Bookseller Blues

by Arny Heywood

1

Mar. 26, 2001—With everything I've got going in my life (?) I've had to economize my hours of employment (Barnes and Noble Booksellers). I work one day a week—Sunday, from the morning to the afternoon.

And maybe I find myself a bit out of practice. I don't always know where a particular title is located, or even if one is a bestseller. Week in, week out, I begin from scratch. My incompetence will not even permit me to brew the complimentary coffee. This is why I like operating the cash register much better than I used to, because the exchange between bookseller and customer is often simpler.

The bookstore has a phone number that customers may use to call and inquire about a number of titles. Customers can place orders and have books put on hold for them. Last Sunday I answered a call from a woman who wished to be put in touch with the reference department. Truth be told, booksellers aren't assigned to departments so I replied that I was the reference department. She immediately refused! She demanded to speak with an older bookseller, and that I don't know Jack Shit (her words)!

This was the climax. Because as much as I'd like to tell you I came back with a real show-stopper, that didn't happen. I hung up the phone.

I once told an author that I was glad we didn't carry his book, and that was the last of the wisecracks.

2

May 3, 2001—Working the information desk at Barnes and Noble is a bit of a misnomer. That isn't to say the information desk isn't a desk, it is. It's the information part that holds the wrong designation.

How can I dispense information when I get questions like, do you have a list of all the books I've ever read? (Gosh, I know it's here somewhere. Maybe I left it in my locker.) I like this one: do you have any books with photographs of dinosaurs? (Sure, lady, we have books of photographs from 65 million years ago.)

I don't find books by the color of the dust jacket. I find them either by title or author. "Exuse me, I'm looking for a book. Now, I don't have the title or the author. But the book is white with red lettering, and it has a Massacio drawing on the cover. I think the people on the cover are nude."

These incidents overmatch even the skills of our better booksellers, and I am always happy to point them out. In the meanwhile, my stint at the information desk will be flooded in a sea of misinformation, from customer and bookseller alike.

3

June 13, 2001—I fall into the group that lights up at the sight of a beautiful face. I learned very fast that a working knowledge of books was the door to the women I so coveted. So I became a bookseller.

I don't make my rounds at the bookstore. No dates have been produced because of my employment. This is at odds with four of my co-workers, who have found love by way of the customer or the fellow bookseller.  When I think of that, I know I've missed plenty of opportunities.

Last summer, my co-worker observed an exchange between me and a female flight attendant—she was in her garb, wings and all—at the register. And she was pretty. After the sale of her books I asked her if she would like a hot towel, to which she laughed at my silly quip. When she exited I was told by this co-worker that she had been scoping me out. The thought of being so ignorant put me in distress.

It happened once again. This time my friend, visiting me in the store, observed a similar occasion: at the register; a pretty girl; an exchange; a smile; and another third-party observation with astute answers about my love life.

I love women. But I'm not love-savvy. I'm not Hugh M. Hefner. I know this much is true. Nobody needed to remind me of that.

4

June 18, 2001—Homework is a valuable task for any pupil of any age. I love it in particular when the student brings his or her studies to the bookstore.

"Excuse me, do you work here?" "Yes. Are you in school? If you'd like, then you may have any page out of this book."

Seriously, the bookstore is a fine place to acquire educational material. We do offer a discount to education professionals, and I obtain most, if not all, needed texts for my classes.

I remember when a middle-school student brought her homework and McDonald's hamburgers to our store. She was there for more than four hours. And did she gather her belongings? No!

I think Barnes and Noble should apply for accreditation and offer university-level courses. Store clerks would become instructors, professors, and deans. ("Hello, I'm the Dean of the Barnes and Noble School of Self-Improvement. Please read Phil McGraw's Life Strategies, it's a bestseller.")

Barnes and Noble. An institution of higher learning, lower learning, and no learning.

5

July 15, 2001—Since this magazine has literary connections to China, and since I have had my own Chinese connections, and since I write a little column for this magazine, I thought I'd share the following.

I missed the opportunity to visit China this summer. I stupidly listened to those who objected, and I put it behind me. But China was on my mind for several months. And I thought: if I couldn't go to China, I would study China independently. I would learn all I could about the great nation. And, in the end, all would come to fruition.

At the bookstore, I was registering a transaction for a woman who was buying one book and returning two. This allowed us more than a quick, friendly exchange. Was the woman Chinese? (She sure looked Chinese, I thought.) I offered Ni Hao and, yes, she was indeed Chinese! She said that she was from Beijing. And she intended to visit her home to attend the 2008 Olympic Games. Before she left, I said I wanted to see her at the bookstore again.

I hope to make more and more Chinese friends. This will only be realized when I visit China next year.

Continued—»