University
By Paul Wiener — Age 64 — Smithtown, NY
Call me stupid, or lazy. Or lucky. I’ve always hated work, but I was taught I had to do it. Not why. I’ve been a librarian in a large university for 29 years. My workday suits me perfectly — except for the odd hour or two when I hate my life. I come in and leave when I want, as long as it reminds one of 9 am or 5 pm. No one cares, since I do my job, which is being here. In my quiet little cubicle next to a wall-sized window, I turn on my computer and proceed to do nearly anything I want for hours. Really. If I’m not on the computer, I read, examine new books, go to meetings…
Sometimes I e-mail people or organizations — just like Herzog — telling them what’s wrong with the world. I’m always right. Everything I do is work-related, I imagine: making lists, writing memos, web surfing, starting projects, writing things, deciding what’s real information, validating the universe. I tell myself I’m there because someone once wanted to employ my mind, and that I was tenured because I was meant to stay. They probably thought everything I did would be potentially fruitful and productive someday. Maybe. So is a library. And perhaps I have been productive enough times, which is why people now leave me alone. My presence has become habitual. This all allows me to collect my salary and benefits without feeling too much guilt.
Nearly everyone here thinks I’m normal. On most days I’m expected to sit at a desk for a couple of hours and answer questions from anyone about anything. Librarians call what other people don’t know “information.” It’s an easy game for me to play, and when it’s not, I can deal with it. I like most of the people I meet or work with, and we’re rarely forced on one another. My boss is a talented bureaucrat; and I’m the boss of no one. I’m supposed to preach the gospel of “library science.” This I don’t do. I love science. What I do is not science; it’s closer to a calling, a bluff, a privilege, a service. I am surrounded by books and words, memos and computers, students, teachers and smart hardworking dreamers all day. Somehow or other I get paid for it, even though I hate work.
Suddenly I’m 64.
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