Since I haven’t ever fully developed a method by which to present the moments we endure as booksellers, I’ll just go back to the story/dialogue approach. So, for your amusement, here are a few of the more recent episodes:
We have a rotating display of reading glasses that is constantly spun and destroyed, and somehow frequently shopped. A gentleman walks in, spins it–as you do–a few meaningless times, then begins to browse. After a moment, he looks at me, points at the glasses (because I surely had no idea what he had been looking at all this time) and says, “Do these lens fit other frames?
“I really have no idea,” I reply. “You’d have to have a pair of frames that match exactly to the frames there.”
“Well, can I take the lens from one of these and see if they fit in my frames?”
“It’s up to you if you want to buy the frames and–”
I don’t even get to finish the sentence. Why not? We all knew where this was going, didn’t we?
“No, I just want you to let me take the lens and see if they fit.”
“Um. No,” I can hear the angels of my mind scream in terror. There’s nothing saintly going on up there at this point. “It makes absolutely no financial sense for me to let you destroy a pair of reading glasses so that you can take them to wherever your other frames are in order to discover that they don’t fit. Right?”
He shrugs, walks out, and leaves me to scramble to Facebook for another round of therapy.
* * * * * *
Being a bookseller is about more than just selling books. You also have to be rather adept in time management and have internet savvy. It isn’t easy to devote the time and energy required to Bieberize yourself.
Zach Bieber
Or to Snooki yourself (which sounds dreadful):
Ew. I feel dirty.
Bookselling is difficult work. Don’t short change those who do it well.
* * * * * * *
Two guys were in the store recently, standing around the magazines–which are sidled to the registers for the record. Both guys are of the “Fun Dip” orientation, if you follow, and are engaged in a heated dispute about Kim Kardashian’s rotund booty. I don’t know what they said. I really don’t. I tuned them out. I probably would have completely missed their exit if one of the guys had not walked over to the counter, staring at his phone, and initiated the following conversation:
“If I were to ask you a question, would you give me an honest answer?”
“I guess that would depend on the question.” Please don’t ask me if I like Fun Dip.
He flips his phone over, giving me full view of a picture he had received. There was this woman–I think she was a woman, but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to hope it was a woman–who was, shall we say, on the large side of life, fully…oh, it makes nauseous to recall it. She was nude. She had big gold stars on her nipples, and she was striking a pose that, well, I don’t know. I think she thought it was sexy. I’m pretty sure this picture could inspire celibacy.
I don’t even hesitate. “Ummm…oooooookay.”
To which my equally disturbed, but quite more Fun Dip-inspired customer says, “Mmmh. That’s what I thought.”
After they leave, I’m spreading the word to the world. I think this comment sums up how I felt about it all: “Yeah, he asked for my opinion. Go figure. It was hideous. I may never speak to people again.”
* * * * * * *
It takes a special kind of person to blatantly leap the bounds of idiocy. I found that person.
“Excuse me, can you tell me how much is left on my gift card?”
I look at the card in his hand. “Sir, that’s a Barnes & Noble card.” I do my usual Vanna White to the logo sign behind the register. “We are The Corner Bookstore. We’re not affiliated with Barnes & Noble.”
He looks at the sign, then me, then his card, then holds it out once again. “Well, can you check the balance for me? I have no idea what’s on it.”
Stupidity, sir. That’s what’s on it. Good luck cashing that in.
* * * * * * *
Another moment from the Vanna White catalog.
“Do you have any books by Dale Brown?”
After a check, I shake my head. “Nope. Dan Brown, but nothing by Dale Brown right now.”
“How do you call yourself a bookstore?”
I turn to face the sign at the register, arm out to showcase the logo. “We are The Corner Bookstore. It’s right there in the name.”
Be wary of your words when talking to a bookseller. Use your internal editor. You can bet they will be, and their internal editor is a smart ass.
* * * * * *
That’s it for now. I’ll go back to the daily approach from now on. If I ever figure out the comics aspect, I’ll start using that as well. I’ve also got some more additions to the Vault of Absurdities, so keep an eye out.
Now go read something. And for the sake of the literary world, don’t let it be Twilight.
