Jack and the What?
Remember when I was talking about how I'd write something, but it would have nothing to do with what I intended to write? Well, when I wrote the catch up chapter, I left out the story that made me think about it.
A while ago, a guy came up to me and asked where "Walter the Farting Dog" was. This is a real children's book. So, I walk him over to the kid's department, and he starts talking to me.
"I can't believe that's a real book. Man, if I'd have known I could write about farting dogs, I'd be rich. I'd write "Jack and the Bean Queef."
Wow.
"I could write something like Harry Potter, shit. J.K. Rowlings has nothing on me!"
I handed him the book and ran away. For those of you who may be wondering what queef is its air that comes out the front instead of the back of a woman, typically after nookie.
Why do people do this to me?
The other day, I was helping some guy find some books, and he's rattling off all these titles, and pulling cards out of his wallet that kept notes on and telling me to find those books, and he's got a list of about 6 or 7.
"What about this one? Do you have it? Where is it? Now look this one up. Look this up, girl."
Excuse me? Did you just call me "girl"? You condescending little fucker. I just wasted 20 minutes of my time on you.
Two in a row, I had. The guy before him walked up with a cane he wasn't using and asked if we had electric carts for the "mobility impaired".
No.
Speaking of mobility impaired, there's one lady in a wheelchair that comes in once a week. She also complains once a week.
"Why don't you put automatic doors in here?"
Valid point; we should have automatic doors. However, we don't own the building. It's up to the landlord as to whether or not to put automatic doors in.
"I'm going to come in here and complain until it gets done. If nothing happens, I'll go to the newspapers."
Okay.
I'm sorry, but this lady's a beeeeeyatch. Instead of saying, "Excuse me, it's hard to maneuver in the bathrooms; could you hold the door for me?" she says, "Wait until I'm done so you can hold the door for me." Yes, my liege.
You'd think after four years of this garbage, I'd be used to it. One night there was so much recovery, it took all four booksellers a half hour to clean up after we closed. It usually takes maybe ten minutes with two people. Fuckin' slobs.
Don's on vacation until July. He left June 7th or so.
People are dropping like flies. A bunch of people are leaving, some have already left, and some just don't say anything until the night they leave.
One of our head cashiers, Janelle, left a few weeks ago. (I affectionately referred to her as Janelly.) So we've only got one. We're down two managers: Don and Bridgette are both on vacation for a while; Jesse's finally leaving for Portland on Sunday. He's transferring to another BN and plans on being a street musician. We lost our café lead to another store so he could be manager there and our café manager just up and left one night.
She called one of the café servers around midnight on Saturday saying she was catching a one way plane to Colorado at 3am. She wasn't coming back. Café right now has about 6-7 people when they usually have about 11- 12.
Blech. I had a dream last night that I sold 13 member cards in one day, which is totally impossible.
I always dream about BN. I'll dream that we can't get people to leave after we close and we're there till like 3. Or I'll dream about people that I work with in completely weird situations. Like two coworkers just going nuts and beating on each other. Or me whooping a customer's ass.
Three thieves to talk about.
The first one is a girl who comes in every weekday, same time, and leaves at the same time. She spends the first part in the bathroom, stinking the place up. She'll bring in two books, even though that's not allowed, and sometimes she comes back out with both, sometimes with one, or sometimes with neither. She may or may not be stealing; we're not exactly sure, but even if she isn't, she's still weird.
The second one is a guy that came in all the time a few months before Christmas. We suspected him of something, so we slipped a security tag into his backpack. He hadn't been seen until a couple of weeks ago, so we're keeping an eye on him. He claims to be a Marine. He's got the haircut, but that's about it.
The third one, well, it was actually a whole family. Two moms, a girl about 15, and a boy about 8. Mom #1 was in the music department with the kids, while mom #2 was out and about somewhere else. Matt calls me back to music, and we watch them. They're poking around, and mom #1 buys something. They leave. The boy takes off his coat and bundles it up. Matt runs out after them and traps them. He tells the boy to give up the CD, which he does, and then tells him that CD's have to stay in music. They leave again, without either mom saying a damn thing. No "Hey, why are you stopping my son?" or "Boy, what'd I tell you about stealing?" We also think that the girl got away with something, too, but we're not sure. Hello, parental supervision?
The next punk ass high schoolers that come in and leave their school shit lying around is getting that shit graffitied. We found a Greenfield (or Greendale, I don't remember.) high yearbook and a Greenfield (dale) high planner in the café. If your name is Brittany, we found your yearbook. I don't think we still have it. You may have picked it up. While we were searching for the owner, we almost left a little note for you, but decided not to.
That's all I've got for now, but I'm sure I'll think of something the minute I upload this.
I've been thinking about splitting this up a little bit, since it's so huge. I mean, 42 thousand words? Whistles appreciatively. It might be a little overwhelming to newcomers. If I decide to do that, I'd stop here and start a new one. It'd be My Job, Volume 1.
Remember when I was talking about how I'd write something, but it would have nothing to do with what I intended to write? Well, when I wrote the catch up chapter, I left out the story that made me think about it.
A while ago, a guy came up to me and asked where "Walter the Farting Dog" was. This is a real children's book. So, I walk him over to the kid's department, and he starts talking to me.
"I can't believe that's a real book. Man, if I'd have known I could write about farting dogs, I'd be rich. I'd write "Jack and the Bean Queef."
Wow.
"I could write something like Harry Potter, shit. J.K. Rowlings has nothing on me!"
I handed him the book and ran away. For those of you who may be wondering what queef is its air that comes out the front instead of the back of a woman, typically after nookie.
Why do people do this to me?
The other day, I was helping some guy find some books, and he's rattling off all these titles, and pulling cards out of his wallet that kept notes on and telling me to find those books, and he's got a list of about 6 or 7.
"What about this one? Do you have it? Where is it? Now look this one up. Look this up, girl."
Excuse me? Did you just call me "girl"? You condescending little fucker. I just wasted 20 minutes of my time on you.
Two in a row, I had. The guy before him walked up with a cane he wasn't using and asked if we had electric carts for the "mobility impaired".
No.
Speaking of mobility impaired, there's one lady in a wheelchair that comes in once a week. She also complains once a week.
"Why don't you put automatic doors in here?"
Valid point; we should have automatic doors. However, we don't own the building. It's up to the landlord as to whether or not to put automatic doors in.
"I'm going to come in here and complain until it gets done. If nothing happens, I'll go to the newspapers."
Okay.
I'm sorry, but this lady's a beeeeeyatch. Instead of saying, "Excuse me, it's hard to maneuver in the bathrooms; could you hold the door for me?" she says, "Wait until I'm done so you can hold the door for me." Yes, my liege.
You'd think after four years of this garbage, I'd be used to it. One night there was so much recovery, it took all four booksellers a half hour to clean up after we closed. It usually takes maybe ten minutes with two people. Fuckin' slobs.
Don's on vacation until July. He left June 7th or so.
People are dropping like flies. A bunch of people are leaving, some have already left, and some just don't say anything until the night they leave.
One of our head cashiers, Janelle, left a few weeks ago. (I affectionately referred to her as Janelly.) So we've only got one. We're down two managers: Don and Bridgette are both on vacation for a while; Jesse's finally leaving for Portland on Sunday. He's transferring to another BN and plans on being a street musician. We lost our café lead to another store so he could be manager there and our café manager just up and left one night.
She called one of the café servers around midnight on Saturday saying she was catching a one way plane to Colorado at 3am. She wasn't coming back. Café right now has about 6-7 people when they usually have about 11- 12.
Blech. I had a dream last night that I sold 13 member cards in one day, which is totally impossible.
I always dream about BN. I'll dream that we can't get people to leave after we close and we're there till like 3. Or I'll dream about people that I work with in completely weird situations. Like two coworkers just going nuts and beating on each other. Or me whooping a customer's ass.
Three thieves to talk about.
The first one is a girl who comes in every weekday, same time, and leaves at the same time. She spends the first part in the bathroom, stinking the place up. She'll bring in two books, even though that's not allowed, and sometimes she comes back out with both, sometimes with one, or sometimes with neither. She may or may not be stealing; we're not exactly sure, but even if she isn't, she's still weird.
The second one is a guy that came in all the time a few months before Christmas. We suspected him of something, so we slipped a security tag into his backpack. He hadn't been seen until a couple of weeks ago, so we're keeping an eye on him. He claims to be a Marine. He's got the haircut, but that's about it.
The third one, well, it was actually a whole family. Two moms, a girl about 15, and a boy about 8. Mom #1 was in the music department with the kids, while mom #2 was out and about somewhere else. Matt calls me back to music, and we watch them. They're poking around, and mom #1 buys something. They leave. The boy takes off his coat and bundles it up. Matt runs out after them and traps them. He tells the boy to give up the CD, which he does, and then tells him that CD's have to stay in music. They leave again, without either mom saying a damn thing. No "Hey, why are you stopping my son?" or "Boy, what'd I tell you about stealing?" We also think that the girl got away with something, too, but we're not sure. Hello, parental supervision?
The next punk ass high schoolers that come in and leave their school shit lying around is getting that shit graffitied. We found a Greenfield (or Greendale, I don't remember.) high yearbook and a Greenfield (dale) high planner in the café. If your name is Brittany, we found your yearbook. I don't think we still have it. You may have picked it up. While we were searching for the owner, we almost left a little note for you, but decided not to.
That's all I've got for now, but I'm sure I'll think of something the minute I upload this.
I've been thinking about splitting this up a little bit, since it's so huge. I mean, 42 thousand words? Whistles appreciatively. It might be a little overwhelming to newcomers. If I decide to do that, I'd stop here and start a new one. It'd be My Job, Volume 1.