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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Tag Archives: work

Safe as Houses

01 Friday Dec 2017

Posted by kittycalash in Museums

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

historic house museums, management, morale, museum practice, work

Collections staff climb wobbly ladders all too often

Someone brought up the Plimoth Plantation workers concerns for safety, and how those outweighed the low wages in their drive to unionize. Uneven streets, low staffing levels and safety requirements placed on them– watching open fires– meant that they were unable to leave the houses even for “nature breaks.” These are all legitimate concerns and the expectation that workers will tolerate unforgiving, dangerous, or humiliating conditions because “it’s all for a good cause” is ridiculous (and, apparently, a darned good way to inspire a union).

The union effort I was part of was not driven solely by low wages. There were other factors, including an executive director with a large but fragile ego, who was inclined to operate rather whimsically. When the drive failed, the need for union was by no means diminished, especially given the retaliations that followed, including the case of a woman who went on maternity leave, only to find on her return that her job had not been saved for her, despite the museum’s need to comply with the FMLA and assurances made before she went on maternity leave.

Bad management makes it hard to get out of bed.

Do not think that cannot happen today, because changes to the terms of employment happen all the time in museums, even when the leave alternate work schedules have been negotiated and put in writing. Museums and their directors are, in general, no more benevolent than any other employer.

But safety seems basic, right? Well….would you like to be the sole person working in a 16,000SF historic house? Granted, no open fires, but you are still expected to answer the door and you will find that people will force their way into the house, even when you tell them the museum is closed. Lucky for you, none of them were threatening.

Some are more equal than others

Except of course the one who was. When the concerns were brought to the executive director, there was a surprising lack of support– It’s one incident. He’s crazy, so what? You’re overreacting. That’s the best neighborhood in [small town redacted]. House staff asked for mirrors at the door and minimum staffing levels of two. Someone suggested maybe Boy Scouts would be good to have come in on the weekend afternoons when the staff person is alone– Boy Scouts need service hours for college applications, after all. In less than a year, the house manager resigned. The exterior lights around the house were not fixed or replaced, and it was pitch dark and empty on the walk to the parking lot. Only when the executive director’s husband said, “Gosh, the parking lot seems kinda rapey when so it’s so dark” did the parking lot lights get replaced– but only the lot, because she used it to park in when she went out to dinner with board members.

The same employer expected staff to come to work even when the water had been shut off at the site all day for repair work; fortunately, they could be convinced to close sites to the public on those occasions. I have worked in modern museum and research facilities without heat, light, or water because no quarter was given, and no exceptions were made for you to work at a different, functioning site.

Toodles might as well have been on security

For years, I was the on-call person for all alarms at the collections facilities. This meant that in the middle of the night, I had to go to the sites if the alarms were tripped. I had to go in alone, and was expected to sweep the facility and site for intruders. Eventually, I talked the police into a policy of staying with me until the sweep was complete, but I can assure you that a 16,000SF facility is creepy AF at 3:00 in the morning when the security alarm has gone off and you don’t know if someone has broken in or not.

Employers send very clear signals about how much they value employees and they punish employees in ways both small and large. Punishing an entire division, and putting the director put on six months probation because the director and division staff tried to follow the employee handbook and procedures to deal with a new hire who turned out to be incompetent and unwilling to work? Not great. The new hire was transferred to another division where the same behaviour played out, and caused great frustration to her new supervisor and colleagues. Eventually, she quit when it became clear that she was going to be let go and could no longer manipulate the system. For a division director to be told, in a meeting with the executive director, that “This isn’t your fault, and this isn’t about you– you’re here because of what other people did,” is not reassuring in the least. Punishing people for trying to follow the rules when the HR staff won’t will not generate good morale, or retention.

Because I said so, that’s why

Employee leaves are another serious pressure point in museums. Often no one extra is hired and no tasks are reduced, but are instead spread across a variety of people. Sadly, when someone like a registrar takes an extended leave, and the museum refuses to reduce collecting or loans, someone has to process all the paperwork. Asking people who are already doing two jobs to take on a third is not uncommon. Directors reveal a great deal about themselves in the response they have when they’re approached with a request to reduce some of the workload because the person covering is burning out. Dismissing the request with “It’s just a few more weeks,” 10 weeks into a 16 week leave with major program planning starting on top of all the other tasks is not helpful, supportive, or collaborative.

Directors who say, “I’m the director, I always win,” when direct reports disagree with them, may find their direct reports seeking work elsewhere. I’ve heard directors complain about having to “seek consensus,” and chafe at having to convince boards to support changes to staff structure. Directors who chastise front line staff in front of the public and shake their fingers in the staff member’s face– and then turn out to be wrong about what they’re upset about, but refuse to apologize– are not as uncommon as you might hope.

Safety. Consistency. Respect. That’s all employees want, no matter where they work. They want policies that are applied equitably, and workplaces that do not place them in danger either by condition of the site or the attitude of the management. When any employer fails to provide those conditions, the result will be low morale and high turnover. The cost of those is significant, both in declining visitor experience and increased training.

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Serious Saturday: Security Concerns

09 Saturday Jul 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Fail, History, Museums, personal

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

historic house museums, Museums, preparations, safety, security, work

Warning: Museum Content Ahead

Woman Selling Salop. William Henry Pyne. The Costume of Great Britain. 1805.

Woman Selling Salop. William Henry Pyne. The Costume of Great Britain. 1805.

Night watchmen. We’ve been over them before, tangentially, but never in an experienced way. Sure, sleeping overnight at museum sites, I’ve encountered the night watchman making his rounds. And as a museum visitor, I’ve met the guards who monitor how I’m wearing my messenger bag, and how close I get to various works of art.

But what I don’t think about enough, and don’t observe being thought about, is the safety of people over objects. The Museum Security Network has posts on art theft, forgery, and vandalism— all of which are important topics– but there’s a clear focus. For years, decades, that was our focus at work: stuff, buildings, not people.

That changed in our Library five years ago with one obstreperous patron who touched–didn’t hurt, but was angry, and put a hand on– one of our librarians. Now we think about books, papers, and people. But it’s hard: for as long as I’ve worked in this field, and it’s fully half my life, I’ve had the mission drummed into me: access. We preserve these materials, these objects, these sites, for the use and enjoyment of the public, and that means everyone.

The radical democracy of object care (everything we own is preserved with the best care we can provide, from 17th century basket to 21st century advertising hard hat) translated for me into the radical democracy of access: everyone gets in. (It helps that I’ve worked at places where we could provide a lot of free access, and where we continue to strive for as much free access as possible.)

Hades atop the front gate pillar

Hades atop the front gate pillar

Everyone gets in. Everyone can appreciate our shared cultural heritage. And then I met Mr Hades. That’s not his real name, but the young man who has been visiting us at the museum (after coming to the library last summer in a quieter mode) has developed an obsession with Hades. He came in Thursday, asking about the front gates, about Hades being the god of Hell, and whether the gates of hell were in our basement. I’ve heard a lot of myths about our basement, but not that one. After ten minutes, and before we could connect to 911, Mr Hades left.

But he was back yesterday, more erratic than before, sunglasses hiding his wide and striking pale green eyes, ranging through the house from front to back streaming a rap song on his phone. He paid for the tour, but left after 10 minutes in the house. He’s clearly been on a tour before.

So we met two police officers from the local substation, and we know to call them immediately if Mr Hades returns. A little research (that’s what we do) turned up a lot of interesting information about Mr Hades, and we suspect that there are officers and judges and guards who are pretty familiar with him, and that he needs help as much or more than he needs incarceration. But he disturbs our visitors, and agitates the staff, and that’s a bad visitor experience. (Thanks to my anti-anxiety meds, I don’t get anxious; I just get a stomach ache and keep talking with Mr Hades to try to keep him focused.)

But last night, talking about safety and Mr Hades with Drunk Tailor, I realized that we don’t think enough about the security of our staff. We put our visitors and our objects before the staff, and that’s not right. This incident made me put the safety of our staff above that of the objects, but we can’t help our visitors be safe unless we take care of ourselves.

oxygen-mask

If your staff members know their routines, know how to respond and have the tools they need to respond, they’ll be better able to care for and direct visitors to safety. I know we have to shift our thinking and procedures where I am; chances are your procedures are up for their annual review, too. For many of us, the new fiscal year has just begun. What better time for review and changes?

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Mopping Up Action

05 Tuesday Apr 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Events, History, Living History, Museums, Reenacting

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

18th century, authenticity, barracks, cleaning, common people, common soldier, interpretation, living history, women's history, women's work, work

Photo by Asher Lurie

Photo by Asher Lurie

This past weekend, I took my show on the road down 95 to Trenton’s Old Barracks Museum, where once again, soldiers’ rooms needed cleaning. Hannah Glasse exhorts servants (housemaids and housekeepers) to clean household rooms daily, and I can tell you this: if you’re cleaning 18th century spaces using period techniques, daily is the way to go.

Unpaved streets and sidewalks meant people tracked significantly more mud and grit indoors, and soldiers would have brought the parade ground indoors every time they crossed a threshold. Not a pretty thing– and then there’s the straw mattresses (to be changed monthly at a minimum), wool uniforms, skin, hair, and vermin that could accumulate as well. Filth: a major contribution to ill health if not managed properly.

DSC_0348

Brandy-new broom sweeps clean. Photo by Drunk Tailor

Being possessed of a particularly detail-oriented mind, I went in search of a more 18th-century correct broom at an affordable price and found a broom enthusiast on Etsy who agreed to make and priority mail custom brooms just in time for the trip to New Jersey. On the whole, I’m very pleased with these. They make a satisfying sound as they move across the floor, and draw a fair quantity of dirt. Turns out that strewing wet sand on the floor before you sweep is remarkably effective and absolutely the way to go. The damp sand keeps the dust down and is swept out the door with the filth without harming the floor.

Mop making: surprisingly contemplative.

Mop making: surprisingly contemplative. Photo by Drunk Tailor

After sweeping, mopping. Once again, I used the lavender-infused vinegar in the mop water (though I forgot to strain the solution this time). The mixture has a unique but not unpleasant smell, and as the floors dry, the room retains the odor, a sure indication of cleanliness.

This weekend was also the first run for a new wool scrap mop, which was proven the best mop yet. Many thanks to my secret source for the contribution to the effort. It’s clear that mops could easily have been made by binding rag strips to pole handles, and whether made by poor house inmates or soldiers, mop making is cheap, low-tech busy work.

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A Side of Oysters

24 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by kittycalash in Art Rant, Events, Fail, History, Reenacting

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

authenticity, common people, history, interpretation, living history, Reenacting, women's history, women's work, work

Or, Fleshing Sexism into History

06512-2

Here’s a bitter blog post instead of the angry one someone expected after the Turkey Shoot. It started elsewhere with a discussion of this print: there’s more going on in this, and in many genre images of oyster girls and oyster sellers, than you notice at first glance. (First glance is that fab-u-lous bonnet.) There are clues, though, that she is selling more than just oysters. It’s a code, remember? The gaze is one clue, though it reminds me of a cholera victim’s languor.

Yes: this image suggests she is also selling herself.

It’s something I’ve thought about doing as part of my street vendor/Bridget impression. Transgressive, dangerous: true. As a milliner, I’ve had a money bag shaken in my face, coins rattling suggestively, a sailor eager to spend his pay. Milliners and seamstresses both had reputations as women of exploitable, if not overtly easy, virtue. They’re a classic trope in 19th century literature, though I suspect the real reason for the suggestion of looseness was economic independence. But women certainly were selling themselves in the past, so why not portray that reality with carefully selected, trusted role players?

circle_of_francis_wheatley_ra_the_oyster_girl_d5466162h

For one thing, it’s dangerous. You’d have to script it, and interact only with really trustworthy people. It’s not family friendly, though despite the strenuous efforts of some sites, actual history isn’t family friendly either. (I’m looking at you, CW .)

I ponder this role, and women’s lack of power historical, as I ponder Fort Ti and nurses’ reputations, carefully maintained in Army hospitals in later wars. (Not to fear, I will behave, honest.) And I also ponder it as I continue to struggle to understand the Gun Show, the misogyny in the hobby, and the general misogyny of American culture. Like many others, I’ve read this blog post,, and some of the more annoying comments. Yes, I, too, de-escalate now and have in the past. Some of the changes I’ve made in my life revolve back to this concept, and have to do with authenticity and stepping back from de-escalation, subsumation, and self-repression. So why would I not continue that process into my historical work and play?

philip_mercier_the_oyster_girl_d5714611h

As I wonder how to spin a feminist interpretation of women’s marginal roles and drudgery in the past, it occurs to me that forcing the women’s economic disparity and lack of agency to the foreground might provide an answer. Selling myself along with oysters, apples, or cherries might finally make the points I want to not just about women’s lives historically, but about women’s roles today.

(I’ve already made the jokes about hands-on demonstrations, so y’all can keep ‘em yourselves, okay?)

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Good Grief

25 Sunday Oct 2015

Posted by kittycalash in Events, History, Living History, Museums, Reenacting

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

19th century clothing, authenticity, Federal style, first person interpretation, funeral, historic house museums, interpretation, John Brown, John Brown House Museum, living history, memorials, mourning, Providence, Rhode Island Historical Society, Rhode Island history, What Cheer Day, women's work, work

1803 dress and hair

Pre-sweat melted hair

I had my doubts about this event, since we were interpreting the death and mourning of John Brown a full month after it actually happened, and initially resisted somewhat strenuously. But people change, and by the time I was operating a motor vehicle at high speed on I-90 six months later, I could be– and was– convinced. Knowing little, if anything, about early Federal mourning customs mattered not at all. There’s always time to learn, right? Well… if you read fast enough, you can do anything.

Esther and Kitty draping the mirrors

Esther and Kitty draping the mirrors

Despite the bustle, Esther and I found time to cover many of the mirrors with sheets, and the portraits with black crepe; this is a time of reflection, not vanity. It gave our rooms a gloomy mien, and reminded us of our short span on this earth.

Visitors in the front hall of the John Brown House, Providence RI

We had many callers

We did have many callers Saturday afternoon, as John Brown was such a significant figure in Providence. He accumulated significant wealth, as Mr and Mrs Thurber attested when they came to inquire about the profits from the voyage Mr T had invested in– $30,000!

Callers pay respects to Mr Brown

Mr and Mrs Thurber pay their respects to Mr Brown

Thirty thousand is a fine sum indeed, though one wonders where Mrs Thurber might spend those proceeds. While a generally refined person, she made many inquiries about sherry, so I was relieved I’d had the foresight to lock away the decanters. So many people call during a time of grief that you cannot be too careful.

1803 ladies ponder fashion plates

Considering mourning dress options

The mantua maker came to call, bringing black silks and plates for the ladies to choose from. We have had a mix of joy and sorrow in this house, and it is only of late that Mrs Francis (on the left, in blue), has left behind her more matronly garb following the death of her beloved husband John Francis in 1796. It was a crushing blow for her, but she does seem to have recovered now.

1803 woman and baby

Mrs H and her darling daughter, Anna

Mrs Herreshoff was with us, visiting from Point Pleasant in Bristol, and her mother found baby Anna, now just more than five months old, a great consolation indeed. Anna was dressed in mourning for her grand-papa, though she will not remember him. Despite the many callers, baby Anna was truly an angel.

Historical minister and coffin

The Congregational minister called.

The ladies upstairs were a respite for us servants, though we were comforted by the visiting minister from the Congregational church. They cannot make up their minds to a new minister, now that their beloved Dr Hitchcock has left them for heaven. They try on new ones for size nearly every week, and while that is not my congregation, I do think the Reverend Cooke is an excellent choice, combining devotion with humor.

costumed interpreters

The sexton’s son came to inquire if Mrs B wished rent the hearse

A more troublesome caller was Mr Richard Hoppin, son of the sexton at First Baptist church. They do possess the sole hearse in our town, and kindly (for a fee) provide it in times of need. I’m not certain of Mr Hoppin’s stability, for he was inclined to– well, to hop!– in our hallway, a most inappropriate action. The widow did seem to cause him fright (she is a formidable personage, as one would be, after so many years married to Mr Brown), so perhaps he was merely addled by his encounter with her. She wisely inquired after the solidity and soundness of the hearse, for Mr Brown was a substantial figure.

1803 widow and coffin

The widow Mrs Brown reflects upon her late husband

Mr Brown was a great support to us all, and his absence will truly be noted in our household and in our town. I do expect the house will feel empty without his presence, and that Esther, Goody and I will much remark upon the quiet as we go about our tasks.

costumed interpreters on the steps of the John Brown House

The obligatory group photo finale.

From an administrative and managerial stance, this What Cheer Day was different: we cut the interpreted day in half, running the event from 1:00 till 4:00, but still saw about the same number of visitors as we had in a six-hour day. A shorter day meant interpreters were somewhat less exhausted by the close of the day (costumed staff who started their day at 5:00 AM excepted), and the schedule did not have to be as detailed as in previous years. We also reprised a “make your own miniature” activity from the August George Washington 1790 event, and brought in period musicians, who played in the Washington Wallpaper room while people colored miniatures. We also put out an exhibit of memorial art and mourning jewelry, to help contextualize the miniature activity. Since we’ll be leaving the coffin on display and the mirrors and portraits draped through next weekend, a small display (three cases, labels finally finished at 11 AM on the day of the event) seemed like a good idea and opportunity. Upsides: chance to show off the collection, engage people in a hands-on activity, multi-sensory experiences. Downsides: Slightly more to accomplish than hands to do the work, still short a servant, always a little rough the first time you change topics. Unexpected bonus: slightly bumpy transitions in personal life make a suitably sad housekeeper. Score!

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