As a librarian, I feel fortunate to have spent the past 39 years working at the Library of Congress – the nation’s library. And I am convinced that I got my foot in the door by separating myself from the crowd. How did I accomplish that? I told a funny story.
It was 1983 when I graduated with my master’s degree in library and information science from the University of South Florida and applied for a twenty-week intern program at the Library. Fourteen other similarly-situated graduates from across the country and I were invited to DC to compete for five available slots. We would participate in a series of group interviews and one round of individual interviews. Similar but separate interviews would be held for internal candidates, who were competing for six slots.
To say that I was nervous would be an epic understatement. On the Sunday afternoon that I arrived in DC, I walked to the Library’s Jefferson Building to see where that evening’s reception was to be held. I found myself standing in front of the display case holding a copy of the Gutenberg Bible – the first book published with movable type. My knees actually started shaking as I felt the enormous historical meaning of the book in front of me. Of course, in my keyed-up state, my knees were pretty much ready to shake anyway.
That evening, at the get together with the other candidates plus the previous year’s interns, my anxiety bubbled over. The event was held in the Whittall Pavilion, a classy room in which were displayed some of the Library’s priceless musical instruments. The menu was wine and cheese, but I thought it best to stick to ginger ale. The evening increased my unease about the coming interviews as the previous year’s interns described the process, which was to include a five-minute recitation on a topic to be assigned on the spot. WHAT!?
As my jumbled mind took in that information, somehow my right hand had gotten up behind my head, while my left hand held the nearly-empty cup of soda in front of my stomach. Realizing that my elevated hand was somewhere that it didn’t belong, I quickly brought it down toward my side. Unfortunately, as my arm descended, I caught two fingers in the plastic cup, wrenched it out of my hand and propelled it to the floor.
Oh no! I had done it. I was making a fool of myself at the wine and cheese party!
In an instant, I was down on my knees, picking up the ice cubes and depositing them back in the cup. That was the easy part. There remained a small puddle on the lovely carpet of the Whittall Pavilion. I didn’t even have a napkin. So, I used my hand as a squeegee and pushed most of the liquid back into the cup. As I got back to my feet, I noticed that one of the other candidates had her hand over her mouth, and she wasn’t trying to hide laughter. Rather, she looked like she had just seen something terrible happen. She had.
After spending all day Monday learning about the Library from various speakers, the interviews were to begin on Tuesday morning. Shortly before the group convened at 9:00 AM, my nervousness hit its peak. My stomach was jumping, and my hands were cold and damp with perspiration. I stopped at a water fountain that was slightly recessed into the wall. Just as I finished drinking, but before I lifted my head, the Library’s Chief of Recruitment and Placement, Dr. Lombardo, walked behind me, patted my back and said, “Good luck today.”
I wanted to respond, but my mouth was still full of water, and I was bent over the fountain. So, I gulped and jerked my head up. I had forgotten that the fountain was recessed into the wall. My head didn’t get very far as it banged into the top above the fountain. It felt like I had done some severe damage to my skull, and I was positive that many had seen it happen. But Dr. Lombardo had just kept walking, and there was no one else within view. I rubbed my head, gave a silent thanks that I would not be remembered as the interviewee who knocked himself out at the water fountain and headed back for the start of the competition.
The fifteen of us external candidates were divided up into three groups of five. Each group would have multiple exercises in which interviewees could show their knowledge and abilities both as team members and as individuals. There would also be solo interview segments in which a candidate would have a traditional interview with two Library staff members serving on the selection committee. The entire orchestrated set of sessions was to take place over a day and a half.
The very first segment for my group included the dreaded recitation. The five of us were led into a large conference room. Seated at one long table were five members of the selection committee. Directly across from their table and maybe ten feet distant was a matching table that we were asked to occupy. Then each of us was given a customized assigned question and asked to prepare a five-minute oral presentation. I was presented a question about the impact of AACR2 – a revised cataloging code – on users in a university library.
Luckily, I had a lot of thoughts on that subject, and some real experience as a technician making updates on USF library catalog cards. Two pages of notes later, the ten-minute prep period was ended, and the candidate next to me was asked to give his presentation first. When he reached the five-minute mark, one of the selection committee members interrupted, “Thank you very much,” shutting him down in mid-sentence.
I was next up, and surprisingly, it flowed smoothly. That is, it flowed smoothly until I reached the end of my notes, and the timekeeper had not yet said, “Thank you very much.” There I was, finished with what I had to say, but with time leftover. I had not prepared a closing sentence.
I blurted out, “That’s all,” just like Porky Pig at the end of a cartoon, and was immediately so embarrassed that I wanted to disappear. Oh well, once it’s out of your mouth, there’s no way to put it back in. Then I tried to relax and listen to the other three presentations.
When that round concluded, we were given a sheet with seven lengthy questions. We were to pick any one question and once again prepare for a recitation. I chose a question that dealt with the idea of rotating catalogers, who typically work behind the scenes, with reference staff, who typically work in public service. It asked for all of the disadvantages of such rotations. As I scribbled my notes, I reflected on the fact that library schools were emphasizing specialization as the path to obtaining a good position and a “general practitioner” librarian was not an ideal.
Then I recalled a conversation a few months earlier with another library student where we discussed our job goals after graduation. He told me, “I would like to be a real librarian, but I’ll take a cataloging position if I have to.”
Eureka! I nearly laughed with glee as I remembered that example of how library school students were focused on a narrow view of what a librarian is.
During my presentation, I used that anecdote, and it got a big laugh from all five of the selection committee members at the table. When I was finished, the moderator said, “Thank you very much,” with an emphasis on the very.
Although there were still other group interview sessions and a solo interview to come, I am convinced that using a funny story allowed me to stand out in that intern candidate pool. Other selected candidates had some exemplary qualifications. For instance, one was fluent in Russian, and another had a law degree. I didn’t have any such defining formal attribute beyond the baseline qualifications, but I did have a sense of humor. I guess that was enough.