iSilence

The computers were down at work today. This may not seem too harsh or even blog worthy, but in this day and age, libraries (where I work) are technology based.

The day took on an interesting hue, as we explained to each person that there had been a power cut overnight which affected our network. Their comments went from reasonable "oh, okay, that makes sense" to rude "but I needed the computer today". Add disbelief "my power was fine and I live in this town" and anger "in this day and age that's ridiculous".

Naturally you wear all this with humour and grace (and coffee, lots of coffee) but what struck me most was the noise in the building. Or rather, the lack of noise. The absence of  noise which, as one borrower said "reminds me of the old days"

How much a part of life are these noises now? 

We don't notice them until we notice their absence. The almost invisible murmur of 16 computer terminals, the quiet tap tap tap of keyboards, the hum and smooth mechanics of the printers, the beep beep beep of the barcode scanners reading each book in and out.

The rustle of body movement on computer chairs, the gliding of the chair wheels as users move from desk to printer to desk, the rifling of paper as they check they have all the pages sprinted that they need,

The almost non perceptible click and slide of a disk drawer or USB key, the quiet conversations people have with themselves while typing and surfing. The clip of headphones being taken off and placed on desks, the small clunk of a mouse coming off the mouse mat while in use. The sigh of frustration or the snort of laughter. 

The quiet chatter of staff saying "go ahead, use number seven" or "I'll come and have a look at why your emails aren't coming up on google" or "you printed twenty pages and only need four? Of course we only charge for the four you needed".

From the desks where people don't use headphones comes the noise of YouTube or the bing bing or gunfire of games. The sound of conversations from one computer user to the next, the awkward conversation at the printer when someone else picked up your printing.

Instead, there is stillness and silence. 

The gentle scrape of a book being taken off the shelf, turned over and maybe placed back. The ruffle of the newspaper readers advancement, the whispered conversation between browsers, the gentle laughter of someone discovering a loved book,

The scratch of a pen, the patter of footsteps and the swish of clothing.

Until you get to the main desk where the staff are waiting. Their constant chatter, letting people know that the self check machine is out of order, yes, the whole system is down, yes it's a pity, no there's nothing we can do and yes our IT department are aware.

The apology that this makes the experience tedious while you wait for us to write down each barcode becomes "wow just like the old days when people had to wait for librarians to write card numbers and rubber stamp the card and the back of the book"

The apology that we can't use the system to search for a particular book for you becomes "lets have a look on the shelf, if that isn't there, there may be something else you'd like to try"

The apology that you can't play the computer this morning becomes "have you seen the comics and graphic novels in the kids section?"

The apology for lack of technology becomes a way to have a conversation, 
a way to let borrowers see there are real people not just self check machines, 
A way to use humour and patience to make the experience more...
Reminiscent?
Human?
Dare I say.. Fun?


While I love and embrace the technology that aids my everyday work, 
that keeps track of our collection,  
that helps people locate their information instantly, 
that helps them connect with the world, 
that means they can remain anonymous, 
sometimes it takes going back to basics, losing the clutter of noise, even barely perceptible noise, to reveal the beauty of the real part of my job. Connections. Connects with technology, information, books, but mostly with people.

Whether they like it or not.