In the meantime, his increasingly bizarre behavior has kept us on our toes.
To protect ourselves and to keep track of his ongoing machinations, Rick and Julie and I have been monitoring Dick's activities very closely. We know that he is actively looking for another job, and last week the director of personnel at the Dallas Public Library conducted a preliminary telephone interview with him. I was not in my office at the time, but Julie was able to hear every word that Dick spoke. We learned that the reason he is looking to change jobs is the overwhelming censorship crisis that has gripped all of Wisconsin. A total fabrication.
We also learned that the reason Dick was unable to keep a January appointment for a personal interview was due to financial difficulties brought on by helping his son through law school. A move to Dallas, he said, would provide an opportunity to live closer to him and his wife in San Antonio.
All hogwash. In reality, Dick has one son who lives in Oshkosh and is a sophomore at UW-O.
Shortly before I went out to get some lunch that same day, I noticed that Dick was in his office with the door closed.
Some clandestine phone conversation? I wondered.
Without giving myself away, I tiptoed toward his office until I could clearly make out Dick's end of the conversation. When I began my eavesdropping, he was in the middle of a series of disparaging remarks about the Head of Information Services. Then he launched into a character assassination of me. To prick his conscience, I opened his door a crack and gave him a look as if to say, "Excuse my interruption, but just what are you doing?" and closed the door immediately. He continued his litany of paranoia for another ten minutes with hardly a pause to breathe. I stood transfixed, listening to the fascinating babble of a potentially dangerous psychopath.
Sitting at my desk when he emerged from his office, I calmly waited for Dick's inquiry.
"Did you want to see me?" he asked.
"Sorry to barge in on you like that, but I just wanted to know if we're having a department head meeting this afternoon."
His hands trembling visibly as he fumbled with the buttons on his overcoat, he made some feeble excuse about a last-minute book talk he had to prepare for.
On Thursday, the day before the library board meeting, we discovered that a petition supporting the administration of the present director was making the rounds of the library. Not too many people had signed, and of the majority who did, most do not know what is going on or wanted to avoid making waves. Rick made a copy, after which I suggested to Julie that she make a copy of it using Dick's typewriter. Sure enough, the man had authored his own petition of support.
He had also typed an anonymous letter which he dropped in front of the office door of a former board member. What an opening:
Dear Carl, (the board member's name), How could you put the screws to your good friend Dick Miller?
Rick read as much of the letter as he could over Dick's shoulder when Carl paid a surprise visit to library to show Dick the letter.. Rick said it included conscious misspellings and grammatical errors, as if the writer as attempting to disguise his identity. He described Dick shaking from head to toe as he was holding the letter and pretending to read it.
Maybe all of this isn't making sense to you the way I am putting it down on paper. I am so disgusted and bored with what I do here that I find it very difficult to maintain sufficient attention span to deal with anything library related. I hope that I can experience a feeling of renewal once Dick finally leaves. Otherwise, nothing is going to help, not even a move to another library job. Until I regain my enthusiasm, OPL is going to be nothing but a dead end. Sometimes I feel as uncomfortable and frustrated here as I did during my last six months at G. & C. Merriam.
I am still playing the piano regularly but feel that I am quickly approaching the point where it is necessary for me to take lessons so that I can work toward a series of specific and immediate goals. Right now I seem to be meandering, though I do spend quite a bit of time memorizing old pieces, a total of nine so far, with three to work on this weekend.
I'm sure that there is more to write about, but my mind hasn't been too sharp lately.
Maybe it's just the February blahs. The temperature is supposed to reach the mid-forties this weekend. If the wind isn't too strong, I'll have to take a frenzied bike ride. Clean out the tubes, get the blood moving at a summertime flow.
Winter has been little appreciated this season. I am ready for an early spring.
Related posts:
No comments:
Post a Comment