#120 Classification theory

"Sorting things out; classification and its consequences” by Geoffrey C. Bowker and Susan Leigh Star (read a few chapters here) begins:

“To classify is human. Not all classifications take formal shape or are standardized in commercial and bureaucratic products. We all spend large parts of our days doing classification work, often tacitly, and make up and use a range of ad hoc classifications in order to do so. We sort dirty dishes from clean, white laundry from colorfast, important email to be answered from e-junk. We match the size and type of our car tires to the amount of pressure they should accept.

Our desktops are a mute testimony to a kind of muddled folk classification: papers which must read by yesterday, but which have been there since last year; old professional journals which really should be read and even in fact may someday be, and which have been there since last year; assorted grant applications, tax forms, various work-related surveys and forms waiting to be filled out for everything from parking spaces to immunizations. These surfaces may be piled with sentimental cards which are already read but which can’t yet be thrown out alongside reminder notes to send similar cards to parents, sweethearts, or to friends for their birthdays, all piled on top of last year’s calendar (which who knows, may be useful at tax time).

Any part of the home, school or workplace reveals some such system of classification: medications classed as not for children occupy a higher shelf than safer ones; books for reference are shelved close to where we do the Sunday crossword puzzle; door keys are color-coded and stored according to frequency of use.”

This is certainly a relief--I thought it was just me, a former cataloger, who sorts, classifies and arranges by size, price, theory, type, temperature, eye color, whim of the day, size of the electrical cord, frequency of use, but with a desk that looks like last year‘s tornado passed through. Now I know we all do it even without training at the University of Illinois School of Library and Information Science. I did make some paragraph breaks in the above quote--because this is pixels on a screen and not a printed book page lovingly held in your hands.

I have a system at the supermarket. Shop the walls first--that’s the fresh produce, dairy and the bakery. If you buy most of your food from the walls you automatically avoid a lot of processed food which increases your food bill as it saves time and adds calories. Getting my choices out of the cart is another problem, because I reclassify on the moving conveyor belt and have to move quickly as I add the balance in my head.

First all the taxables--often that can be a fourth of the total amount--soap, paper products, cat food, soft drinks, and what is known in the industry as “health and beauty.” Dairy stands together, liquid separated from solid, but sometimes by shape and weight. Fresh meats are together, and frozen items are strategically huddled together. Sale items, the two-fer and three-fer usually are attractively grouped so I can make sure the clerk catches the reduced price. Tagged sale items are put where I can keep an eye on them has the price appears on the screen.

These days my system doesn’t work all that well, but I still cling to it to bring a sense of orderliness to my day. First of all, fresh produce is now sort of in the “narthex” of the store--apples, pears and bananas greeting me as I take a cart. On the way out, the computers that figure my bill have another agenda--they scramble my carefully devised system--they can’t even subtotal what I purchased for charity so I have to take the clerk’s word for it that I purchased $19.95 for Cat Welfare and remember to note it on my bill.