Twelve Angry Librarians

“We’ve considered the matter carefully, and the committee—again, without you—has come to a decision. I know you have told me at least twice that you are not interested in the position permanently, but the committee and I are asking you to reconsider. We feel that the leadership you have shown—not to mention the letters of support we have received from library staff at all levels singing your praises—is what our library needs.

“We know that it is more usual in academic libraries for the director to have a PhD or at least a second master’s degree, but we think in your case neither of these is important. You have the administrative and leadership skills we value, and we sincerely hope you will consider taking on the task.”

I sat there, stunned. I probably looked like a goggle-eyed fish, but I was having trouble taking it all in.

I wasn’t here to address a complaint against me by Gavin Fong. Instead, they wanted me to be the director of the library.

“You don’t have to give us an answer right away,” Forrest said. “I know this perhaps comes as a surprise to you, but if you have any interest in the position permanently, we hope you will say yes.”

Now they all stared at me, waiting for a response.

ELEVEN

I have been known to make decisions a little too impulsively. My gut instinct at the moment told me to tell Forrest Wyatt and the search committee “yes.” I needed to be completely certain, however, that I wanted the job and was prepared to take on the responsibilities it entailed. I had grown quite comfortable with my semiretired life, working only part-time and volunteering at the public library. I loved working with the rare book collection, and I enjoyed my time at the public library. I would have to give those things up if I were going to work full-time as the college library director.

They were awaiting my response. I drew a deep breath, let it slowly out, and then spoke. “I am immensely flattered, not only by this offer, but also by your faith in me. I have been thinking about applying for the job, I must admit, but there are a few things I need to give deep consideration to before I can commit myself either way.” I paused for another breath. “Would it be acceptable if I made my decision over the weekend and communicated it to you on Monday morning?”

“Certainly, Charlie.” Forrest Wyatt scanned the room, but evidently none of the search committee objected. “Monday will be fine. In the meantime, I have asked Penny Sisson, the head of human resources, to talk to you immediately after we break up this meeting. She will explain the salary offer and the benefits and answer any questions you might have. You need to have that information before you finalize your decision.”

“Thank you, President Wyatt, and thank you all.” I rose to my feet as everyone else stood and began to file out of the room.

Once the last committee member was out of the room, Penny Sisson entered, smiling broadly. “I’m so excited, Charlie. I hope you will decide to take the job.” She pulled out the chair next to mine, placed some folders on the table, and began to give me the details of salary and benefits. Still in a bit of a daze, I did my best to follow along and absorb the important facts.

*   *   *

Forty-five minutes later I found a parking spot in the lot behind the Farrington House. Penny Sisson had been thorough—so thorough, in fact, that I struggled to remember much of what she told me. One fact persisted in my memory, however. The salary the college was offering was considerably more than I had ever earned in the public library system in Houston, even as a branch manager of many years’ service. I was comfortably off, thanks to my pension and to my aunt Dottie, who had left me her house and a considerable amount of money. I didn’t need a salary at that level, but there were a number of things I could do with the extra money. Important things like saving money for my grandchildren to go to college, and so on.

I realized at least five minutes had passed since I switched off the ignition. The inside of the car had grown warmer. I got out, locked the car, and then headed for the back entrance. I had to remember to keep an eye out for Gavin Fong today. I didn’t want to encounter him—although a small, and I did mean small, part of me wanted to tell him I’d been offered the job just to see his reaction.

I wouldn’t do it, of course. If he found out, he might attack me again, and the next time I might end up hurt a lot worse.