Chief Listening Officer
Roger Bookman was enjoying a long weekend at her cabin by the lake. He had three whole days to think about and write her annual
speech to the 400 people who worked in the city's library branches. He wanted to convey the idea that new times require new ways of doing things.
He wanted to start out with an anecdote that would grab people's attention.
So, he took a deep breath and wrote the most difficult part of this speech - the story of the child who died unnecessarily. This child
parents had come to the library with a question that the library could have potentially answered if they had done more listening. But listening --
gathering relevant and useful information -- was nobody's specific job. Different people in the library system did listening, but nobody
was coordinating that listening. If someone came to a library branch with a question, it's quite possible that no answer could be given --
but the answer could have been readily accessed by asking someone else at a different library branch.
Roger Bookman then went on to explain, "This sad anecdote brings me to the announcement that our library is creating a new
position, the Chief Listening Officer. The only duty of this librarian is to listen as attentively as possible for any information that
could benefit residents in the city. The listening would be done by surfing web sites in the city, going out to talk to individuals and organizations,
setting up and monitor web forms, and any other ways that useful information could be gather."
Instead of requiring the Chief Listening Office to prepare monthly reports, this person would circulate around to all the branch
libraries to converse with staff and share what he or she knew - while engaging staff in conversations about community needs. The goal
was to match up collected information with community needs.
Roger Bookman went on to say, "We cannot prevent all sad stories from happening, but we can do much better at listening.
Listening is learning. The more you listen, the more you learn. Yes, our library has accumulated a lot of knowledge in books. But
some of the most important knowledge exists outside of books. We need to track down that information and have it at hand for
when it's needed."
The response from the collected library staff was generally encouraging. A few questions came up. One staff member from the back raised their hand. "Roger, this sounds interesting, but what will this new Chief Listening Officer actually do*on a daily basis? Is it just eavesdropping on people's conversations?"
Roger smiled, anticipating this question. "Not quite. Imagine it like this: the CLO will be our eyes and ears in the community, a living, breathing search engine—but much more empathetic. We get all kinds of questions in the library every day. Some are simple, like 'How do I renew my passport?' or 'Where can I find local food assistance?' Others are deeper and harder to answer, like the parents in our story asking, 'Who can help my child?'
The problem is, right now, we're siloed. Each branch has its own knowledge, but that knowledge isn't shared effectively across the entire system. The CLO's role is to break down these silos, actively gather information that people need, and then make sure it gets shared with the right people at the right time. It's like knitting a giant community quilt of resources, one thread at a time."
A murmur of agreement ran through the room, but there were still skeptical faces.
A staff member from the East Branch stood up. "Roger, I love the concept of listening more. But how do we avoid turning this into just another bureaucratic layer? We all know how quickly a good idea can turn into endless meetings and memos."
Roger nodded. "I hear you, and you're absolutely right. The last thing we want is another cog in the wheel. The CLO won't be sitting behind a desk, buried in paperwork. They'll be out there—visiting different branches, meeting with staff, attending community events, making themselves visible. They won't be generating reports; they'll be generating *conversations*. The role is dynamic, and the impact will be felt in the stories that unfold when we get the right answers to the right people."
At this, Roger paused, and then added with a wry smile, "In fact, their performance will be measured not by how many meetings they attend, but by how many meetings they help us avoid. The goal is proactive communication, not reactive problem-solving."
The room buzzed with a new kind of energy now. A few people started nodding and whispering to each other.
Roger took a sip of water and continued. "I want to make one thing clear: Listening is not just the job of the Chief Listening Officer. It's a skill we can all get better at. I'm asking each of you to start practicing this kind of listening today. When you listen to a patron's question, listen for the question behind the question. When someone says, 'I need a book on grief,' they might actually be saying, 'I need to know I'm not alone in my grief.' That's the kind of listening I'm talking about."
A young librarian, who had only been with the system for a year, raised her hand. "But what if we get it wrong? What if we misunderstand what people need?"
Roger's eyes softened. "We will get it wrong, sometimes. That's inevitable. But the beautiful thing about listening is that it's a cycle. We can always come back and listen again. We can ask better questions. The point is to try. To care enough to say, 'I might not have the answer, but I'll help you find it.' That's the kind of culture I want to build here."
A round of spontaneous applause broke out, tentative at first, then growing louder. It was the sound of 400 people realizing they weren't just working in a library—they were working in a living, evolving network of human connections.
Roger Bookman took a deep breath. He had started with a difficult story, but the room was ending with a feeling of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they were onto something here.
He stepped back from the podium and gave a small, humble bow. "Thank you all for listening. Now let's get to work."
Roger smiled, anticipating this question. "Not quite. Imagine it like this: the CLO will be our eyes and ears in the community, a living, breathing search engine—but much more empathetic. We get all kinds of questions in the library every day. Some are simple, like 'How do I renew my passport?' or 'Where can I find local food assistance?' Others are deeper and harder to answer, like the parents in our story asking, 'Who can help my child?'
The problem is, right now, we're siloed. Each branch has its own knowledge, but that knowledge isn't shared effectively across the entire system. The CLO's role is to break down these silos, actively gather information that people need, and then make sure it gets shared with the right people at the right time. It's like knitting a giant community quilt of resources, one thread at a time."
A murmur of agreement ran through the room, but there were still skeptical faces.
A staff member from the East Branch stood up. "Roger, I love the concept of listening more. But how do we avoid turning this into just another bureaucratic layer? We all know how quickly a good idea can turn into endless meetings and memos."
Roger nodded. "I hear you, and you're absolutely right. The last thing we want is another cog in the wheel. The CLO won't be sitting behind a desk, buried in paperwork. They'll be out there—visiting different branches, meeting with staff, attending community events, making themselves visible. They won't be generating reports; they'll be generating *conversations*. The role is dynamic, and the impact will be felt in the stories that unfold when we get the right answers to the right people."
At this, Roger paused, and then added with a wry smile, "In fact, their performance will be measured not by how many meetings they attend, but by how many meetings they help us avoid. The goal is proactive communication, not reactive problem-solving."
The room buzzed with a new kind of energy now. A few people started nodding and whispering to each other.
Roger took a sip of water and continued. "I want to make one thing clear: Listening is not just the job of the Chief Listening Officer. It's a skill we can all get better at. I'm asking each of you to start practicing this kind of listening today. When you listen to a patron's question, listen for the question behind the question. When someone says, 'I need a book on grief,' they might actually be saying, 'I need to know I'm not alone in my grief.' That's the kind of listening I'm talking about."
A young librarian, who had only been with the system for a year, raised her hand. "But what if we get it wrong? What if we misunderstand what people need?"
Roger's eyes softened. "We will get it wrong, sometimes. That's inevitable. But the beautiful thing about listening is that it's a cycle. We can always come back and listen again. We can ask better questions. The point is to try. To care enough to say, 'I might not have the answer, but I'll help you find it.' That's the kind of culture I want to build here."
A round of spontaneous applause broke out, tentative at first, then growing louder. It was the sound of 400 people realizing they weren't just working in a library—they were working in a living, evolving network of human connections.
Roger Bookman took a deep breath. He had started with a difficult story, but the room was ending with a feeling of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they were onto something here.
He stepped back from the podium and gave a small, humble bow. "Thank you all for listening. Now let's get to work."
(This story is donated to the public domain.)
--
He/Him/His
"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
"We must reinvent a future free of blinders so that we can choose from real options." David Suzuki
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