Back when I was the library director of St Patrick's Seminary, I supervised a cataloger, in his late sixties, who consistently dozed on the job. One minute he would be looking at subject headings on his computer screen and the next moment, his head would drop forward, his eyes would close, and he would nap peacefully, leaning slightly forward in his chair.
He was an intelligent, soft spoken man and a fine cataloger, and the staff and I were willing to overlook it. After all, he did wake up on his own ,eventually, and the cataloging area was in a back office of the library, not visible to the public. I did mention his napping to him, and rather than being apologetic, he was very defensive. He had heart disease and was on a new medication. How could I discriminate against someone who combatting illness?
He claimed that he had a long commute and it tired him out.
I, on the other hand, could walk to work.
He accused me of ageism.
I folded...and let it go.
The roof was leaking over the library constructed in the 1890s.
There was fundraising to do.
The Internet was down.....again.
And the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe was approaching and I had to make a display.
All was sort of fine until one day........the West Coast Vocations Directors arrived. These are the men who determine whether they will send students to St Patrick's Seminary, or somewhere else. We all gathered in a central meeting room to show ourselves at our best, and the cataloger, seated in a front row, promptly and conspicuously fell asleep.
One might think that this would reflect poorly upon HIM.
But no. It reflected poorly upon ME.
Soon after the napping incident, I was called on the carpet for poor supervision.
How could I continue to keep this napper on my staff?
And why hadn't I addressed the problem before he napped at a vocations meeting?
At the very least, I should have known to seat him in the back. Or keep him off the mailing list for the vocations meeting.
I spoke with the cataloger again.
He continued to nap.
And when I left the job, he became the new library director's problem.
That was five years ago.
And guess what?
The cataloger finally retired.
That's the good news.
The bad news?
I am now five years older.
I am working at Menlo College in the Writing Center, where occasionally, just occasionally, early in the morning and late in the evening, I have the urge to nap.
I don't, I tell you, I don't.
I get a cup of coffee.
I stretch.
I listen to Aretha Franklin sing "Respect" on my i-phone.
But the urge is there.
I will be sixty in December and there are times I run on empty.
There are times when I have less than that.
And then I have to PRETEND to run on empty.
Remember when Hillary Clinton pretended not to have pneumonia?
I feel her pain and understand the motivation.
I know there may come a time that I have to retire because I have got a negative fuel tank--and hopefully I will be self aware enough to do it--but not yet, Lord, not yet.
The other morning, a colleague a decade younger then me walked into the Writing Center claiming fatigue.
I told him how relieved I was that he was willing to OUT himself as tired.
I confessed that I felt like taking a nap myself--but that until my colleague came out to me, I was scared to admit that to anyone much less than to actually go to my car or an empty office at lunchtime and take a nap.
Heck, I could even go home, I said. I live close enough to the college.
"So here's what you do," said my younger, wiser, mentor.
"Take a blanket and pass out in the bushes outside."
"What?"
"Yes, if you pass out in the bushes, the students will think that you are drunk or stoned, and that will make you seem young and edgy rather than old and tired."
Thankfully, there are still times when my work is incredibly energizing.
I try to capture those moments, literally, to show everyone how energized I am.
This is me on a late shift--I was feeling really good, so I interrupted a group brainstorming session and made the students take this photo at
nine p.m. this past Thursday. They are smiling here because they think I am crazy.
Crazy is better than exhausted.
I felt like Father William, the energetic elder in the Lewis Carroll poem written in 1852.The poem is included in the Adventures of Alice in Wonderland. If you get a chance, read it in full. It is an inspiration..... along with Aretha Franklin. Even if, like me, you have to enlarge the type.
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