One of the last times I posted, I mentioned that I couldn't or shouldn't talk about work.
Well, fuck it.
Because that's where all my best stories are from in the last couple of weeks.
I can always go back and delete this, right?
Right.
Anyway, let's start with something fun and positive.
A couple of weeks ago, we had a huge event to commemorate Dr. Seuss' birthday at the store.
We had face painting, games, cupcake decorating, storytelling all day long.
Hundreds and hundreds of kids everywhere.
Knowing me, do you think I was happy or pissed off about this?
I bet you guessed wrong, bitches!!
I got to paint my face and wear an awesome hat all day long.
Who wouldn't be jazzed about that??
And it was really fun seeing all the kids so excited. One of our employees dressed in a Cat in the Hat costume and went around all day entertaining the masses.
She was a real sport about it too, because those costumes are fucking sweltering. At one point she was taking a break in the back room and I thought she was literally going to pass out from heat exhaustion. Sometimes I'm really glad that I'm too fat to get into those things.
The day was really fun, but by the end of my shift, customers were starting to get pissy.
The regulars were pissy because they couldn't get to anything and it was really loud and crowded in there. And the people that came just for the even got pissy because their kids were getting pissy.
So I was happy to leave by 3pm, and leave everyone to be pissy.
I stopped to pick up sandwiches from Subway on the way home, and there was no way I was taking off that hat after wearing it all day. My hair was a tangled, sweaty beehive-looking nest under that thing.
A hot dude in line was actually hitting on me while I had cat makeup and that hat on. It was the crowning achievement of my life, really.
The rest of the last couple of weeks...meh, not as fun.
I've been sick as shit in the last week. Felt like there's been a family of angry squirrels living in my lungs. I'm finally doing a little bit better. I'm never sick, so when I am it really hits me.
And speaking of shit...
Someone actually took one in the hallway to the bathrooms/break room at work the other day.
Pooped.
Right.
In.
The.
Hallway.
I'm sure it was a little kid. Well, I'm actually hoping it was a little kid, 'cause yikes.
Usually I'm the one that gets screwed over and has to deal with things like that, but thank the sweet Baby Jesus in the manger that I wasn't there that morning. My friend Sean had to clean it up.
If the kid was young enough to have pooped in the hallway, don't you think a parent would have been nearby? And seen this? And you know, perhaps cleaned it up??
Yeah. People are fucking awesome.
And speaking of awesome people...
There have been a lot of angry-ass bible customers this last week.
Thrice (yep, I said thrice) I've had people angry over the price of bibles.
People always say, 'It's in the bible.'
They're full of shit, because there are zillions upon kajillions of bibles. Different translations, different styles, different uses.
Gift bibles, travel bibles, study bibles, parallel bibles...(I'm starting to sound like Bubba from 'Forrest Gump' here)
Some are really expensive, some are really cheap.
People never want the $10 bible. They want the $85 bible. But they want us to sell it to them for $10.
One woman in particular got all up in my face.
Customer: Excuse me. I need a King James Version bible for my kid.
Me: Well, we only have one in the store. There aren't many KJV bibles made for children in general. It's a hard translation for them to understand.
Customer: She needs it for school. How much is it?
Me; $30
*customer's eyes bug out of her head*
Customer: For a bible?? That's ridiculous. I'm not paying $30.
Me: Well, that's the price. We don't set the prices, the publishers do.
Customer: She needs it for school.
Me: Well, this is the only one we have. And it's $30.
Customer: That's crazy! Considering GOD was the publisher in the first place!
Yep.
She actually said that.
I had no idea that God was in the printing business. Is it in the bible? Maybe you can take up high bible prices with Him, Lady.
Oh, and let him know how awesome you were treating me, He'll love that.
Three different ones like that. Yesterday was the latest one...you know. On Sunday. When this person had ovbiously just come straight from church to the store.
I wonder what it is about the drive over that makes them forget everything they just learned at church?
I don't attend church, I never have. Yet I always treat others well, as I'd like to be treated.
Funny how that is, eh?
Anyway, the weather is starting to get really gorgeous here. That's definitely a plus.
Hopefully it'll start cheering people up. It's definitely cheering ME up.
Oh, and I got a faaaaaaaabulous new pair of Converse,
And by crunch time, I don't mean that Christmas is in 10 days and it's time to optimize my bookselling prowess.
I mean 'crunch' as in the sound of my fist connecting with someone's maxillofacial area.
ONE more person asks me why we don't have a book in the store, right now, on a subject like...?
~Kilt-making
~Mule training
~Celtic knot puzzle solving
~Blacksmithing
~Manny Pacquiao
...etc, etc, etc.
ONE more person tells me I ruined their Christmas for x reason?
ONE more person says, "Yes, I know you have 5, 576 bibles in the store, but I don't want any of those, it has to be this one."
It's bang, zoom, to the moon Alice!
POW, right in the kisser!
Yesterday a dude came and and asked, "Where are your Elf on the Shelfs?"
I stifled the urge to say, "You mean Elves on the Shelf?" and smiled and told him instead, "I'm sorry sir, we're out. But I can see if there are any available to order."
"Oat?" he said.
"Yes, we're out," I replied, highly aware of the fact he was making fun of my accent. Because I'm not an idiot.
"Oat?" he asked again.
"Yes. And I'm Canadian, I can't help the way I say 'out'. Do you want me to order that Elf for you?"
I was so pissed off. I've never wanted to jersey someone so badly.
There are some good customer stories. One woman came in last week, frantically looking for a 'How to Draw Dinosaurs' book for kids.
"It's all little Timmy wants for Christmas! I hope you have one!" she exclaimed.
I took her into the children's department and handed her a book on drawing dinosaurs. "Oh! OH! You saved my life!" she cried. "I love you! You've made my day! Little Timmy will love this! I would have been SO dead if I hadn't found this! Thank you!!!!"
That made me laugh. "Well," I said, "it's not very often that a bookseller gets to say she saves lives for a living."
But that's how it goes.
People will tell me that I'm the most amazing customer service rep they've met in a long time. People will tell me that I'm stupid and ruined Christmas AND their wife's birthday.
All on one week (last week, in fact). Sometimes in one day.
This year I'm not feeling too Christmassy. Even with the job I have, I usually like it anyway. I enjoy giving gifts and sending cards and decorating and all that.
But I'm so tired of it all. The only thing I enjoy this Christmas is reading by the lights of the tree. I come home, pour a glass of wine, and settle down next to the lit tree with a good book.
Right now I'm in the middle of reading 'The Complete Sherlock Holmes'. All part of the current obsession.
I posted some of the things on my bucket list a little while back, and I mentioned that I wanted to read some immense classic just to say I did.
Well, I'm glad I picked this one (even though they count as several stories and not just one massive one, but who gives a shit about the details) and I'm kicking myself that I haven't read all of them sooner.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (from now on I'm referring to him as The Notorious A.C.D.) was a fucking literary genius. Master of the first line hook. Master of quick, witty dialogue. You can't help but get pulled in, it's ridiculous.
Anyway, I read. I've also been inspired to write again (and not just in the ol' blog, I actually fancy myself a 'real' writer at times). I work. I rest.
No time for Christmas, my plate is full.
Besides, it never feels like it's Christmas here in NC. The temps are still awesome enough to go for picnics and sit on the back porch playing cards. People are still wearing flip flops and shorts (silly people, but they're doing it nonetheless).
As you may have been disappointed to note this week, there was no installment of Dirty French Friday.
What even could have taken place to have kept me from delighting the masses with my dodgy French?
Oh yeah. That.
The Christmas shopping season has had its official kick-off.
If you've been following my blog for any decent length of time, you'll know what I was not absent from writing this past week because I was a participant in the shopping delights of Black Friday.
I was on the stressed-out, frantic, retail-worker end of things.
The upcoming month is more like I'm an extra in Groundhog Day, where I wake up and every day is Black Friday. I'm even sick this week, just like last year. I don't even know why I'm writing a new post about it. I might as well have just reposted this entry from 2010.
At my place of employment, every single one of us is required to work Black Friday. And you know what? Aside from being extremely busy and wishing I could clone myself between 12 and 3 pm that day, it wasn't too bad.
Oh, it was busy as shit, but customers seemed a little happier this year. Maybe because they had a bit more money to spend? I was just reading an article on the increase in Black Friday spending over last year. My store certainly saw the increase, we were pretty tickled.
The worst encounter I had this past week (and not even on BF) was when a woman yelled 'This is some bullshit!' in my face and then stalked away because we didn't have the hot new toy for the season in stock.
The LeapPad Tablet.
That kid is smiling because his mom didn't have to swear at a poor, harried bookstore employee to get this toy for her son.
Apparently these things are almost impossible to get right now. A kid has to have a tablet just like his mom and dad's!
Whatever happened to getting dolls and bicycles for Christmas? I'm so old.
Remember when Cabbage Patch Dolls were the big toy for Christmas? This had to be 1984/85-ish. I bet my mum had to arm wrestle another mum for these ones. And here I am in my favourite outfit of choice: An Edmonton Oilers jersey, underwear and odd socks. I look like I just ate a lemon.
Christmas concert at St. Theresa School, circa 1987. I was the angel with short dark hair in the top left of the frame. The last time I could don a halo with any sort of authenticity.
Yep. I'm old. The only thing that gives me comfort, is that Chuckles was in his mid 20's at that time. Which makes him really old and kind of a pervy cradle-robber.
Other than the swearing in my face over the LeapfuckingPad, people have been pretty nice. They don't get really pissy until the last weekend before Christmas.
The weekend where they realize that they've left all their shopping till the last minute, and they realize that we're not able to order anything for them in time for Christmas, and "What do you mean you don't have a book on mule training on the shelf?? What kind of second-rate establishment is this??" happens.
They'll start grabbing anything off the shelves at that point.
"Hmm...what to get Grandma? Oh, look! There's one copy of 'Tickle His Pickle' left! That way I don't have to get Grandpa a gift ! Two birds with one stone and all that..."
Now that you're all picturing your grandparents playing hide the trouser snake, I must go. I don't have another day off for a few days, and I have a lot of relaxing to get accomplished before it's time to go to sleep and wake up for another day of retail fun.
As far as my personal Christmas shopping goes, I think this is the plan for the season. I'm sure my husband will go along with it.
Most of my job involves answering people's questions. Some of the questions are good, some are funny, some are stupid, and some are exhausting.
Here are a few of the most common ones:
"Where are the bathrooms?"
Ok. I can't really fault people for asking where the bathrooms are. I've had to do it in restaurants...I don't like wandering aimlessly past people sitting down to dinner. They all know you're up for a pee. And for some reason that makes me uncomfortable.
But I swear sometimes I just get tired of answering. I'd love to just say "Under the sign that says 'Restrooms.'"
"I don't know. Where am I?" [in response to us asking if they have a store membership card]
This one I DO have a problem with. How do you not know where you are??? Did you walk into the store with your eyes closed? Shouldn't the fact that you're surrounded by books be a massive clue?
The perfect gift for these people? Watch the video.
You'd be surprised at just how many people ask this question. Especially when they whip out their checkbooks. You can see them covertly trying to glimpse the name of the store on something. And if they do know where they are, they're looking around to see how to spell it. And they still spell it wrong anyway.
"Do you work here?"
This question is usually asked when I'm wearing my nametag (that has the store name printed boldly on it), carrying a huge pile of books, or using a scanner to organize a section with books scattered all around me. Sweaty, dusty, hair in my eyes, kneeling on the floor...
I'm so tempted to say 'Nope' and continue scanning. Just to see what they'd do.
"Can I check out here?" [strolling up to Customer Service]
Once again, I can't really fault people for not knowing we can't check them out there. It's not like we have any signs saying "No Registers". I usually tell people jokingly, "If there's no line, it's too good to be true."
I do feel a bit like a flight attendant though. My reply is always, "There are no registers here, but you can check out at either end of the store," whilst simultaneously pointing to either end of the store. Trust me, if you don't do the hand gestures, they just look at you with a blank stare. I almost poked my co-worker K in the eye doing this the other day.
"Kyna, where's K?" "Um...she had to run over to the drugstore to buy an eyepatch. Sorry."
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
I DO fault people for getting an attitude with us because we don't have registers at Customer Service. 75% the people are very nice about it and go on their merry way. The other %25 will literally ask, "Why not?" with an angry glare.
This last week of shopping before Christmas has been the worst in terms of attitudes. I'm a veteran retail worker, so I expect it. But when it comes, you're still shocked at how horrible people can be to each other.
Saturday, I wrote a blog about it being the biggest shopping day of the year. And it WAS. Can't reveal how much money we made obviously, but I will say that it was a record for the store. We've been open for just about 3 years, and in all that time we've never made more money in a single day. It was INSANE.
Along with the sales, came the shenanigans.
There were TWO big, nasty messes to clean up in the men's bathroom that day.
If you're eating breakfast, you may want to put down that bagel for a second or continue reading this post later on.
Someone either had the stomach flu really bad, or was hungover like a mofo. I'm betting on the second one.
It looked like the possessed girl from 'The Exorcist' paid us a visit.
Like someone had puked whilst pirouetting. It was a fountain of vomit. Walls, floor, toilet...it even was oozing into other stalls.
The clean-up job required two of our male employees to roll up their sleeves. They managed to clean up the mess, but the smell lingered. The morning cleaning ladies had to bleach everything the next day. I can't believe no one quit over that.
Later on that same day, I was helping customers when the boyfriend of one of my co-workers came up to me and said "Um, just letting you know there's blood in the bathroom."
Seriously. As soon as I was done with the customers, I had to go hunt down male employees again to go check it out. One of them refused to go because it involved blood.
One of our newbies volunteered to check it out (big kudos to him) and clean it up. He came out afterwards and said that it looked as though someone had cut their hand really badly, and flicked it all over the wall and urinals.
Ok, gross stuff over. You can pick up your bagel again. If you have any appetite left.
I served a few 'interesting' customers.
One old guy came up and I helped him out with his question with no problems. Sometimes I dread helping old people (I know, I'm a doucheface) because they don't know what they're looking for half the time and it takes forever. (I'm a DOUCHEFACE, I know, I know!)
As he was about to walk away, he turned and said, "Oh, I have one more question..."
Of course he did. "Yes?"
"Have you sold a lot of the new George Bush book?"
"Yes, we've sold a ton of them. It's very popular."
"You still have some?" he asked. "A lot of places have sold out."
"Yep, we still have some. We sold out a couple of times ourselves, but we have them now."
He looked as though he expected me to start gushing over it. "Have you read it?"
Sigh."No, I haven't."
"Why? You're probably just not into good leadership."
I usually keep my political opinions to myself. Politics, religion, war...I never discuss these subjects with customers. You're not going to change anyone's opinions, and it'll probably escalate into a brawl.
I had to supress the urge to reply "Good leadership?? Are we still talking about George W. Bush here?"
Instead I replied, "Well, I do appreciate good leadership. But I'm Canadian, and I spent most of W's presidency in Canada." I was trying to divert the conversation. Usually when I bring up Canada, people ask, "How did you end up here?", and so on, until we're talking about hockey or maple syrup or something.
Old Man Bush wouldn't be diverted. "Well, if you want to read about a REAL leader, you'd read this book. EXCELLENT writing. Great man. You should read it."
My co-worker C kept walking past and she had the funniest smirk on her face because she was listening.
"Like I said, I'm Canadian..."
C remarked to me later on that she'd never heard me pull the Canadian card so many times in one conversation. I just couldn't handle the Bush-love any longer than I had to endure it.
At least the guy wasn't a jerk or anything. I got one of those the next day.
At my store, we have a feature where you can go on the website, see if your local store has a copy of it, and put in an online reservation for it. We then put your name on the book, and put it on hold.
The other night I got a couple of online reservations from the same person for some kid's books. I went to search them down pretty much immediately after they popped up on the screen.
I go into the children's department and I pick out one of the books...and I start to sense someone quietly following me. Ninja-like. He didn't make a move to talk to me...he kind of just inched closer to where I was. I could see all this out of the corner of my eye.
I find the other book, and finally I turn around and there's this short, bald, beady-eyed man standing RIGHT behind me.
"Yes?" I said. "Can I help you?
He points to the books I have in my hand. "I think those are mine."
He must have made the online reservation from his phone whilst IN the store, because I had gone to fill the order immediately. "Oh, ok here you go!..." I said, and started to hand him the books.
"SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" he says, and points angrily towards his two children, who are standing a few feet away from him. He was looking at me like I had just pissed all over Christmas.
I was PEEVED. I'm a mind reader, so I should have known those were his kids, right?
It's not my fault that he brought his kids with him to 'secretly' buy THEIR presents.
I silently held out his books and he looks even more irritated at my moronic actions. 'Well, take them up to the front!' he hisses.
Well, that's what I was about to fucking DO, idiot. Before YOU stopped me.
I just silently turned on my heel and walked away. Absolutely steaming mad. Yeah, buddy. I ruined Christmas for your kids. That's my job. You're welcome.
And then there were the ungrateful people.
My co-worker S, who I mentioned in my last blog post as a weirdo-magnet, found a credit card in the Sci-Fi section yesterday.
She brought it up to me, and I was going to go lock it in the drawer up front. My co-worker M suggested that we make an announcement in case the person who lost it was still in the store. I admit that I was a dumbass for not thinking of that, and I said it was a good idea.
M paged the person (let's call him John Smith. Ok, that's boring... let's call him Horatio Buttsmacker) over the loudspeaker, and 30 seconds later a man shows up to the desk with a teenager in tow.
"Can we help you?" I ask.
"I'm Horatio Buttsmacker." he replies.
M smiles at him, "We called you up because we found your credit card. Here you go!" She holds it out.
He isn't smiling, and makes no move to take the card. "That's impossible. That's not my card. I have my card.""
"But you said you're Horatio Buttsmacker. Look, here's your name on this card," M holds it up.
He pulls out his wallet. "But I have my card. Look, here it is." He does indeed pull out a card that looks identical. He still makes no move to take the card we found with his name on it.
"Oh, well do you have someone with you that would have a copy of your card?" Because this is obviously his effing card. His name wasn't a common name.
"No."
"Well sir...this has your name on it..." We were repeating ourselves, but what else does one say? He finally takes the card.
He turns to the teen and says, "Where's your grandma?" and strides away from the desk. I guess Grandma can't keep track of her cards very well.
No "Thank you for finding my card!" Nothing!
I should have just said, "You're right, it's my card. Silly me. My name's Horatio Buttsmacker too! What a coincidence! Sorry about the mix up. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go buy that diamond necklace I've had my eye on..."
And now it's time for the Wiener of the Week!
This week's winner is....Mullet Guy!!
Yesterday I was walking through the Sci-Fi section and spotted the most epic mullet I've ever seen in my life.
The Mullet to crush all other Mullets.
This guy had his hair shaved to within a 1/2 inch of his scalp all the way down to the nape of his neck, and then there were 2 feet of long, luxurious, curly tresses down his back.
I wish I had had my camera.
It was the kind of hairstyle that prompted one to tell everyone to casually walk past the section for a look at this thing.
My co-worker V walked up to Customer Service a short while later and we asked her if she'd seen the Mullet Guy.
She said, "You mean Billy Ray Cyrus over there?"
HILARIOUS. Business in the front, party in the back. Mullet Guy's mullet was even more extreme than Billy Ray's though, because the 'business' end was much shorter.
Funniest secondhand bookseller experience of the week?
Once again the winner is my co-worker S with Harmonica Man.
Last week, she was working when a customer rolls up.
"Hi there, can I help you with something?" she said.
"Hi. Do you play the harmonica?" he asks.
S told me later that she wasn't aware that playing the harmonica was a required skill of working in a bookstore.
"No, I don't," she replies.
"Oh," he says, disappointed."Well, do you have any books on playing the harmonica?" he continues.
"We may have a couple of them," she said. "I think there's a kit we sell that has a book and a harmonica together..."
"Good! Because I need to learn how to play it before Christmas!"
This was last Wednesday. I'm no expert on the harmonica, but I picked one up once and tried it. It's a lot harder than it looks.
Good luck to Harmonica Man, and whomever he plans to serenade with it Bob Dylan-style over the holidays.
Right now we could sell anything to anyone. People are realizing that there's only 3 shopping days left, and they still haven't gotten everything.
The other day a woman hurriedly walks up to Customer Service and asks frantically, "Do you sell Snuggies?????"
I almost felt bad that we didn't, she was so desperate looking.
"No, I'm sorry we don't. But if you're looking for the perfect gift for the Snuggie Wearer that has everything, we do sell "The Snuggie Sutra"!"
Yes, that is an actual book. If we ever find THAT one in the men's bathroom, I'm really going to fear for humanity.
But yeah...people will buy anything right now. One co-worker remarked the other day, "If the last thing we had in this store to sell was a steaming pile of crap, someone would buy it."
Cookbooks, for example. When we first set up the promo tables for Christmas, the cooking section wasn't even being sniffed at.
Now? It's pandemonium. "Shit, I don't know what to get Fred... I know! I'll get him a cookbook!!"
Three days left.
And then the REAL work starts.
Returns, returns, returns.
"Whaddya mean I can't return this board game after I opened it and played with it 20 times? What kind of return policy is that??"
Merry Christmas everyone!!! Don't let the Shifty Santas get you!!
A cornucopia of crazies came rollin' on in this week. Christmas is getting close and it's cold outside by NC standards, so I knew they would.
If you sell it, they will come (notice the cornucopia I chose is full of fruit).
Last week, remember how I stated that I become slightly afraid when I get called up to the front for customer assistance? That time it was Logging Lady. This week it was Calendar Guy.
I get up to the front after I hear the page, and the cashier tells me that the customer is looking for an Anne Geddes calendar. You know Anne Geddes...she's the one that dresses babies as cabbages and people think it's cute?
I notice that the customer has an Anne Geddes calendar in his hand already, and I point this out. Call me Captain Obvious.
"This ain't the right one," he replies.
The cashier shows me the picture of the one he wants and he follows me out to the calendar racks. When I say he followed me, I mean he followed me. I mean he practically glued his feet to my feet just in case I got more than two inches ahead of him.
I'm sure all of you have had an encounter with a 'Close Stander'. These people are completely missing that natural chip in their brains that tell them "YOU ARE STANDING TOO CLOSE AND THE OTHER PERSON IS UNCOMFORTABLE". They're the ones that will sit right next to you in an empty movie theater when there are 200 other seats to choose from.
I'm a person that doesn't even like being that close to people I know and like.
I'm sure I get one Close Stander a day at the store. There's one particular lookup computer in the music department that I dread using. It's the only one in the store where the screen and keyboard face towards the customer. So my back is to the customer standing behind me when I'm looking a title up for them. For some reason that gives people the green light to practically dry hump me into the desk.
Anyway, I take Calendar Guy into the section, and he's spouting off compliments about me. Conjure up a "paddle faster, I hear banjo music" sort of accent in your minds.
"You sure are a beautiful lady. You have such pretty eyes, wow you're good-lookin'! And your hair. I love redheads! You're just so beautiful. I guess I should shut up in case my wife comes up behind me. Did I mention how good-lookin' you are???..."
So everyone likes a compliment. I'm not a total dog, so I occasionally get asked for my phone number and I have to flash the wedding ring. But when a 60 year old man is following you so closely that he's practically saddling you up, the compliments become a bit creepy. Especially when they don't stop. I said thank you 5 times, and he still went on.
We get over to the calendar rack in the corner, and he was standing way too close. I backed up around the fixture, and he backed up with me. I was pretty much pressed against the wall. Keep in mind that he's complimenting me the whole time, and simultaneously telling me just how many of those Anne Geddes calendars we should have in the store.
Booksellers are not supposed to tell customers exactly how many of a certain product that we have. We are all human beings, and human beings make errors. Things get put in the wrong place and we can't find them. If a customer knows you can't find something and they've been told that there are 10 copies of it, you look like a total asshole.
"There are 6 of 'em. She told me there were 6, but I just can't find 'em. Did I tell you I think you're pretty and I want to wear your skin as a snowsuit??"
Okay, he didn't say that last part, but it sure felt like he was thinking it.
Creepy McCreeperson.
I just couldn't find him the calendar he wanted, and he finally left with the one he originally had in his hand. And I was left with the intense urge to take a shower and to write" The Twelve Days of a Bookstore Christmas".
Twelve crackheads sleeping, Eleven children screaming, Ten CDs stolen, Nine customers ranting, Eight fruitcakes raving, Seven chairs soiled, Six porn mags hidden,
Four Close Standers, Three strippers limping, Two tattooed bikers,
...and a Frappuccino spilled on the floooooooor!
Speaking of raving fruitcakes.
The other night I was at customer service, and a dude walks up. I could tell by the shifty look in his eyes that he'd had all sorts of crazy for breakfast that morning. He sounded like Peter Lorre in 'Arsenic and Old Lace'.
"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but I just wanted to tell you that I was outside the library tonight and I saw the eclipse and I just wanted to tell you that you had better be good yeah and I'll be good and we all need to be good so something bad doesn't happen I see you're probably busy but I just needed to tell you that and you have a good night I'm sorry to bother you..."
Ho.Lee. Shit. I thought I was gonna get stabbed. He seriously was talking like that. I haven't encountered a run-on sentence like that since reading James Joyce. Joyce was kinda crazy like that. But he only had one crazy eye.
I don't know what the hell Eclipse Guy was talking about. The sky did look a little weird around sunset, it was yellowish-green...I don't know. I'm just glad the dude backed up and walked away before I had to call security.
There was porn found in the men's bathroom for the second time this week. I was shelving some books near the cafe when I overheard a customer telling this chick he was with that he had to go to the bathroom and that someone had put a stash of porn in there.
I turned around. "Did you just say there was porn in the bathroom?"
He looked at me like he wished I hadn't heard so that he could go in and look at it again. "Yeah."
I sent our assistant manager in there with a pair of gloves. He came out carrying two books. One was a large Kama Sutra photo book, and the other was "Sex For Dummies".
The Kama Sutra I can understand. "Sex For Dummies"?? Who the hell uses "Sex For Dummies" as spank bank material? "Ooh, I get all turned on by educational descriptions, semi-witty quips and crude ink drawings!" I suppose it's not that weird...after all, there are people out there who like it when people paddle them or pee on them. But I can even understand THAT more than I can understand someone getting off on "Sex For Dummies".
Why do people even need 'how-to' sex books anyway? This is one of our most popular ones:
Where's the imagination? Why don't you just ask your man what he likes? What if he doesn't want his perineum probed?? What if he doesn't want his testes tugged??
I found that book left on the Bible table yesterday. Makes sense. If you follow the book's instructions, you'll make your man see Jesus.
I've mentioned before that my company is all about freedom of speech. When it comes to books, we sell anything and everyhing.
The assistant manager and I were cleaning up near the end of the night (the same night we found the 'porn'). We were talking and this woman strides up to us.
"Hi. So I can't BELIEVE that you don't sell books by Hitler. This is ridiculous. I thought a company like this would sell 'Mein Kampf' for sure! I'm very disappointed in your company."
I'm sure the both of us looked like deer in the headlights. "Actually ma'am, we do sell 'Mein Kampf'. I'll show you where it is," I said.
Hitler Girl follwed along behind me. Thank God she kept her distance, unlike Calendar Guy.
"Well, I don't see it anywhere. It's not in your biography section. Where else would it be?"
She just kept talking and saying how disappointed she was. A lot of people buy 'Mein Kampf' and I went straight to the shelf it was on in the European History section.
I put it her hand, and she acted surprised like she had thought I was lying about having it in the store. She was delighted. Then she was quickly disappointed because we didn't have Hitler's second book.
I offered to try and order it. "What's it called?"
She looked at me like I had just asked her what year it was. "It's called 'Hitler's Second Book'."
Then she went into a lecture about how Hitler was so smart and was quoting 'Mein Kampf'. Now, I don't deny that Hitler was charismatic. Most fascist rulers are, don't ya know? How else would you get people to follow you and kill 6 million people for you? But I generally hate murderous leaders who use their charisma for pure evil and I don't go around quoting them in public places.
The assistant manager that was there with me had grown a mustache for the month of November, it's a fundraising thing that they do here to raise money for sick kids. We had been joking all month that he should shave it into a Hitler-stache. Of course he didn't do that, but he dyed it black for fun. After the woman left, he mentioned that and we laughed. Can you imagine? She would have thrown herself down on the ground in front of him in a 'we're not worthy-esque' sort of way.
This week's Wiener of the Week Winner is....drum roll please!
The Marine that was standing in the Current Affairs section with his buddy, talking very loudly about shaving his balls.
Literally. " ...SO I TOTALLY HAD TO SHAVE MY BALLS LAST NIGHT BECAUSE THIS GIRL..."
There was a family looking at books just behind Customer Service that looked up at this, over in the Marine's general direction. Then the family looked at me like, 'Aren't you going to do something about this?'
I actually had to go over and tell the Marine that if he was going to talk about his balls, he had to be quieter about it. Well, I didn't use those words, but you know.
Funniest Secondhand Bookseller Experience of the Week?
My co-worker S had a good one. I'm not quoting exactly, because I wasn't there. But she deserves a guest spot in my blog (S is a weirdo-magnet), and this is how it happens in my mind.
S:Hi there! Is there anything I can help you with?
Customer:Yes. I'm from New Jersey. I'm looking for a book on baby care, but you probably don't have those down here. [ie: The South]
S:Actually we do...[S, who is from the South, finds the book Jersey Girl is looking for]
Jersey Girl:There's no box with this. Doesn't it come with a box?
S:No ma'am, I'm sorry, it doesn't come with a box.
Jersey Girl:Oh. I don't want it then.
Apparently in New Jersey, all the baby books come with boxes and they think Southerners learn all their baby care tips from the local Mountain Witch Woman. Maybe everything comes with a box in New Jersey. Like the dead bodies that the Mafia dump into the Hudson River. How do you like that false stereotype, Jersey Girl?
Christmas is next week. We're getting down to crunch time. I'm thinking of writing another Christmas song...."It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest".
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