thank you, come again

love is in the air...

2005-02-14T23:45:00.000-08:00

Ah, valentine's day. We get one every year and every year it's the same. Quick. Panic. Does anybody love you? Are you doing enough for the person you love? What do you mean, you don't have anything for your girlfriend/wife/boyfriend/husband?! WHAT KIND OF AN ANIMAL ARE YOU?!?!

Or at least that's the impression of this oh-so-festive day of days that I got today.

We had a very steady day, in terms of customers and sales. More than the usual Monday, that's for sure. Of course, the majority of these sales were under $6. Cards, people, greeting cards to be exact. And lots of 'em. Pretty ones, ugly ones, sentimental and humourous ones - cards, cards, cards.

Now, I don't understand the whole greeting card thing. I say, if you want to send a message to someone, send your own message. Draw your own picture. Fold your own goddamn paper. But why spend your good, hard-earned money on some gilded and glittered picture of a heart, or a couple embracing, or a kiss, or better yet a poem. Do you really think that a crappy little piece of folded cardstock makes up for the time you told her that maybe, and it might be the lighting, but maybe she DID look fat in that dress? Or the countless times you told him that you were "too tired tonight?" No. When you give someone an overpriced greeting card, you're simply telling them that you're too lazy to make them feel appreciated the other 364 days of the year. We're destroying forests - ecosystems, if you will - to make these ugly pieces of shit that get thrown away (how many people recycle their greeting cards?) and forgotten.

I mean, no one really expects you to keep them, do they?! For many, many clutter-filled years I held on to every greeting card I've been given since I was a child. When it came time to move this past fall, I had to go through all the boxes and drawers that I had conveniently forgotten about or hidden away and sort through this pile of memories. Ultimately, I threw everything out.

And since when does valentine's day have to be about relationships? When I was a little girl, my parents would always have some heart-themed teddy bear and lotsa lotsa candy for me. But now, I don't need teddy bears, and I eat too much candy as it is, but I'm still left with the understanding that the big V is about showing those you love - friends, family, and yes, lovers too - that you love them, that you appreciate who they are and what they add to your life.

And yeah, you should eat too much chocolate. And hey, no one said you can't take the love of your life for a night on the town.

But please... save the rainforests. Boycott greeting cards.

an exception to the rule...

2005-02-09T21:54:00.000-08:00

This has nothing to do with the store or anything, but it was too priceless to pass up.

Apparently, on the new season of Survivor, there's a dude named Bobby Jon Drinkard.

His favorite colour is blue and he enjoys drinking soy milk when not drinking Miller high life.

Wow.

la la la... i can't hear you...

2005-02-02T09:38:00.000-08:00

Loyal readers, I ask you - how much information is too much information?

Case in point...
About 10 minutes before my shift ended yesterday, a young woman came to pay for a notebook. OOPS! She forgot that she was also looking for some poetry by ee cummings. "Where would I find that?" "Um, in our poetry section" (but that's another story for another day).

She went to look for a book, came back and said:
"OHMYGOD! I have to pee so bad. Don't you hate that? When you're looking for something but you have to pee so bad?! I think I'm going to burst. Omigod. Omigod. I really have to pee."

I exchanged glances with one of my coworkers and rang through her sale. As she was gathering her bag to leave, she mentioned again, as if maybe we had missed it the first time, "OHMYGOD! I have to pee. Holy crap. I have to find a washroom, like, right now. GOD don't you hate that?!"

And with that she was out the door.

Now, hearing customers' sob stories seems to be a frequent occurance in retail. It's not enough that they have to tell you the whole story behind them needing a bag.

("Do you need a bag?" "Ummmmmm........ yeah, cause it's starting to rain and I have to make 3 more stops before I go home to my sick child, and the book is kinda heavy, not to mention attractive, so I wouldn't want it getting ruined in the rain, while I make my 3 stops, cause I'm looking for a pair of shoes. By the way, do you know where I could get a nice pair of shoes around here? Mine are really old, and I think it's time I get some new ones. And I'm hungry. What's a nice brunch spot in the area?")

Seriously, though, why do we (and I'm sure I'm guilty of this from time to time too) feel the need to explain ourselves to strangers? Why can't we just say "Yes I'd like a bag" PERIOD. END OF CONVERSATION. And I certainly don't want to know if you have to "piss like a racehorse."

Please.

Keep it to yourself.

oh no, here we go...

2005-01-25T20:15:00.000-08:00

Mrs. X has a new favorite. I'll give you three guesses who that is.

(sidenote: if one more person asks to interact their purchase, I'm going to lunge across the counter and hit them with my best shot)

six of one...

2005-01-12T23:41:00.000-08:00

So, dear, loyal, patient readers, we have gone from too-busy-to-find-something-to-write-about to too-dead-to-find-something-to-write-about. Christmas? Over! Boxing week sale? Over! Mind-numbing boredom? Just beginning!

I've decided that maybe the best course of action here is to keep it quick. Small snippets of craziness, rather than long drawn out stories (unless the day merits one).

Today I'll break down the "happenings" into three categories:
1) Why I shouldn't be alowed around famous people
2) You and your teacher can kiss my ass
3) Get out of my store you dumb fuck

1)
So I'm at the store, minding my business, reading the latest Glamour magazine, when who should walk in but none other than Ms. Sarah Harmer herself. I watched her in a semi-stalking-but-more-like-observing-gently way as she made her way around the store, browsing elegantly. She came up to the cash and this was, more or less, the exchange we had:

Sarah: "Sarah Slean put out a book a while ago. I was told you had it."
Me: "I wish! I think we had it on consignment, cause it's not in the system. I know we did have it at some point, but we don't anymore."
S: "Oh well. Thanks anyway"
Me: "I'm a huuuuge fan, by the way. Oh lord, I sound like such a dork. I'm sorry. I just thought I should say something. Gawd, I'm such a dork."
S: "Hey, be a dork. Thank you."

I'm sorry, but I thought that was the coolest thing she could have said. I still felt like I had a big scarlet L on my chest, but, man, was I dignified.

2)
It's January. That means that schools have entered their second semester. Students, especially those who attend my favorite of all post-secondary institutions, *insert name of local art college here*, have been scurrying like little bratty bunnies into our store looking for crappy graphic design manuals. They all come in and ask for the same books and when we say we don't have them, that we haven't had them in months even, they look all pained and wounded. This is where the usual retort of "but my teacher told me I could get it here" comes in. Now, at first I was apologetic:
"Oh, sorry, yeah, we used to have it, but we're sold out right now."
But now, as student after painstakingly unoriginal student comes in, my patience has worn thin. My response has become a smarmy, somewhat bitchy:
"Well, maybe your teacher should have told US about this before they sent you all."
Or, in weaker and slightly hungry moments:
"Can you tell your teacher to stop sending you all here? We don't have any of these!"

This job is turning me into such an impatient brat.

3)
This story needs a preface: we have a very straight forward, albeit strict return policy. If you keep your receipt, you have 2 weeks to exchange or get a credit for your purchase. At Christmas time and in the weeks following, we have been much more lenient. We're still taking exchanges on things purchased at the beginning of December.

Anyway, yesterday this guy comes in, returns a book and gets a credit. I knew something was strange when he said "So how long do I have this for?" and I said "do you mean when does it expire?" and he said "no, when is it good until?" Oy. I told him it was good until he used it. It doesn't expire. Just don't lose it. Blank stare, blink blink, nod, awkward eye scan.

Today the same guy comes up and asks if we would buy his credit off him. I told him we couldn't do that and he just looked at me and said "but there's nothing I want to buy!" I told him that he didn't have to decide right away, that he could come back whenever he felt like it, whenever there was something he liked, and use it then. This seemed to panic him even more. At this point, another woman had come up to the cash and was attempting to buy a book. Dude asked if she would buy the credit off him. She didn't look too sure about it, but said she would try, but she didn't have the cash. Then, more panicked, he looked around the desk, looked at her, looked at me and picked up the credit again (I should mention that it was for a whole $17.66). I told him he could use it on magazines, stationary, anything in the store, anytime he wanted.

To make a long story short (too late, I know), he went over to the magazines and brought back three randomly girly magazines that he said were for his girlfriend: Lucky (a magazine about shopping), some home decorating magazine and Modern Bride. It came to just over $18 and he had to pay the difference. He was about to interac the $0.69, since he only had $0.47, but I just took that and told him I'd call it even. The whole exchange made me feel dirty.

So that's that. We're up to date. I'm trying, I really am. I don't even know who reads this (besides the two people who have commented on my lack of updating) so I hope that those two (oh, you know who you are...) keep reading and keep enjoying.

the calm after the storm...

2005-01-04T09:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, my pretties, I'm back in blogging action. It's been quite the holiday season. I have now learned why my precious co-workers, in all their snobby glory, hate boxing week. Allow me to set the scene for you...

So Christmas rush was crazier than the guy on the street who yells "Can I ask you a question" to everyone who passes him, every day of the week, every week of the year (but that's another story). I learned that in that one week before Christmas, sales can be upwards of 20X that of 'normal' times of year. As you can imagine, lines were long and customers bitchy. Everyone wanted Jon Stewart's America (sold out) or the Da Vinci Code (sold out - unless you want the overpriced illustrated edition - yeah, I thought not). Anyway, long lines, bitchy customers, blah blah blah. Time flew. All of a sudden, I found myself walking into the store on boxing day - a store aglow with flourescent coloured tags that advertised 20% off all books, 50% off all calendars. The boss and his family were there in full force, adding tags to more and more and more books, often covering the title/author in the process. I asked my kind and patient co-worker why they put so many tags on the books. She said that they were in a panic about low sales, and wanted to make sure people knew there was a sale going on. Well, as I predicted, that did nothing.

"Are all your books on sale?"

"Is this book on sale?"

"Are only the tagged books on sale?"

"Are you having any kind of sale this week?"

Amid these lost and bewildered customers came a new barrage of customer queries, quandries, questions and cunundrums:

No, we don't do returns without a receipt - even if it was a gift - even if you already have it - even if the price tag is still on the back. You could have walked out the door with that book five minutes ago. (Although, a flaw in the logic of that policy is that we don't give $ returns, we're exchange or credit only, so even if they did steal the book, the value of the book is already lost, therefore if they exchange that book for another one, then the value of the loss stays the same. So what the f*** is all the fuss about.)

My favorite encounter of the past few weeks has got to be my encounter with one of my former coffee shop co-workers. This dude was kinda twitchy when I knew him a couple years ago. He was out of law school and procrastinating doing his clerking, thus procrastinating becoming a lawyer and had been at the 'bux for 5 years. Anyway, I heard that he left that place shortly after I did and actually did the lawyer thing. Good for him.

So anyway, lawyer boy comes into the store, recognizes me, we shoot the shit for a couple minutes, then he asks if I can look up a book for him. Absolutely. No Problem. What's the book?

He gives me some title, and asks about the hardcover. I tell him the price of the hardcover, tell him we can order it for him if he wants it. Then he adds:

"Nah, I don't want it. I had it, but someone stole it from me. Now I'm taking them to court and suing them for it, so I needed to know how much it was worth."

Oh dear. That's a $30-40 book. Someone went from anti-lawyer to mega-lawyer in two and a half years. Slow down, buddy. Take it easy. Maybe law school wasn't such a great idea after all.

the spirit of the season...

2004-12-14T19:15:00.000-08:00

Distracted by the pleasures of abusing staff discounts, rolling into work at 11am, and other retail perks, I had forgotten how much I hate working retail at Christmas time. This will be my third stint as a holiday worker (HMV and Williams Sonoma being the first two) and it doesn't get any less frustrating with age. In fact, the older I get, the wiser I get, the stupider everyone else gets (or so it seems).

And it is precisely because of this frustration that I have been absent from the blogosphere. You see, dear, loyal readers, at this time of year there are so many stupid people passing through the doors at the shop that by the time I get my hands on a computer the stories are jumbled and repressed. And it's so busy at the store that I don't have time to jot down little things here and there to help me remember later on.

So please, in this most festive of seasons, find it in your hearts to forgive me. I'll do my best to bring some amusing tales to your attention, but after a certain point, and after a certain amount of idiotic repetition, things become less about comedy and more about me wanting to stab myself in the jugular with a ~~ballpoint pen~~ sharpened candy cane.

shame...

2004-12-05T22:54:00.000-08:00

In reference to my last post about my uninformedness, I have received the answer to my confusion last week. And, of course, cause it's me, there's a whole story around it. You love it. Smile.

At work, next to one of the cash registers, we have two ongoing lists:

1) Stupid customer behaviour
2) Stupid things customers ask

You might be thinking "Those sound like the same thing." Well, to be frank (God, I hate the jokes people make with that - 'Can I be frank?' 'Only if I can be Sally' - what's up with that?!), anyway, to be frank, they are the same thing. But they're both really funny. And there's some shameful things in there. I'm going to try to steal it away long enough to get some 'classics' for you.

Anyway, so I decide to add a comment to the list, after dealing with a woman on the telephone (not Mrs. X, although she did come in early today - and she remembered my name - scary - I don't want her to know/ask for me by name), anyway this woman on the telephone:

Me: "Hello, (insert name of bookstore here)"
Woman: "Hi, is this a bridal store?
Me: "Pardon me?" (her voice wasn't very clear over the phone)
Woman: Is this a bridal store?
Me: "Nooooo, it's a book store."
Woman: "But do you sell bridal gowns?"
Me: "Nooooo, we sell books"
Woman: "Are you sure?

Okay, so that was funny, and I was writing it down on the list. I was writing it down and I glanced up to the few new entries above and I saw one about that joke I didn't get. This is how the situation is explained on the list:

'Do you have "Eliot" by Daniela Deronda?'
'I think you mean "Daniel Deronde" by George Eliot'
'No. It's "Eliot" by Daneila Deronda'

See, now I get it. It makes sense. I dunno, I kinda found it funnier before I knew what the joke is. I think the joke was that she was so confident and so wrong. I guess that's funny, but I much prefer laughing at my own star moments.

now I eat humble pie...

2004-12-01T15:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know that my previous posts have come off sounding, well, snobby and patronizing. I figured that I should turn it all around today and let you all in on my own literary stupidness. Maybe stupid is a harsh word. Maybe I'll use uninformedness instead. I know, I know, it's not a word. Settle down, take it easy, you should try making up words yourselves. It's fun.

GET ON WITH IT

I was in the back room of the store. I was working on packing up returns to send back to publishers (the deadlines are all this week, so my associate and I were working quite diligently). My associate, who is much more informed in the ways of classic literature, philosophy and the likes, starts telling my manager a stupid customer story (these are as popular among us staff as they are for all you who read this). Apparently, a woman came in asking, nay demanding that one of my co-workers find a particular book for her. Now, this is where the biggest joke-I-don't-get came into play, and please, if you have any idea what makes this funny, by all means let me in on it.

So the woman asked for "Elliott" by Daniella Derunda (disregard the spelling, as I didn't read it, I simply heard it). And when my associate told my manager, they both started laughing hysterically. And for the rest of the day, whenever my co-worker and my associate were in the same room, they re-enacted the moment and laughed hysterically.

Now, myself, not wanting to appear weak or naive or, God forbid, uninformed, well I just laughed right along with them. With all of them. Every single person working that day. All laughing and making fun of this woman. And I had absolutely no idea what was so funny. And then, well, that in itself became funny.

Later on it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the only one pretending to get it. Wouldn't it be even funnier if the only people that got it were the two with whom the story originated? And everyone else was just laughing to deflect attention from their confusion.

Or maybe that was just me.

don't make this harder than it has to be...

2004-11-29T22:18:00.000-08:00

So, it goes without saying that there are always going to be people who know more than you, and there're always going to be people who know less. That said, some people just don't try. Case in point:

Dude walks into the store eating a banana (now, this is just a pet peeve of mine, and many of you might not have the same reaction, but people eating bananas in stores really irks me). He stood in front of the cash, munching on his banana, and then asked me to throw out the peel for him. Pet peeve + pet peeve ≠ respect from me. So, as you can imagine, this dude was already on my bad side. After I tell him that he can come around to the other side and throw his banana peel out himself (I'm not about to touch a stranger's slimy, sticky banana peel - is it just me, or does that sound wrong?), he asks if I can look up a book for him. He doesn't know the title, but it's about Machiavelli and it's about "this thick" (he mimes about 6 inches between his thumb and forefinger). I know right there that we don't have it (based on the size) and he says "Are you sure, I saw it at the reference library." Then I say "Yeah, I'm sure. We have other things by Machiavelli in our Western Philosophy section," and I point to where he should look.

I watch him scan the shelves, and he comes back and says "I can't find anything." Now, I knew at this point that he was looking at the top shelf only and, with Machiavelli not being in the first few letters of the alphabet, I was confident that he didn't even give a good look. So I go over to the shelf and point out not one, not two, but four different editions of The Prince. He asks, "Why do all these different books have the same title?" So I explain the concept of different editions of classics. I tell him to pick the one he thinks looks nicest, or is easier to read, or is cheaper. And then he says "But I want something by Machiavelli, not about him," and he points to the cover that says:

Niccolo Macchiavelli

The Prince

Just stop and think for a second. Please. Take a moment to let common sense win the uphill battle against stupidity. Please. PLEASE!

Anyway, you get the gist.

In addition, I would like to say to all of you (although you are all smart and I'm sure you wouldn't do this...) but if you're looking for a book, and you ask the clerk about it, and they say "yes, we have it in the _________ section," don't go running off if you don't know the author. Bookstores file books alphabetically by AUTHOR.

I'm such a snob.

on darwin...

2004-11-28T23:07:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I thought that maybe, just maybe we as a species were evolving. And not necessarily evolving physically, which I'm sure we are, but evolving mentally, socially, emotionally. How the fuck, in the year 2004 (almost 2005) are there still skinheads in this city? I mean, this is Toronto for chrissake. The little bastards walked into my store this afternoon and proceeded to the history section and spent about 20 minutes going through Mein Kampf and biographies of Mussolini. Now it's not just that they had shaved heads, they had the whole garb. They had shit-kicking boots laced all the way up their calves over black pants, army jackets with patches that said skinhead right under patches of the fucking Canadian flag (fuckers), and red suspenders hanging down their backsides. They were frighteningly real and right there, smiling to me as they walked out. Fuckers!

so young, so, um, simple?

2004-11-26T12:43:00.000-08:00

So we've been getting these students in the store, I think they're from the Ryerson University publishing program or something. Anyway, they have this assignment about bookstores and how they categorize things. Now, they must be in first year, cause they're research skills are, sadly, a wee bit inept. A couple of weeks ago, one girl came in and started asking me about where we keep certain books, like what section. So she asks about Alice Munroe's Runaway and I tell her it's in the literature section, but also on the new release table. This confused her (I mean, how can one book be in two places, right?), but she scribbled down what I said anyway. Then she asked about Jane Jacob's Dark Age Ahead (which is next on my reading list, I must say) and I mentioned that it was in our Political Science/Sociology section, but also on the Social Sciences table in the back. Now, she got really confused at this point. "Wait," she said, "Which section is it? Political Science, Sociology, or Social Science?" "Um, Political Science and Sociology ARE Social Sciences," I answered. Then she got really embarrassed and scribbled that down, pretty much word for word (Political Science and Sociology are Social Sciences). She thanked me for my time and ran away. Ok, so she didn't exactly run, but she probably meant to.

Yesterday, while working in the back trying to get some returns out while the fresh-off-the-picket-line UPS workers are providing free shipping charges to established account holders for Thursday and Friday, a sort of "thanks for your patience/sorry for the inconvenience" deal, another young Ryerson student comes to the big window at the back and starts asking me questions. I ask her if she's from Ryerson, and mention that some of her classmates have been in asking questions already. I think that embarrassed her, cause she started talking in a much squeakier voice than she had started with. Anyway, instead of asking about specific books, this young thing (she looked so young!) asked much vaguer questions. She started with "How do you choose what books go in each section?" To which I glibly replied, "Um, based on the subject of the book. A history book goes in the history section." (At this point I started feeling like an ass, cause I didn't mean to be so bitchy.) Then she asked, "Well, for instance," and she looks up at the sign above the window, "why is this section called 'insert name of bookstore here'?" Ouch. I could feel her embarrassment before I even answered her question, and I tried to answer it nicely, without too much contempt in my voice, but it came out "That's the name of the bookstore," with a you idiot tinge to it. Then, with even less confidence (I'm such a destroyer of young minds), she asked how our store was different from Chapters or Indigo. "Well," I started, "we're not a chain, we're independently owned and operated. We offer a more specific selection," and then added "I don't really know what else to tell you. Do you have a more specific question?" (Looking back, I was really bitchy to this poor girl, and I kinda feel bad now, but her questions were pretty inane, and I had lots of work to do. I blame the teacher for creating such a lame-ass assignment.) Anyway, she went on to ask why we don't have a specific section for marked down books (which we do, and it was right behind her - my manager pointed that one out to her), but she meant like that section at Chapters/Indigo that has new releases marked down by 30% (so she explained) and we said that that's not what we're about, and that because of our size, we can't afford to do that kind of thing, blah blah blah. Then, looking way past embarrassed and even, I must admit, a tad defeated, she slinked away.

Now, I'm not one to relish my ability to wreak havoc on the self-esteem of those younger and more impressionable than myself, but I really don't think she was trying that hard. Her questions seemed too spontaneous and she hadn't done that much planning. If she's in university, she should have, or she should have at least been told to do more research on books and bookstores before coming out. This isn't the first week of school. These kids have been there for a few months already, they should know what to ask, right? Shouldn't they?

I feel dirty.

the stuff legends are made of...

2004-11-22T22:05:00.000-08:00

In the past two days, I've had four, count'em FOUR run-ins with our most notoriously ridiculous customer, once Mrs. X (name witheld to protect all involved). She's a lady in, shall we say, the last stretch of her life (she's old, get over it). Let's just say that I was warned about her long before I had the oh-so-enchanting experience of making her aquaintance yesterday afternoon.

Mrs. X is o-b-s-e-s-s-e-d with books. Not just any books, but books that we don't carry. And she wants them all in hardcover. It's her "thing". And she's rude. Her ability to strip the last shreds of dignity from your already ravaged retail-working soul is tremendous. And me, well I'm new, therefore incompetant in her eyes.

So, after hearing about her for weeks, I finally had my first Mrs. X experience yesterday. She came up to the desk, looked at me for about a half a second and snapped "Who are you?" I gave her my name, she leaned in and shouted "WHO???" I gave her my name again and she said "Oh, like Bankhead" and smiled, and I said "Yes, exactly." I thought that maybe the legends were exaggerated, or at the very least that my warm smile and lovely name would pacify her. Not so. Her smile quickly disappeared and she backed up and snapped "No, you won't do. You're too new. I bet you can't do anything" (Now, this is actually what she said. I'm not taking any liberties here.) So I gladly stepped away and waited for my kind and patient co-worker to come back. Then Mrs. X ordered some book, bought another (after yapping about it for 15 minutes to her friend - the fact that she has a friend shocked everyone on staff), insisted that said friend receive a discount card because, well, she's a friend of Mrs. X's, yacked and yacked (loudly, I might add) in the middle of the main walkway in the store for another 15 or so minutes, and finally left. Phew. I was partly excited to have finally crossed paths with such a wonderfully, how can I put this, colourful person.

Well, I came into work at 11am this morning, and my kind and patient co-worker informed me that Mrs. X had already called to make sure the book she had ordered was indeed ordered. Then she proceeded to tell my kind and patient co-worker that she was in the process of upgrading her hearing aid. Conveniently after my kind and patient co-worker had left for her lunch break, the phone rings. Verbatum conversation (I wrote it down right after, so I wouldn't forget):

Me: Good afternoon, (insert name of bookstore here)
Cranky voice: Is (insert name of my kind and patient co-worker here) there?
Me: I'm sorry, she's just left for her lunch
Cranky voice: Who is this?
Me: (insert my name here)
Cranky voice: WHO?
Me: (insert my name here)
*CLICK*
*dialtone*
The call display distinctly read Mrs. X

This happened again (exact same conversation) about 20 minutes later - hang-up included.

Then, for her third call, after following the same conversation pattern, chose, instead of hanging up on me, to ask if "anyone who knows anything" was there. I gladly passed the phone to my manager and let him order her crappy hardcover book for her.

Now I've always been taught along the lines of 'you get more flies with sugar than lemons...' or 'treat others the way you want to be treated,' and I've followed that kind of wisdom forever. You know what though? She gets what she wants every damn time.

cellphones are better anyways...

2004-11-21T22:47:00.000-08:00

When I started working at the bookstore, I was expecting to cross paths with enlightened minds - writers, readers, people who at least know their left from their right. Well, I have been let down. Perhaps I can blame the location, we are, afterall, right smack dab in the middle of one of the busiest and sketchiest stretches in the city. I thought our target demographic were educated, informed, literate folks, ready to suck up new information like those pretty pink sponges I use to wash my dishes. Ladies and gentlemen, I was sorely mistaken.

I will devote this blog to relaying stories of the insane, the idiotic and the incompetant. In other words, our customers. We thank them for buying our merchandise, but we secretly ridicule them for being, well, dumbasses.

Some things we can let slide... if you call up the day of a Noam Chomsky lecture looking for tickets, we'll kindly inform you that they've been sold out for months. THIS IS CHOMSKY, PEOPLE! HE SELLS BETTER AND FASTER THAN UGG BOOTS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! I guess I should put this one in a little more perspective. See, Noam Chomsky, especially since 9/11, has become, well, bigger than Jesus. We have two whole shelves dedicated to his and only his books. He is THE authority for liberal-minded quasi-intellectuals. And when it is announced that he is going to be doing a lecture in a month and a half YOU BUY YOUR TICKETS RIGHT AWAY. Now, maybe I'm not being fair. This isn't just a case of people waiting too long to get the chance to hear an old man drone on about American foreign policy and international relations. Blame is in part due to the nice folks who put on tonight's festivities, who provided us with about 10 tickets, and then stuck our logo on all their promotional material, including websites and posters, leading fans to believe that we had more than our paultry 10 tickets - that we were, in fact, a legitimate ticket seller. Not so. Oh. And if you call looking for NORM Chomsky tickets, or NAOMI Chomsky tickets, or NAAM Chomsky tickets, prepared for a smug and impatient response from a smug and impatient bookseller.

And no, you can neither redeem nor collect indigo rewards. And no, you cannot use your Coles card. And no, our computers do not tell us what Chapters has in stock. And no, you cannot get your magazine tax free because it's dog-eared, even if you snap "Well, it's a good thing I'm not seventeen and want to put this on my wall" ("this" being a cover picture of snoop dog - cause, you know, there's no other pictures or posters of him out there). And no, WE DO NOT SELL PAGERS (think about the name of the bookstore, and this one makes a bit more sense. It's not good sense, but it's some kind of sense, that's for sure.)

Tomorrow is another 8 hours of "No, you can't borrow a book from us." and "Yes, we sell non-fiction" and "No, your other left."

And the truth is, I actually really enjoy my job. Go figure.