inthelouvre.org

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Today I was in the ‘E’ section of fiction talking to Liana about overstocks or some other such bookstore nonsense to fill up the one minute I had before my break time when a man approached me and asked if I was “knowledgable.” It would depend on what he wanted to know, I pondered, but asked, “what can I help you find today?” He quite simply said he was looking for Hannibal Rising but he didn’t have to give an author because I was already on my way, passing the ‘H’ section (because for some odd reason we don’t stock books that have large quantities in the sections people will be looking for them; rather, we are required to stack them throughout the store in various locations that don’t always make sense) and straight to the Nicholas Sparks endcap. When I turned around he told me they should keep me around, then asked to look at my teeth.

“Now let me see your teeth, my dear,” were his words as I recall them. I’ve never had a problem with any visit to the dentist, except that I find my dentist a frightening and intimidating man, as a person. I believe I actually looked forward to most dental appointments, so I don’t have any bad associations with metal things in my mouth or awkward conversation with my mouth open. However, at this point in time, I got extremely nervous and started thinking of excuses as to why I hadn’t been to the dentist, because surely this man was a dentist. Why else would he be asking to see my teeth? “Hmm, yes, very good,” was his reply to my pearly whites.

He then proceeded to ask me a series of questions about my life - general things that aren’t unusual from customers, even if they aren’t regulars. Have I been in this area my entire life? What school did I go to? What did I major in? — things of that nature. (They always seem excited when I tell them English, but less so when I mention mythology and folklore. And come to think of it, I guess it is a little intriguing how much interest these people take in our lives; I mean, sure, I found that book for you in a manner of seconds, saving you minutes of browsing and using your brain, but I’m not any more exciting than the next guy.) My next inner thought to his responses was that he was a psychic of some sort, one of those people who can tell you your life story based on a few minor details, or someone who at least can read body language and responses well enough to know the kind of person you are. I was nervous he’d reveal something and ask me if he’s right, that I’d have to reveal a significant detail of my innermost emotions to this strange man who took such interest in me. It was kind of a dramatic reaction, but he seemed so much like an author to me, as if that moment of my life was part of a story he’s writing about a girl who works in a bookstore. A lot of thoughts crossed through my mind and I had the sinking feeling that he could read them. I began to sweat.

He called me beautiful. It wasn’t in a creepy way, but the way you tell your grandmother she’s beautiful, and he then told me that that’s the kind of beauty I possess: “The beauty that will last ages. You look older than you are and your beauty comes from that. Your features are perfect. I am an old man, as you can see, and I have had lovers and seen beautiful women all my life. I know beautiful women, and you are a beautiful woman, and you will continue to be a beautiful woman throughout your life. You are one of those women who will grow older, but keep her beauty. Do you know that? As others beside you wrinkle and gray, you will retain your youth, or at least seem to.” “Forever beautiful,” he called me.

The man then told me that I should keep lovers, not husbands, that I should look for great lovers and not good husbands, not yet, because there’s a very good chance that a “great husband” will not be a “great lover,” and a “great lover” will certainly not be a “great husband.” I am young and beautiful and young people are filled with such passion, such lust, and it’s very unnecessary to become attached at such a young age. I shouldn’t settle down or get married and definitely not have kids until I’m older and spent and full of great lovers, traveling, and life. He regaled me with details of boys today, and how I should be careful in my choosing of these great lovers, because “most men today are idiots, they aren’t good enough for you; they pretend they are rappers and gangsters and they don’t appreciate life or literature or art, not in the way I imagine you do.” I’d want a lover who I could converse with late into the night.

And my husband? My husband should be rich. I shouldn’t settle for a poor fool, because I only deserve someone who can provide the best things in life for me, and no, he wasn’t talking about love and happiness, but materialistic things, because even though we put emphasis on “selflessness” these days, all beautiful women deserve to be sprinkled with gifts and supported properly. It will be tempting to marry a man who cannot fully provide for me, but I have to ignore that nerve and go for the guy who is at least decently worthy of me. But I should also find someone who is genuine and faithful, because he must appreciate that my inner beauty is the best thing that will ever happen to him in his life, and my outer beauty is incomparable to anything else he’s ever experienced. He may get jealous, but he’ll know in his heart that I am just as loyal to him, if not even more loyal, because it’s true that all men have stray thoughts. The other requirement is that he knows what I want before I want I know it, or before I tell him I want it, and gives it to me without my having to wonder about it or mention it. I deserve no less.

He asked me if I knew that I was beautiful, and I said yes. He said that made me even more beautiful.

When I woke up from this dream I was standing next to the Nicholas Sparks endcap, one less Hannibal Rising on the floor stack. I was smiling. I won’t take the advice, but it left me feeling more alive than I thought I could be based on such a brief encounter. I am sitting here, in bed, with the laptop on my lap (or lackthereof, since I’m in such a position that there is no lap) and next to me is a boy telling me about a game he’s playing and I’m smiling because he is so excited and so handsome. I think of this stranger and what an effect he may have had on my life, depending on how the future turns out, and I think of this person close by, and it all starts to make sense.

And maybe this is all just one big story, or maybe it’s an episode within a story, but it has to be something artistic because these kinds of things only happen in movies.

Things I Got Today

1. A headache¹.
2. Hit on².
3. A blueberry muffin³.
4. A hug⁴.
5. A raise⁵.

¹I can’t attribute this headache to anything except lack of sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well lately: Three guesses as to why.

²I always seem to get hit on at work by the most ridiculous people. They’re also always really short, and never speak English as their first language. Saying things like “I don’t have a phone” and “I have a boyfriend” and “my boyfriend kills bears for a living” and “I’m actually only working here today, then I’m moving to Alaska,” these things, they just don’t ward these people off. For some very strange reason, they actually believe these comments, but they always come back with responses such as, “It’s okay, I’ll call you at work” and “Oh, you have a boyfriend? Want to see a movie anyway?” and “It’s okay if you’re moving out of state, we can just go out tonight.” Today was especially creepy because the guy followed me back to the bathroom, and even though I tried to stand in there for a good 10 minutes (I was on the clock and all, so I couldn’t waste too much time), he was still there when I got out. Luckily for me, the “I have to work so I can’t talk” statement does seem to get them to leave. Dude today said he’d come back later but as far as I know, he never did.

³We have the best fucking blueberry muffins ever, if you’re ever around a Joe Muggs. They are just the right amount of squishy.

⁴Much needed.

⁵I was then told that I’m the first person to have the “guts” to ask for a raise and shortly after receiving my raise, which took all of fifteen seconds to acquire, I was told to tell Ricky to ask for his raise. I managed a whole quarter, even though I asked for a dime and a nickel. Very pleased with myself, though mind you, I still plan to have a new job by January at latest.

In Which I Talk About Some Customers

Yesterday at work I told someone that Jesus Christ was my Lord and Savior and that I was Saved, and other such capitalized words for the sake of religion.

Scary Christian Girl #1: Excuse me, where are your Bibles?
Me: *walks towards Bibles* They’re straight across here, on the back wall.
Scary Christian Girl #1: Thank you!
*pause*
Scary Christian Girl #1: By the way, do you believe in Jesus Christ?
Me: (thinking, yes, because he was a real person at some point, whether or not the Son of God) Yes I do, absolutely!
Scary Christian Girl #1: Good! Have a nice day!

I was on my way to the front of the store, looking for a book for another customer. I was stopped by another customer who, I should have guessed, was friends with Scary Christian Girl #1.

Scary Christian Girl #2: *holding a sale copy of The Message* Excuse me, what is this book?
Me: It’s a religious book; a popular one. People come in asking for it often.
Scary Christian Girl #2: Have you read it?
Me: *scared for my life* No, I haven’t.
Scary Christian Girl #2: Do you know anyone else who has read it?
Me: Uh, not off the top of my head, no. I can’t think of anyone who has read it.
Scary Christian Girl #2: What do you suppose it’s about?
Me: (at this point, I am frustrated that I have to pause in helping the original customer to have a theological discussion - even after I had told Richard earlier that I wasn’t in the mood for any kind of theological discussions) I suppose it’s about the Message of God.
Scary Christian Girl #2: Very good! Yes, it is. Do you know who Jesus Christ is?
Me: Yes, I do.
Scary Christian Girl #2: Jesus Christ, as in, your Lord and Savior?
Me: Yes, Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. I am Saved.
Scary Christian Girl #2: EXCELLENT!
Scary Christian Girl #3: What’s up?
Scary Christian Girl #2: I was just talking to this girl about Jesus Christ!

They walked away, so I continued my journey to find the missing stack of books. Last I saw, they’d tag-teamed off into the cafe, and were still there 20 minutes later. Terrified that one of the cafe people would reveal my non-Christiandom, I avoided the cafe all together until they left. I mean, come on, I could either continue life with three converters thinking I was Saved, or I could get berated by Jesus Christ’s bodyguards for lying about it. Little do they know, I am Jesus Christ.

**

And then I went to bed.

Just Another Stress

Crappy ending to an otherwise good day: I had just walked up to the customer service desks after finishing all my other tasks (bestsellers, new arrivals, and top shelf) when this woman comes up and says, “Do you have any other copies of this book? This one looks like it’s been read.” It was The Secret Hour by Luanne Rice, and yes, it did look kind of used, as most of our books do because we are inside a mall and people come and sit and read in between movies. So I looked it up and saw that we had 5 additional copies. I went over to where it should have been in the section, but none of them were there. She walked up to me and said very politely, “where are the books?” I said I wasn’t sure, that I could look at the features and other displays to see if they had been set anywhere else. Up to this point I thought she was like any other customer, kind of frustrated that the book she wants is messed up but patient and otherwise polite.

Of course not! Why do I think such things?

“I KNOW there are at least TEN other copies of this book. I saw them in the store just the other day, but I don’t remember where. DON’T TELL ME THEY AREN’T HERE.”

“Ma’am, I am just saying they aren’t in the section. It’s possible they are on a display. If you would like, I can go look for you.”

“No, they aren’t, they were with other books. I saw them. Can anyone not do anything around here? Are you THAT incompetant?”

I said once more that I’d look up front for her, and her response was, “you are SO dumb, why is this your job?” …At which point she stormed away talking to her husband about how stupid I was that I couldn’t find one book in the store. I found the book just where I thought it was and then clocked out and went home. I know she was still in the store (in fact, in the cafe right across from the fucking book) but it is my personal policy that if you’re going to be unnecessarily rude to me, I’m not going to help you.

Being on Register

One of my favorite exchanges while on register is still:

“Would you be interested in signing up for the discount program?”
“Can I use the card at any bookstore?”
“Yes, any Books-A-Million location.”
“Oh, not any bookstore? I couldn’t use it at Borders?”
“We aren’t affiliated with Borders.”
“What about a used bookstore?”
“…”

Yes, we sell the universal bookstore discount card. Sometimes I want to tell them to try it and report back to me with their results, but I’m sure at least one person will take the comment seriously and come back complaining.

–

There is also:

“Today, since you are spending $100, your discount card will be free.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“It’s no extra cost, and you will get 10% off of every purchase for a year!”
” - hesitant - ”
“You’ll also get a free cup of coffee or tea over at Joe Muggs.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Are you sure? It’s free, and next time you will be able to save.”
“No, thank you.”

and:

“The card today will cost $4 in addition to your final price. You will be saving $6!”
“Yes! Okay, add it.”
- five minutes after I hand them the card, coupon book, and they start walking over for their free coffee, they turn back and ask -
“Excuse me, what is this discount card on my receipt? I didn’t purchase that.”

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