Do you remember the old family memory game, ‘I packed my bag, and in it I put ….’ Each successive person has to remember the list, and add something else.
Today, I both literally and metaphorically packed my bag. At the end of the working day, I took home my thick lever-arch file containing Stationers’ Hall research notes. It used to live in the research lab until it ceased to be a working space for staff researchers. Then it had an honoured shelf behind my desk in the library. Then my desk moved to another office, I got a smaller desk in the new office, and lost all but one of my shelves. It’s time for my research notes to go home, one file at a time. Research is something that often lends itself to working from home, though I don’t know where I’ll put the extra files!
Mondays at One: Strings
Since this is a memory game – I also attended a lunchtime concert of the Strings Department, to give myself some more enjoyable memories of my final weeks as a librarian. I heard a fabulous piece by Schnittke for violin and accordion (Suite in the Old Style, op.80); Beethoven’s Piano Trio, op.70 no.2 and Suk’s Piano Trio, op.2. Unfortunately, I had to get back to work after my lunchbreak, so I missed Bartok, more Suk and – sadly – Mancini’s Pink Panther. Ah, well. I did gather some pleasant memories, and I hope I get to hear that Schnittke again in that setting one day. It really was lovely! The original violin and piano piece is very charming, but it was even nicer with accordion instead of piano.
Post Script.
Today’s treat was lunch and a book at Waterstone’s. Research files have all gone home. Bookshelves empty and desk surface clear. (Should I go now?!)
I only have to get through another eight weeks (and one of those is holiday) before I cease to be a librarian. Strangely enough, when there’s a thin chink of light through the slowly opening door, the frustrations of the job seem all the more irritating!
The Pressure to Get Things Done
For example, I’ve been ploughing through a pile of cello music needing cataloguing, and was feeling at least content that the pile was shrinking – when another big pile appeared uninvited beside me. Did you hear the silent scream?
‘We want to squeeze the most we can out of you’, came the joking comment the other week. (It was a joke, I hope!) I feel like a tube of toothpaste. (At least the McAulay is just retiring, to focus on research activities – unlike the empty tube of Macleans, destined for the bin!)
Time for tea yet?!
But this afternoon, continuing to catalogue jazz CDs (I’ve done nearly two thousand in recent years) was enough to drive me almost round the bend. It’s so repetitive, like being on a factory production line – there’s absolutely no creativity in it, and very little job satisfaction! What’s more, peering at the tiny print on the back of the CDs is not easy at the best of times. It’s even worse when my left eye is doing much of the work of the right one whilst it recovers from surgery. Both eyes end up dry and sore, to add to the tedium of the task itself. And then, when I glumly reflect on how little CDs get used these days…
To make things a bit better, I’m trying to come up with fun things that I can inject into the routine of my final few weeks. In recent weeks, I’ve given a NAG (National Acquisitions Group) webinar; attended the Books and Borrowing Database launch; given the Transformations lecture; and there will hopefully be a workshop at the end of this month.
I’m also managing to get to a few lunchtime concerts, to brighten things up a bit more. This week, we’ve had the ‘PLUG’ festival of new student compositions, so on Monday I went to a thoroughly enjoyable concert of music for accordion-plus-one (or two or three) other instruments. Friday, I’ve got a ticket for another concert with a professional ensemble.
I’m racking my brains for other enjoyable activities, but there are limits to what I can come up with! Any sensible suggestions gratefully accepted …?
The government moved the goalposts – when I started work, I imagined I’d have retired by now. Instead, I’ve worked an extra five years, with one more to go. I shall hit 66 in summer 2024. I don’t want to retire entirely, but I must confess I’m utterly bored with cataloguing music! (Except when it turns out to be a weird little thing in a donation, perhaps shining a light on music education in earlier times, or repertoire changes, or the organisation behind its publication – or making me wonder about the original owner and how they used it … but then, that’s my researcher mentality kicking in, isn’t it?!)
Status Quo: Stability and Stagnation
Everyone knows I’m somewhat tired of being a librarian. Everyone knows that my heart has always been in research. Librarianship seemed a good idea when I embarked upon it, and it enabled me to continue working in music, which has always been my driving force. But the downside of stability – and I’d be the first to say that it has been welcome for me as a working mother – has been the feeling of stagnation. No challenges, no career advancement, no extra responsibility. Climbing the ladder? There was no ladder to climb, not even a wee kickstep! (I did the qualification, Chartership, Fellowship, Revalidation stuff. I even did a PhD and a PG Teaching Cert, but I never ascended a single rung of the ladder.)
In my research existence, I get a thrill out of writing an article or delivering a paper, of making a new discovery or sorting a whole load of facts into order so that they tell a story. I love putting words on a page, carefully rearranging them until they say exactly what I want them to say. I’m good at it. But as a librarian, I cannot say I’m thrilled to realise that I’ve now catalogued 1700 of a consignment of jazz CDs, mostly in the same half-dozen or so series of digital remasters. (I’d like to think they’ll get used, but even Canute had to realise that he couldn’t keep back the tide. CDs are old technology.)
The Paranoia of Age
But what really puzzles me is this: when it comes to the closing years of our careers, is it other people who perceive us as old? Is age something that other people observe in us? Do people regard us as old and outdated because they know we’re close to retirement age?
Cognitive Reframing (I learnt a psychology term!)
Cognitive reframing? It’s a term used by psychologists and counsellors to encourage someone to step outside their usual way of looking at a problem, and to ask themselves if there’s a different way of looking at it.
So – in the present context – what do other people actually think? Can we read their minds? Of course not. Additionally, do our own attitudes to our ageing affect the way other people perceive us? Do I inadvertently give the impression that I’m less capable? Do I merely fear that folk see me as old and outdated because Iknow I’m approaching retirement age? A fear in my own mind rather than a belief in theirs?
How many people of my age ask themselves questions like these, I wonder?
Am I seen as heading downhill to retirement? Increasingly irrelevant? Worthy only to be sidelined, like the wonky shopping-trolley that’s only useful if there’s nothing else available?
Is my knowledge considered out-of-date, or is it paranoia on my part, afraid that I might be considered out of date, no longer the first port-of-call for a reliable answer?
When I queue up for a coffee, I imagine that people around me, in their teens and early twenties, must see me as “old” like their own grandparents. And I shudder, because I probably look hopelessly old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy. But is this my perception, or theirs? Maybe they don’t see me at all. Post-menopausal women are very conscious that in some people’s eyes, they’re simply past their sell-by date. I could spend a fortune colouring my hair, and try to dress more fashionably, but I’d still have the figure of a sedentary sexagenarian who doesn’t take much exercise and enjoys the odd bar of chocolate! (And have you noticed, every haircut leaves your hair seeming a little bit more grey than it was before?)
Similarly, I worry whether my hearing loss (and I’m only hard of hearing, not deaf) causes a problem to other people? Does it make me unapproachable and difficult to deal with? I’m fearful of that. Is it annoying to tell me things, because I might mis-hear and have to ask for them to be repeated? Or do I just not hear, meaning that I sometimes miss information through no fault but my own inadequate ears? Friends, if you thought the menopause was frightening, then believe me impending old age is even more so. I don’t want to be considered a liability, merely a passenger. And I know that I’m not one. But I torment myself with thoughts that I won’t really be missed, that my contribution is less vital than it used to be.
Gazing into the Future
Crystal Ball Gazing
I wonder if other people at this stage would agree with me that the pandemic has had the unfortunate effect of making us feel somewhat disconnected, like looking through a telescope from the wrong end and perceiving retirement not so much a long way off, as approaching all too quickly? The months of working at home have been like a foretaste of retirement, obviously not in the 9-5 itself (because I’ve been working hard), but in the homely lunch-at-home, cuppa-in-front-of-the telly lunchbreaks, the dashing to put laundry in before the day starts, hang it out at coffee-time, or start a casserole in the last ten minutes of my lunchbreak. All perfectly innocuous activities, and easily fitted into breaks. But I look ahead just over a year, and realise that I’ll have to find a way of structuring my days so that I do have projects and challenges to get on with.
Not for me the hours of daytime TV, endless detective stories and traffic cops programmes. No, thanks! Being in receipt of a pension need not mean abandoning all ambition and aspiration. I want my (hopeful) semi-retirement to be the start of a brand-new beginning as a scholar, not the coda at the end of a not-exactly sparkling librarianship career. If librarianship ever sparkles very much!
I’m fortunate that I do have my research – I’m finishing the first draft of my second book, and looking forward to a visiting fellowship in the Autumn. As I wrote in my fellowship application, I want to pivot my career from this point, so that I can devote myself entirely to being a researcher, and stop being a librarian, as soon as I hit 66. And I want to be an employed researcher. I admire people who carve a career as unattached, independent scholars, but I’d prefer to be attached if at all possible!
Realistically, I will probably always be remembered as the librarian who wanted to be a scholar. At least I have the consolation of knowing that – actually – I did manage to combine the two.
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 