Not Your Friend

Yes, the more things change, etc.  Take me, for example.  An integral part of my personality is that, whatever job I have had, I have taken a look around, and felt the need to point out whatever is wrong with it.  Asset or flaw?  I don't know.  Sometimes I wish I was as oblivious and acquiescent as my coworkers.  But it's me.


Another thing about me is that I tend to keep a distance from people.  It takes me a long time to develop a comfortable relationship with a coworker, although I think I am polite and friendly enough.  I am reserved.  And I don't befriend customers.  In fact, I get my back up when people assume that because I am behind a service desk, you can get personal with me.  I've always been that way.


Take, for example, my very first full time, career type job, working at the long defunct Almacs Supermarket in Rhode Island.  I worked in the meat department with a bunch of really delightful crackpots.  While you maybe really don't want to know what happened while your meat was getting cut and packaged, I was having a blast.


But I had some skirmishes along the way.  And one that most particularly comes to mind today is that over the big new advertising campaign that Almacs had instituted:  the "Friends" campaign.


You know this routine.  The employees of any given establishment are given a pep talk, telling them that they have to personalize their relationship with the customer.  There are TV ads with smiling people who are most likely not employed by that company, telling you how crazy they are about you, and how they would do just about anything to make you happy.


Our "Friends" campaign came with a slurry of advertising.  It also came with buttons, red ones that said, of course "Friend", and, believe it or not, t-shirts, also very simply declaring, "Friend".  I still have that t-shirt somewhere; it is kind of a souvenir of war.


I, of course, refused to wear the damned things.  I remember telling my boss, "But I'm not their friend."  He was an unusual individual, and he did not fire me instantly, but tried to woo me into his point of view.  Those were the days that bosses had more investment in their employees, and yes, were even their "friends".  Fortunately for me, he too had had his skirmishes with his bosses, and he liked my spirit.


I don't recall if I ever did wear the damned t-shirt at work; I probably wore it as a gag from time to time.  But I am proud that I took that stand.


Now I work at a library, and, although I like most of the patrons just fine, I am not their friend either.  I have had a very small handful of people, one, I believe, become my friend, but trust me, it took a long time, and a lot of polite space for that to happen.


There are actually library groupies, people that feel the need to befriend, in a very personal way, every single person behind the circulation desk.  They are quite persistent, and the more personal they get, the more distant I get, and after awhile, their anger at me actually becomes visible.  There are also people who don't really care to be my friend, but are comfortable asking really inappropriate questions, like where did I get my tan.  Since I am not allowed to say none of your business, I have learned to vaguely smile and say nothing.  When a patron asks, "Where did you get your tan..." followed by, "on the beach?" or "on vacation?" or "in the yard?" I always say yes.


So, no offense, I would like everyone to know that I have always given the best service I can, and I will continue to do that.  If you want to talk about the weather, I can do that, or even what part of Yankee-land we-all came from.  But please don't ask me where I got my dress, or why I am wearing a wrist support.  My job is to be behind this counter checking out your books and answering your library related questions. And I might even like you just fine.


But chances are pretty good that I am not your friend.