Cool it now

There are many things that I wish I could put on my resume as a professional librarian; things that reflect skills that are essential to why I kick ass at work every day. One of those is that I have de-escalatory talents. I am a de-escalator. This does not mean that you can step on me and be whisked down to the MAC counter at Nordstrom. Chances are I am already there anyway. All it means is that I have a way of de-escalating high tension situations. This skill hasn't been tested on anything truly dangerous or anything. If Samuel Jackson takes some hostages, you should still call Kevin Spacey to get them out. But I can, at least usually, diffuse a situation where someone starts to work themselves into a spinny Tasmanian Devil tantrum over their fines, their computer problems, their frustration with our catalog, or whatever it is. This is a skill that any librarian that works with the public or in any form of customer service will develop over time, if they realize how much easier it makes things run. But recently I just recognized that I already had this skill developed, way before library school, and it would have been nice to have tooted my own horn about it before now. It's one of my skeels that pays the beels.

I realized this about myself Friday night, at a party I threw for Nordic Boy's birthday. I rented a private room at a club, where we had a bunch of people come to eat, drink, and play pool. That's right, no velvet rope for this librarian. At the beginning of the night, a few minutes before people started arriving, a drunk, fratty-looking dude stumbled into the room. He decided to give me and two of my friends some lip about something, and as soon as he started, I went into librarian mode. I meet the person's eyes, am not intimidated, and radiate my calm-down-it's-all-good-just-back-it-up power rays. And the dude talked himself out of his slurry huff, put his dander down, and backed out of the room and out of our grills. Come to think of it, my friends were giving it to him too. It was a three-pronged attack. After the incident, I realized it didn't jar me at all. Because I do this at work almost daily. And I don't know where I learned it.

Maybe it comes from having three siblings in my house when growing up and being smaller than all of them. Nothing will teach you how to de-escalate a situation like three people twice your size that are looking for an excuse to kick your ass, or at least sit on you and let one rip. Maybe it's from going to a high school with its share of rough and shady characters, two of which were my friends A. and J., girls that got into fist fights regularly when shown the slightest bit of disrespect. After they got into a tussle at a club one night in 11th grade which resulted in A. tackling some girl off of a dancing platform (ah, my classy past) and breaking her arm, my powers of de-escalation got kicked up even higher in order to help us all avoid future similar situations. Or maybe it was working retail in a mall that sold bridal accessories and dealing with that customer who ordered a BEADED cloth mailbox that would hold wedding cards but got a SILK, NON-BEADED one instead. She put her head down on the counter and cried her eyes out over that one, and it was up to me to calm her down. And I channeled my powers and got it done, no problem. "Missy got somethin to say I ride down the block and de-escalate, bling bling all in your face..." Missy Elliot was talking about librarians, not Escalades, I swear.

So if you have powers of de-escalation, if you can diffuse high emotions by silently willing someone into Serenity Now, consider librarianship. Your powers will be flexed daily.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl