The Unhinged Librarian

FN-004·Field Note

You Can't Run a Library Like a Business

What changes when a public library adopts business measures, management language, and staffing logic—and what boards can examine before services shrink.

Published 2026.06.06Updated 2026.09.11MethodSend a correction

In this file
  1. The Salt Lake City buyout offer
  2. Usage is not the same as outcome
  3. Why "run it like a business" breaks down
  4. Two ways libraries get smaller
  5. When cuts are forced
  6. When cuts are chosen
  7. Timberland Regional Library
  8. Salt Lake City Public Library
  9. Kitchener Public Library
  10. A wider shift
  11. The counterforce is staff
  12. A different choice is possible
  13. What to watch for
  14. What boards should ask
  15. The point
  16. Sources
  17. AI note

Editorial clarification, September 11, 2026. Read the later buyout reconstruction and staffing reconciliation for the corrected Salt Lake chronology. Unchanged budgeted FTE does not establish unchanged employment. The title survey remains an unpublished working count, not reproducible evidence of a national trend.

Disclosure: I have worked across library and public-information technology, including OverDrive, collectionHQ, Baker & Taylor, Follett, and Trellis Law. I also hold an MLIS and an MBA. That background shapes how I read library budgets, vendor strategy, digital lending, legal information access, and platform ownership. It does not give me inside knowledge about any current company decisions unless I say so directly. This piece is based on public reporting, public budget documents, union statements, board records, and the sources linked at the end. L/30 and MetisLib are also mine. Both are open source, neither takes real patron data, and neither is sold to anyone.

The Salt Lake City buyout offer

In May 2026, the Salt Lake City Public Library sent a buyout offer to more than 250 employees.

The offer went to full-time and part-time workers. On paper, it was generous: up to 20 weeks of base pay, payouts for accrued leave, and up to 12 months of continued health insurance for employees who accepted the offer and left by June 27.

The public reason was careful. The library's director of employee relations wrote to staff that the library "is exploring voluntary measures that may help create flexibility and minimize the potential need for involuntary layoffs or separations in the future," and added that there were "no near-term plans regarding any layoffs."

The one place a leaner staff is named as an outcome is thinner than the rest, and worth marking as such. The Tribune reports that employees attended a private virtual town hall, and that "several confirmed afterward that managers said they hoped the voluntary separation would yield a leaner library staff over time." That is a reporter's paraphrase of what anonymous attendees said managers said. No manager is quoted saying it.

Correction, September 9, 2026. This section previously put quotation marks around "leaner library staff over time" and said managers "described the goal" that way. Neither holds up against the Tribune's text: the phrase is the reporter's own wording, not a quote, and what employees reported was a hope rather than a stated goal. The earlier version also tightened the employee-relations statement, rendering the library's "may help create flexibility and minimize" as a flat "would minimize"; the source wording is now restored. Both are the same error this piece already corrects the minutes for, one section down.

That is where the questions begin.

Salt Lake City Public Library was not describing a sudden budget collapse. Recent budget materials did not show a clear staffing emergency. The FY2026 proposed general fund budget was about $43.2 million, up roughly 18.9 percent from the year before. The system is also mostly funded through property taxes.

The offer also came only a few months after library workers won their first union contract, which received final City Council approval in February 2026.

The library said the buyout was about long-term planning and was not related to the union.

That may be true.

But the timing, the language, and the financial picture deserve a look. A library with more money than the year before asked its own people to consider leaving.

A library with more money than the year before asked its own people to consider leaving.

Update, July 2026. The library's own board minutes from June 22, five days before the deadline, put numbers on it. Nineteen staff had come forward. The library told its board it is not planning layoffs and has not had an involuntary layoff since 2008.

Correction, August 2026. This update originally said nineteen staff "had signed up," following the minutes, which state that "19 staff have already signed up." The library's own recording of that meeting does not support the word. What the CEO says on the video is that nineteen staff "have expressed interest in the program." Interest is not enrollment, and the minutes upgraded it. The number is right; the verb was not. He also rejects the framing this piece and the press coverage both use: "It's not a buyout. It's a voluntary separation incentive."

So this was not an exodus, and it is not a layoff wearing a disguise. Those minutes also record the staff union's Brad Asay as supportive, calling the program a procedural matter rather than something to bargain over. That is the library's account of the union's position and not the union speaking, and a different union rep told the Salt Lake Tribune there was "an element of shock." It still cuts against reading the timing as retaliation, and it belongs here.

Update, August 2026. The board's July 27 minutes contain no further discussion of the buyout program. They do record one structural change: an executive departed, the position will not be refilled, and the minutes describe the result as "shrinking the Executive Team," with the duties split among four remaining executives. One data point on the administrative side of the ledger, the side this piece argues boards should watch.


Usage is not the same as outcome

Businesses and libraries both use numbers. The difference is what the numbers are for.

A business measures usage because usage points toward revenue, growth, retention, market share, or investor value. A library measures usage too: circulation, visits, program attendance, database sessions, new cards. But those numbers are not the mission by themselves.

For a library, usage should help answer a deeper question:

Did this service help people?

A business asks how many people used a thing and what that does to revenue. A library has to ask who was served, who was missed, and what changed because of it.

A busy library is not automatically a successful one, and a quiet service is not automatically a failure. A program with ten people may matter more than a program with one hundred if those ten got help they could not find anywhere else. A database with low usage may still be vital if it supports job seekers, students, small business owners, or people dealing with legal, health, housing, or benefits questions.

Libraries need data. But it has to point toward public value, not just activity.


Why "run it like a business" breaks down

A business can decide that some customers are not profitable. A public library cannot make that same choice without betraying its purpose.

The unhoused patron, the child without Wi-Fi at home, the person who needs an hour of help and checks out nothing, the senior who comes in for company, warmth, safety, or a familiar face: a library exists for people whose needs do not show up as revenue, speed, or volume.

That is why business logic is dangerous when it enters library planning unchallenged. If a library only measures transactions, headcount, cost per visit, and cost per use, the deeper outcomes become harder to see. Once those outcomes go invisible, the people who produce them start to look like overhead. That is how "efficiency" turns into fewer public-service workers, "modernization" becomes a staffing cut, and "doing more with less" becomes less service dressed up as strategy.


Two ways libraries get smaller

There are two main ways libraries get smaller.

The first is public and direct. A funder cuts money, a levy fails, a state changes its funding formula, a city reduces the library allocation. The library may fight back, the board may debate it, and the public can see the numbers and show up to argue. That kind of cut can be brutal, but at least the cause is visible.

The second way is quieter. No levy failed. No state pulled a check. No funder demanded a reduction. The library chooses to reorganize, shrink, merge roles, offer buyouts, or reduce staff in the name of flexibility, modernization, or long-term planning.

That does not mean every reorganization is wrong; libraries do need to change. But when a library is financially stable and still moves toward fewer public-service workers, the public should ask why.


When cuts are forced

Some library cuts are clearly tied to funding decisions.

In March 2025, Executive Order 14238 ordered that the non-statutory components and functions of seven agencies, the Institute of Museum and Library Services among them, "be eliminated to the maximum extent consistent with applicable law," and that their statutory work be cut to "the minimum presence and function required by law." ALA read that as an order to eliminate IMLS "to the maximum extent of the law." IMLS is the only federal agency dedicated to library funding.

The effects showed up quickly.

The Maine State Library issued layoff notices to 13 employees, about 30 percent of its staff, and cited lost IMLS money directly. Some funding was later restored, and some layoffs were avoided or reversed. But the damage was still serious.

At the state level, Ohio changed how its Public Library Fund works. Instead of receiving a fixed percentage of the state general revenue fund, libraries now receive a flat line item. Reports described this as a roughly $25 million statewide cut from fiscal year 2025 to fiscal year 2026.

Local systems then had to respond.

Dayton Metro Library approved a voluntary retirement incentive because of expected state cuts.

Toledo Lucas County Public Library warned that it might need to eliminate positions because of reduced state funding and an existing deficit. Its board later voted to close the Toledo Heights branch and cut hours at others.

In Wisconsin, La Crosse Public Library faced a budget gap after a reduced city allocation and the end of one-time federal pandemic relief money. It chose to eliminate two vacant full-time positions and move the work around rather than lay off people in filled roles.

These examples are painful, but they are clear. There was a funding loss, a public record, and a decision people could name, question, and challenge.


When cuts are chosen

The second pattern is harder to read. These are cases where library leaders choose restructuring, buyouts, layoffs, or role changes even when the outside pressure is less direct.

That does not mean there is no pressure. Costs rise, buildings age, health insurance and materials and technology and labor all get more expensive, and a budget can look healthy in one year and still face risk in the next. But a choice is still a choice. When a library responds by reducing public-service workers while expanding or protecting administrative layers, the public has a right to ask what value system is driving the decision.


Timberland Regional Library

Timberland Regional Library in Washington had a real financial problem.

Public reporting described a multi-year deficit projected at about negative $3.8 million for 2026.

That matters. A real deficit can require real action.

But the staffing choices raised serious questions.

In early 2026, Timberland issued layoff notices to 61 frontline workers, 44 of them involuntary. The union described this as about 38 percent of frontline staff.

During the same period, The Chronicle reported major administrative salary increases and new six-figure administrative roles. The executive director's salary went from $155,000 in 2023 to $189,000 in 2024 and $206,788 in 2025, a change that predates the 2026 layoffs and, like any executive salary, is set by a board rather than by the executive. Two new administrative positions were created, an employee experiences advisor at $120,376 and a special projects coordinator at $105,847. An existing administrative coordinator post was retitled executive administrator and moved from $89,554 in 2023 to $133,760 for 2026.

A deficit can explain belt-tightening. It does not explain why frontline workers faced layoffs while executive and administrative roles grew or became more expensive.

The fallout: the executive director resigned, former trustees called for an audit, and after union pressure, about 80 percent of the involuntary layoffs were rescinded, 36 of the 44. That reversal mattered, but the system had already reduced service in other ways, including cuts to the materials budget and changes to branch hours.

The lesson is not that every administrator is bad or every budget cut is false.

The lesson is simpler:

When a library is under financial pressure, boards should watch where the money moves.

Does the money protect public service, or protect administration? Does it reduce access, or the people who make access possible? Those are governance questions.


Salt Lake City Public Library

Salt Lake City's situation is different.

The library's proposed FY2026 budget was up from the year before. No public source in the record showed a sudden failed levy or direct funding cut forcing immediate staff reductions.

Yet the library offered buyouts to employees, and staff who attended the town hall told the Tribune that managers hoped the program would produce a leaner staff over time.

The library also moved toward a more corporate leadership structure, with top roles using "chief" titles.

Titles alone do not prove anything.

Some public systems use executive titles for legal, pay, or government-structure reasons. A title does not automatically lead to layoffs. A chief officer is not the same thing as a service cut.

But language does matter.

When a public library starts using corporate-style language and then asks staff to leave, the public should ask what values are guiding the change.

Salt Lake City's stated vision included serving marginalized and underserved residents. That is important work, and it is staff-intensive work. Helping someone apply for benefits, print a resume, find early-literacy materials, or work through health, housing, legal, or technology questions takes people. You do not get more of that work from fewer workers. That is the concern.

One caution before reading too much into the titles. Salt Lake City's municipal library has had chronic leadership turnover for years, on roughly a three-to-five-year cycle, while the county library next door ran more than two decades under a single director. Some of that is governance design rather than corporate drift. Mayor-appointed systems tend to churn; board-appointed districts tend not to. The instability at this library is older than its current vocabulary, and an honest read has to hold both.

But there is one thing in the record sharper than any title change. The board was not told the buyout was coming. At its June meeting the CEO explained that he had not notified the board in advance because the program was an operational matter, and that a similar program in 2021 had gone to the board president alone rather than to the full board. He said he had underestimated how the decision would land, and committed to give the board more notice on operational matters carrying public exposure.

That is worth more than a complaint about vocabulary. An offer went to more than 250 employees before the people who govern the institution knew it existed. Whatever you make of the buyout itself, the governance question is plain. What counts as an operational matter, who gets to decide that, and how large does a workforce decision have to be before the board hears about it first?


Kitchener Public Library

This pattern is not only American.

Kitchener Public Library in Ontario restructured in 2024 and 2025, having named a new CEO in 2024. I am not claiming the one caused the other.

Public reporting described department changes and concerns from the workers' union. The library said it was not facing budget cuts.

Again, the issue is not that every reorganization is bad; libraries need to adapt. But when a library says it is not facing cuts and still reorganizes in ways that reduce jobs or reshape public-service work, the public should ask what problem is being solved.

A reorganization should answer plain questions. What is broken, and what evidence shows it? What alternatives were considered? Who gains capacity, and who loses support? What service gets better, and what gets worse? If those answers are not clear, the reorganization deserves more scrutiny.


A wider shift

Three examples do not prove a national trend by themselves. So I looked more broadly.

I reviewed the forty largest public library systems in the United States by population served. I looked at who led each system in 2005, 2015, and now. I focused on two public facts: what the top job was called, and whether the leader came up through libraries.

The title is useful because it is public and easy to compare.

Some large systems have long used corporate-style titles because of their structure. Independent nonprofits and special districts may use "president," "CEO," or similar titles for legal or administrative reasons.

Those cases should be treated carefully.

The more interesting change is in city and county libraries where the top job used to be called "library director," "city librarian," or "county librarian," and later became "CEO," "president," or another corporate-style title.

My working count suggested a change, but the complete library list, selection rule, dates, title definitions, and archived sources are not published here. I am withdrawing the numerical trend as a substantiated finding until that enumeration is available.

The examples motivate a question about executive framing; the unpublished count does not establish how common it is.

That does not prove bad intent.

Changes in authority, cost, and outcomes would be needed to test what those titles mean.

And language often arrives before policy. A library does not usually rename its leadership structure on the same day it announces cuts; the title changes, org chart changes, and strategic language come earlier. By the time a buyout email arrives, the vocabulary may already be in place.

A corporate title is not a layoff. But it can tell you which logic has entered the room.


The counterforce is staff

In these stories, the strongest pushback came from workers and their unions. Salt Lake City workers had recently won their first union contract. Timberland workers pushed back and helped get most of the involuntary layoffs reversed. Kitchener workers raised concerns through CUPE Local 331.

A strategic plan does not protect public service by itself. Neither does a consultant report or a board packet. The people who do the work need a real voice in the decisions that shape the work.

Frontline staff often know the effects of a decision before the dashboard does: when a schedule that looks fine on paper fails in real life, when one less person at the desk means longer waits and more stress, when a "small" role change erases years of expertise. If libraries want to measure outcomes, they need to listen to the workers closest to those outcomes.


A different choice is possible

Not every library responds to pressure by cutting people first.

Spokane Public Library faced financial pressure too: a city in deficit, years of flat funding while costs rose. But public reporting described a different approach. The library held vacant positions open, shifted hours, used reserves, and cut a streaming vendor instead of laying off workers.

That did not solve everything, and its leaders warned that future funding problems could still force layoffs. But faced with pressure, the system treated staff as central to service, not as the first place to cut. A library can face real financial limits and still choose to protect the people who make the library work.


What to watch for

You do not have to wait for a buyout email or layoff notice to ask questions. The signs often appear earlier.

1. Corporate titles without a clear public reason

A public library may have legal or government reasons for certain titles. But if a simple leadership structure turns into a C-suite, the board should explain why. What problem does the new structure solve? Does it add cost, and does it move money away from frontline work?

2. Vague change language

Words like "modernize," "streamline," "right-size," "flexibility," and "transformation" are not automatically bad. But they are not answers. Ask what they mean in plain language: what gets smaller, who changes jobs, what service changes, and what is the evidence?

3. Administration growing while public service shrinks

Watch both headcount and salary. If public-service roles are cut while administrative roles grow, the board should ask why. Money rarely just disappears. It moves.

4. Specialized roles becoming vague generalist roles

A children's specialist, cataloger, outreach worker, or technology trainer holds real expertise. If those roles are merged into broad generalist positions, something may be lost. The question is not only whether the work still gets done. It is whether the quality and depth of service change.

5. Reorganization without a clear outside cause

If no funder cut money, no levy failed, and no crisis is visible, then the reason for a restructuring should be very clear. If the restructuring is the answer, the public should know the problem.

6. Buyouts framed only as opportunity

A buyout may be more humane than a forced layoff. But it is still a signal that the library wants fewer workers, and the board should ask what services will change if experienced staff leave.

7. Data that measures activity but not outcomes

A dashboard can count visits, checkouts, and program attendance. That is useful. But if it cannot show who was helped, what changed, and where service gaps remain, it is not enough. Activity is not the same as impact.


What boards should ask

Library boards do not need to reject business tools.

They need to aim those tools at library values.

Here are questions every board should be asking:

  1. What outcome are we trying to improve? Name it clearly.
  2. How will this decision affect public service? Do not stop at budget impact.
  3. What happens to frontline staffing? Show the change in headcount, salary, hours, and workload.
  4. What happens to administration? Show the same numbers for leadership and management roles.
  5. What service gets better because of this change? Be specific.
  6. What service gets worse? Be honest.
  7. Who was consulted before this decision? Include frontline staff, union representatives, patrons, and community partners.
  8. What alternatives were considered? A board should not be shown only one path.
  9. What will this look like in three years? Short-term savings can create long-term damage.
  10. Are we protecting access, or only reducing cost?

The tenth question is the real one.

These questions are not anti-management. They are governance.


The point

The point is not that every executive is a villain, that every CEO title is dangerous, or that every buyout is cruel. Libraries need budgets, planning, management, long-term strategy, and leaders who can read financial risk before it becomes a crisis.

But libraries are not businesses. A business can ask how few people it needs to move the product. A library has to ask how many people it can help, how deeply it can help them, and who is left out when staff are removed. That is the difference.

The child getting a first library card. The parent finding board books. The worker printing a resume after a layoff. The patron learning how to use a computer. The person asking for help with housing, benefits, health information, or legal resources.

That is not extra. That is the work. Protect the people who make it happen, and you protect the library.

Sources

Federal and IMLS:

Ohio:

La Crosse:

Salt Lake City:

Timberland:

Kitchener:

Leadership title trend, my own count of the forty largest US systems in 2005, 2015 and now:

  • Title changes counted from each system's own leadership page for 2005, 2015 and 2026. The unit of the count is the job title, not the person holding it, so individual directors are not listed here.
  • WFAE, Charlotte Mecklenburg Library CEO resigns

AI note

I am not pretending to be a lone genius in a cabin with a fountain pen.

This piece was drafted and revised with AI support. I have used tools like Grammarly for years, and I see this as an extension of that same editing process, just faster and more flexible.

The responsibility is still mine. The judgment is still mine. The claims are still mine. The sources are still mine.

AI can help shape the work, but it does not get to borrow my integrity.