Attack of the puppet managers

By Will Manley
Copyright © 1995 American Library Association.
Reprinted with permission from the publication AMERICAN LIBRARIES.

Picture this: A young children's librarian who is six months out of library school comes into my office for her half-year probationary review. If she passes the review she becomes a permanent member of the staff; if she flunks she's gone.

Even now as she settles nervously into the seat next to my desk, I'm not sure which way to go. Sure, she's an enthusiastic advocate of children's services and yes, she has proven to be a creative, knowledgeable, and well-liked staff member; but there's a certain unpredictability to her behavior patterns that makes the administrator in me very uneasy.

Maybe it was the day she suggested that the library celebrate Halloween by having all the male staff dress as women and all the female staff dress as men that makes me nervous. "Not only would cross-dressing be fun," she said, "but it would be educational. The men would have a chance to understand how our male patrons are often abusive to female staff and the women would get a better insight into the stigma attached with being a man in a female-dominated profession."

Or maybe I'm still a little upset about the time she called me an "old fogy" in front of the rest of the staff when I told her that I didn't want to take $20 000 out of the book budget to start a muitimedia collection. "You said you like employees who are willing to disagree with you and challenge your opinions," she said in defense of the term "fogy."

What's really bothering me, however, is the thought of the day that she came to work and put her wedding pictures on her desk. Ordinarily, of course, this would not be a problem; but in this case the wedding took place at a nudist colony.

So I'm definitely torn. Pass this woman and I can look forward to a crisis du jour; flunk her and I lose the most enthusiastic and creative employee in the library. I decide to wait and see how she handles this littie conference.

"Well, Shelly," I ask in my friendliest voice, "how do you think that your six months here at the library have gone?"

Leave it to Binky

To my surprise, Shelly does not answer the question. A little red finger puppet resting on the index finger of Shelly's left hand does all the talking. "Hi, Mr. Marley. My name is Binky, and it's my professional opinion that Shelly has done very well in her first six months here at the library. Her story times have been very well attended, the kids love her, and no one knows as much about children's literature as Shelly."

My surprise turns to confusion. Is Shelly showing her lack of respect for the evaluation process by treating me like a child? Is she trying to impress me with her flair for risk-taking? Is she flaunting her sense of creativity? Or has six months in the children's library resulted in her complete reversion to childhood?
The most shocking aspect of the experience is that 15 minutes into the interview I find myself holding a serious conversation with Binky, and after a half hour of this dialogue we mutually decide that Shelly is indeed a valuable member of the staff who should be retained permanentiy. The last thing Binky says to me is, "Hey Will, you need to get yourself a Binky."

It's not a bad idea. If communication is the foundation of modern management, then finger puppets have an important role to play. First of all, there are times when you want to toot your own horn but you don't want to appear to be bragging. Like Shelly, you can let a finger puppet do your talking for you.

Conversely, there are times when you have to give constructive criticism. This is very difficult for most supervisors because they are afraid that their employees will end up hating them for being too critical. This sense of personal animosity can be avoided with the third-party intervention of a finger puppet. Instead of saying, "Ralph, it's come to my attendon that you have a bit of a body odor issue to deal with," you can pull out your Binky and let him say, "Ralph, you smell like a buzzard that crawled off of a week-old carcass." This also works well at the reference desk when a patron asks for an audio recording of live dinosaur sounds. You'd like to say, "Congratulations, that's the stupidest reference question of the week!" but that would be rude; so you let your finger puppet say it for you. M.B.F.P. (Management By Finger Puppet) is most effective in staff meetings. Think about it: Wasn't the last staff meeting you attended a boring, nonproductive waste of time? Of course it was; but things would have been much different if every one at the meeting had been required to communicate with finger puppets. The discussion would have been characterized by more fun and openness and less tedium and posturing. If you don't believe me, just try it. I'm serious.

WILL MANLEY's book Uncensored Thoughts: Pot Shots from a Public Librarian, (1994). ISBN 0-89950-992-4, is published by McFarland & Co., Inc., Box 811, Jefferson, NC, 28640, 919-246-4480.

This article originally appeared in the April 1995 issue of AMERICAN LIBRARIES, a publication of the American Library Association, 50 E. Huron St., Chicago, Illinois 60611. Tel: 312-280-4216 Fax: 312-440-0901 Internet: american.libraries@ala.org