Category Archives: Things I Come Up With While I’m At Work
So You Want to Work in a Bookstore: Lesson 6 | Here’s to Re-Reading the Wimpy Kid Series for Xmas
If you’re not going to listen to what I tell you, then why did you ask me in the first place? This one’s for all those customers that will ask for a book and then question everything I do to find it for them. I work here. I have worked here for a long time. Please, stop judging me only by my incredibly handsome face, I also know what the hell I’m doing. So shut up, just shut up. If you were so great at finding books, why’d you even ask for my help?
Guy: Yeah, can you help me? My kid wants this book, it’s called Alice
Me: Ok, we might have a copy of Alice in our Biography section, and then I’ll take you back to our Kids’ department.
Guy: Why are you looking here?
Me: Because Alice is a biography.
Guy: Oh. Is it supposed to be here?
I always want to ask them why I would be looking for a book that was not supposed to be here. Why? Why would I see that we had zero in the store and go look for it anyway? How stupid do you people think we are, that we would look for something that does not exist?
Guy: Why are you looking under R, her name’s Alice.
Me: She was a Roosevelt, so it’s supposed to be under R.
Guy: But it’s not there, great.
Me: I don’t know, that’s why I’m looking at the shelf.
I’m muttering to myself while scanning the shelves. She was born a Roosevelt but married a Longworth, maybe its under L? Not there, double-check R, just in case. I know this because I looked at the cover of the book. This isn’t time consuming research I did, I read the cover. Problem is, the book came in back in March. March to December. We’re three days out from Christmas and this book hasn’t been seen since March. This book could be anywhere.
Me: All right, I’m going to check in the back for Alice, but I’ll take you back to the Children’s Department, and you can take a look at the Wimpy Kid
Guy: Yeah, where are those wimpy books, are you going to show me those? Where is that?
Me: Yes. They’re in the… I’m taking you there right now.
We get back there, I point out the newest book and the new blank diary that looks just like the main character’s diary. That’s pretty cool. I assumed he would just need the newest book in the series since Wimpy Kid is like crack to these kids. They swift fury and determination with which they pre-order these books is unparalleled outside of sci-fi/fantasy fandoms.
Guy: We have up until the last three or something, where’s the rest of them?
Me: The rest of them are on the shelf here, they’re numbered on the side, here’s 5 and 7. Let me check for number six.
Guy: Aren’t these numbered, who are you supposed to know the order they go in?
Me: Yeah. There are numbers on the side. That’s… that’s the order they go in. Ok, here’s number six, there’s also a boxed set with five through—
Guy: But you don’t have book three?
Me: Why… you said you had that one. You needed the last three.
Guy: Which ones are those?
Me: Five, six and seven.
Despite having them in my hand and holding them out to him while I say this, the guy turns around and starts scanning the shelf, then pulls off books 5 and 7. I try to point this out to him, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s searching for book 6, which I had to get from another display because it wasn’t on the shelf. Which he should know, because he was standing there the entire time.
Guy: Well that’s too bad though, you don’t have book three.
Me: You don’t need… forget it. I’m going to go find Alice.
That was under C in Biography, mistakenly shelved by the author’s last name, which was Cordery. I’ll see you the day after Christmas when you want to exchange your Wimpy Kid books for the ones I tried to sell you in the first place. You won’t have the receipt either will you?
So You Want to Work in a Bookstore: Lesson 5 | Xmas Fun For the Whole Family
Some customers are content to ask just one bookseller a question and call it a day. Some customers prefer to ask every bookseller they can find the exact same question for a variety of reasons, from the completely innocent to the downright mean-spirited; they’re crazy, they’re 104 and don’t remember the answer, they called the first bookseller stupid to their face because they didn’t like the answer—it could be anything. But then there are the customers who prefer to ask multiple questions of multiple booksellers as though there were not several dozen other people in line also waiting to ask questions.
As I survey the crowd in front of the information desk, which, at three days before Christmas is more zombie hoard than multiple lines, I offer to help whoever is next. This is like throwing the bouquet at a wedding.
Crazy-Eyed Woman: Yes, I have another question.
Me: Well, the other girl was helping you already, she can—
Crazy-Eyed Woman: I’m looking for a book for—
Me: You’re just going to ask anyways though…
Crazy-Eyed Woman: Yes. I was looking for a book for a family of six; ages 6 to 62. Can you suggest something?
I think to myself its kind of like that Christmas song, if it had been on a strict holiday budget—which, I found out later was actually named the Christmas Song—you know, instead of 1 to 92. All this time I thought it was ‘Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire’.
I bet there’s someone out there that gives a shit about that fun fact. There is, actually, I helped him two weeks ago. I looked up the oldest Christmas song still used and found him a book with the history of Christmas carols. We had a lovely conversation. He didn’t buy the book. Why would he? My time isn’t worth anything.
I don’t make my comment about the Christmas song. She wouldn’t get it. She doesn’t deserve my witty banter.
Me: You want something for the whole family? They’re going to read it together?
Crazy-Eyed Woman: Yes.
Me: Like a Christmas picture bo—
Crazy-Eyed Woman: No!
Doesn’t want that. Isn’t going to offer me any clues. I say clues because she clearly knows exactly what she wants. Whatever I recommend is going to be received with a simply ‘no.’ The problem is that she knows exactly what she wants, and that thing does not exist. Only this very specific imaginary book she just decided she needs immediately will do and nothing I recommend will fill the void of her under-medicated soul. I look around. Really, I turn in a circle and try to think of something, as much so she won’t see me roll my eyes as to spot something on one of the nearby table I can throw at her as a distraction while I make a run for it.
Me: And it was six to—
Crazy-Eyed Woman: To sixty-two years young!
That is not a thing. I hate you and everyone who uses that phrase. Except my grandmother, that sounds like something she might say. She’s allowed to, my grandmother’s adorable—but the rest of you need to stop.
Me: Yeah, I have no idea, that’s really a ridiculous question. Here comes the girl with your other book. She might know. Can I please help who was actually next?
So You Want to Work in a Bookstore: Lesson 4 | the Captain (again)
This is the Captain: the Prequel. Christmas 2012. My first experience with the legend himself. If I asked a few of the booksellers I’ve worked with over the years, I’d probably have more stories about this guy than anyone else. He likes looking at the nudies over in our Newsstand. He likes describing them loudly but in his defense, the Captain would do this whether or not anyone was around. That’s makes it sound like he’s not a bad guy, right? Maybe he’s just, you know, not rowing with both oars in the water?
Well, at this point, he’s been told enough times. He’s been told not to describe these pictures at the top of his lungs. He’s been told not to show said pictures to other customers. Whether or not he understands this behavior is wrong doesn’t matter. It’s been made clear that he should not do it. Or at least we thought it was.
I get called over to our coffee shop because there’s someone acting… well, a little weird. He’s been talking to himself for a while, rearranging items on the counter, he went up to someone in line and sniffed them, he’s ripping open sugar packets on the condiment bar and making little Sweet ‘n Low mountains. I watch him for a bit. He sees me watching him. He abandons his Splenda ski-run and makes a b-line for our display of chai tea cartons lined up in front of the espresso machine. I make my move.
Me: Is there anything I can help you with?
the Captain: Oh, what do you want? You’re here to throw me out?
Me: Yes sir, you need to leave…
the Captain: And who are you? You the boss? You’re the captain?
Me: No sir, I’m not a Captain, but I am the—
He touches the brim of his captain’s hat and winks at me, the son of a bitch.
the Captain: You know what you need? You should have some of those marshmallows, those little marshmallows. Do you have any of those back there?
Me: I’m afraid I don’t have any marshmallows..
I’ve been herding him towards the front doors during our exchange. Each time I step in front of his path he adjusts to avoid me, which is remarkable as he refuses to look at me. It’s not far now, perhaps thirty feet or so to the front doors.
the Captain: Let me ask you a question— I’m going! Before, let me ask you, do I have time to pick up a woman? On my way out?
Me: No, you do not have time to pick up a woman.
the Captain: Not even one of these?
He points at a female customer we’re passing and asks her if she’s a librarian. He walks away before she can answer as there are four other women nearby he must ask as well, and I apologize quickly before following after and attempting to steer him left to the doors.
Me: No! No one here is a librarian! I’m sorry about him, I’m so sorry. No, she is not a librarian either!
the Captain: And what about you? Christmas shopping! Huh?
Me: The extent of my Christmas shopping is none of your concern..
the Captain: Hey, let me ask you a question—
Me: Ok, I’m just going to call the cops now..
Gas Station Burrito 