, I have to let her know who I am, including outside of work.
“Actually,” I say, “internet trends and memes are kind of a passion of mine. In my free time, I run a meme library social media account where I try to capture memes from all over the web.”
“Really?” Nicole looks intrigued.
“Yeah,” I shrug. “Curating and collecting memes and gifs is one of my hobbies.” I pronounce gif like the peanut butter because that’s the only correct way to say it and I will die on this hill. If it’s good enough for Steve Wilhite who freaking invented the format, it’s good enough for me.
“That’s pretty cool,” she says, her eyes a little wide as she assesses me.
I smile. Maybe this is progress.
“Yeah. I’ll send you the link if you’d like,” I offer. Internally, I’m pumping my fist. She thinks something I do is cool!
After I go home that night, I sit on the couch with my laptop, scrolling through the hundreds, if not thousands, of memes and gifs I’ve collected so far. I’m looking for something specific. A meme that is funny, but not too personal. One that will make her smile. To say I spend an embarrassing amount of time on this is an understatement, but finally I find what I’m after. I send the image to my work email account and snap my computer lid closed with a satisfied sigh.
Chapter six
Nicole
The day after Adam and I meet to discuss the title list for the graphic novel proposal, a new message pops up on my work account almost as soon as I open the program on my computer screen that morning. It’s from Adam. It’s a square meme with a few lines of text against a solid background:
“I’ve started investing in stocks. Beef, Chicken, and Vegetable. One day I hope to be a bouillonaire.”
I can’t hold back a laugh, even though the joke is hella corny. I shake my head, smiling. Another message pings.
