Beyond the Transaction: What Libraries—Big or Small—Deserve from Vendor Relationships

In academic librarianship, we talk a lot about technology, access, and outcomes—but not enough about the health of the relationships that make those things possible. When a vendor relationship begins to falter, it often doesn’t happen all at once. The silence creeps in. A response takes a little longer. Updates stop coming. Negotiations stall. Eventually, what once felt like a partnership begins to feel transactional—something to chase rather than build.

What’s harder to talk about is the emotional undercurrent: the sense of being deprioritized, especially for smaller institutions. It can feel like your library’s size, budget, or reach is used to determine how much care you receive. And over time, the absence of consistent communication, transparency, or mutual respect erodes not just the relationship—but trust itself.

Many libraries find themselves navigating this space quietly. A missed follow-up here, a delayed renewal there. Maybe there’s one effort to reconnect, but no real follow-through. It’s rarely one event that breaks the partnership; it’s the pattern of disengagement.

And when that happens, it matters. Because relationships in librarianship should matter. Whether you’re a large research university or a small college with a lean staff and tight resources, your needs—and your community’s needs—deserve attention, clarity, and follow-through.

This isn’t about assigning blame. Vendors juggle large portfolios, shifting priorities, and industry pressures. But that’s why responsiveness and care are more important than ever. When a library has to wait months for a contract, or doesn’t receive updates on major platform changes, it sends an unmistakable message—intentional or not: you’re not a priority.

Small libraries especially know the power of meaningful vendor relationships. We depend on collaboration, not just service. When vendors show up, listen, and adapt with us, it can lead to innovation, better access, and lasting trust. When they disappear, we notice.

This is a call for better partnership—not perfection. Every library, regardless of size, deserves to feel seen. We deserve open communication, clear timelines, and a seat at the table when decisions impact our users. Our work may look different from campus to campus, but our expectations around integrity, accountability, and mutual respect should remain the same.

In the end, trust is not built in onboarding. It’s built in the quiet, consistent ways partners show up for each other—even when no one is watching. Let’s aim for relationships that go beyond transactions. Let’s build partnerships that reflect the values we bring to our users every day.

Can Trust Be Rebuilt in Library-Vendor Relationships?

The short answer is yes. But rebuilding trust in a professional partnership—especially one that’s faltered—is never automatic. It starts with acknowledging the break, not pretending it didn’t happen. It requires one party to make the first move, and the other to meet that gesture with sincerity.

For vendors, that might mean reaching out not to sell, but to listen. To ask, “What do you need from us now?” instead of, “Can we talk about your renewal?”
For libraries, it might mean being honest about what felt like a breach. To say, “Here’s where we struggled, and here’s what would help us move forward.”

Rebuilding trust also demands consistency. One meeting or email won’t restore what’s been lost. Instead, small, steady signals of care—timely responses, shared planning, clear follow-up—begin to reshape the story. Trust doesn’t return all at once. It returns in fragments, then patterns, then confidence.

And here’s the deeper truth: when trust is rebuilt, it’s often stronger than it was before. Because both parties have seen what happens when the relationship is tested—and chose to repair it anyway.

In the library world, where we often work within constraints and against urgency, choosing to rebuild is an act of leadership. It says we value relationships over transactions, and people over platforms.

So yes—trust can be rebuilt. But only if we choose to do the hard, human work of rebuilding it together.