<$BlogRSDURL$>

True stories from a retail newbie.

Sunday, June 20, 2004

During my first few weeks at the store, I spent a lot of time standing glumly behind the info desk while my co-workers stood in a knot hunched away from me, whispering and laughing uproariously. Between waif-like girls asking for the South Beach Diet, teenagers looking for SAT guides, and anyone and everyone requesting the Da Vinci Code, I caught snatches of what they were saying. "Did Lisa really...?" "And she slept with....." "Knocked over a whole....." I realized these things weren't exactly headline news, but I couldn't help but want to be a part of it. I felt left out, and pretending to myself that it was my sterling work ethic that was keeping me apart had quickly wore thin. As the days went on, I realized what I needed was an in.

One of those sad early days found me leaning listlessly at the desk watching S, Deborah, and Steve merrily engage in an orgy of gossip. It was only eight in the morning, so there were scarcely any customers to help, and the phone was strangely silent. The desk was organized, the books on the shelves in my vicinity still neat and upright. In short, there was nothing to distract me from my isolated boredom, and I was quickly reaching my breaking point. As I fantasized sidling up to my coworkers and inventing some fodder, the phone rang. I picked up, and said in my highest, sing-songiest, robot-on-crack like voice, (the voice I always use when I answer the phone at work)-

"Good morning, Barnes and Noble, this is Rachel, how can I help you?" The voice that answered was a mature, an older woman, and all business.

"Hello, I'm looking for quill pens. Would you happen to sell them?" I scanned my still shaky mental inventory of the store. I was pretty sure we had some calligraphy pens with decorative feathers on the end, but the question confused me. Did she want a genuine old-fashioned quill pen, or would one of those silly gift items do?

"Well..." I stared, "We have some pens with feathers on the end..."

"Perfect!" She paused, then asked, "Could you bring some over to the phone?"

"Um, of course, just hold for a moment." I put down the phone and pushed past the still chattering S, Deborah, and Steve, casting them a mental evil eye. I rushed over to the gift department, and scooped up three different versions of "quill pens." One was bronze, with a bronze feather on the end. The other two had "real" feathers. I pushed past my coworkers again with my armful of pens. They didn't seem to notice.

"Okay," I panted into the phone, "I got those pens for you. Now, this one is $12.95 and it's-" She cut me off.

"Do you know what I want to do with these pens?"

"Um...well...write?"

"No. I want to stroke them along the bottom of people's feet."

"Oh, I...." I was taken aback, but for the sake of customer service, I tried to normalize the comment in my mind. She continued,

"Do you know what that's called?"

"Errr.." I cast around for eastern medicine-esque names that could fit, "Reflexology?"

"No, no. Now Rachel, what would you feel if I was to run a feather up and down the bottom of your foot?" Rachel? RACHEL?! Then I remembered I'd said my at the begining of the call. I cast a desperate eye towards my coworkers, but they were still engaged, completely unaware of the strange turn my phone call had taken. I ventured, "Ticklish?"

"Yes!" She seemed exceedingly pleased. "Now, Rachel, this is what I want you to do. I want you to take off your shoes, take off your socks..."

"I'm sorry," I startled, "I can't do that!"

"Rachel, I know you're behind that desk.." OH MY GOD, COULD SHE SEE ME? No, it was probably a lucky guess. Most of the phone at the store were behind desks... But still! "I... I..." Then it came to me. I could hang up. I dropped the phone into the cradle and stared at it like it was a snake. After a shaky moment, and a quick look around the store for 60 something females with cell phones, I had a revelation. A broad grin breaking out on my face, I turned to my coworkers, "Um guys?" As they turned, I declared joyfully, "I just got propositioned by a female foot fetishist!"



|

Friday, June 11, 2004

Ok, so I guess I could explain a little more about the promotion. The store hierarchy is as follows: There is one store manager who has three assistant store manager(S, for example, is an Assistant Store Manager). After that comes the Department managers- one for the Cafe, one for everthing else that's on the first floor, and two for upstairs. (Mary is the first floor manager, which is where the information desk is located.) Within each department, there are sections. Downstairs we have New Releases, Travel, Gift, Magazines and Bargain. Each of these has a Lead Bookseller. The lead bookseller is in charge of their own small section, and gets to boss around the booksellers who work within it. I am now the Lead Bookseller in (Fanfare Plese!) Bargain.

There are a few things that made Bargain unique. For one, the books are arranged in broad sweeps- they have amorphous categories like Mind Body & Spirt, or Cooking, House and Home, Psychology & Humour. Anything that falls under the vast heading is put in one section, and once there, it is neither alphabitized by author, nor restrained by it's subcategory. You tend to find books on bathroom humor wedged between Betty Crocker Recipe binders and books on Jungian dream interpretation. Another bargain novelty is its lack of geographical consistency. Bargain is only nominally on the first floor. In reality, there are bargain displays in almost every section. The last thing that sets bargain apart (although it is not the only section where this is true..)is that aside from the lead, there aren't any booksellers who work exclusively in Bargain. So when I say leads get to boss people around, I really mean that I will get to boss myself around, which truth be told,will be a nice change from being bossed around by others. So the lack of organization, the scope, and the solitary nature of the section taken together conspire to bring about the most terrorfying truth about this promotion: The bargain lead is the only person who can find any given bargain book. Whereas if a bookseller insisted that they didn't know how to find a cookbook, they would be given a firm talking to, it is accepted that no one can find the bagain books except the bargain lead. Even the managers don't try. Layla, the current lead, is leaving in one week, and from that point on, I will be expected to remember the location of every bargain title in our inventory.

In preparation, I have begun spending my days skulking around the store staring at displays, willing my memory to become photographic. Yesterday was Layla's day off, and although my ascension has not been officially announced, every one who has one ear to the store gossip mill (which is pretty much everyone) knows that I am at next at bat, so in Layla's abscence, they started paging me with questions. It was horrifying! The only thing that saved me was that Layla had explained to me which bays contained which general category, so instead of looking at every book on every bargain shelf in the store, I could just look at every book on two or three shelves, and maybe a small mission table or two. The first thing I plan on doing during my reign as bargain queen is to teach everyone in the store this litte trick. I don't know why it isn't common knowledge that bargain is split into categories. It seems a very inconvienent secret to keep.

Oh well. Say goodbye to your friendly neighborhood info girl, and get ready for frazzled bargain maven........

|
Well, it's happened.

I've been promoted.

I know I now stand even less of a chance of fighting the dark forces that would suck me deep into the Bookselling world.

HELP!!!!
|

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

In the interim between this post and the last, I’ve been trying to decide what I should post about. Of course, there have been plenty of new crazy customer incidents. Friday alone there was that French tourist who crouched dramatically in front of the info desk then sprung up again, crying out, “Peekee-boo!”, and then later that same afternoon there was the woman who swaned importantly through the store cornering employees to ask them how they felt about the topic of “good touching and bad touching” as it relates to preschool-aged children. I thought about writing an entry about these women, and those that came in the days that preceded them, but honestly I couldn’t see what would be gained by it. I think I’ve already demonstrated beyond refute that the mentally instable make up a large portion of our clientele…………………….

As I racked my brain for other things I could blog about, while keeping within the bookselling domain, it occurred to me that I’ve met lots of authors. As my manager told me when I was hired, “This is New York. Everyone is a local author.” And seemingly, he was right. Everyday someone come in, either to cheerfully sign copies of the new cookbook they put out, or to gripe about why we only have one copy of their three hundred page tell-all about clipper ships. Sometimes people who are quite well known, (or about to be) come in. Ron Chernow, author of the new best selling biography Alexander Hamilton , came in right after his book was released. He told me he came by to sign his books as a productive way to kill time between interviews. The day the newest Da Vinci Code-esque novel, The Rule of Four, came out Dustin Thomasan, one of it's two authors came in to sign books. (He actually thanked me for helping to sell his book. I told him I doubted he was going to need much help. I was right. It’s been firmly routed just under the Da Vinci code for best selling hard cover fiction ever since it debuted.) In addition to these lucky few who are actually going to clean up from being writers, I’ve met countless other mid-level, backlist-y type authors, like the guy who co-authored the Lilly Pulitzer book, the man who wrote Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, and the woman who wrote The Right Address. Generally though, these encounters don’t make very good stories. The authors are usually courteous and friendly if we have stock on their books (whether it be three or three hundred copies) and either irate or pleading if we don’t. I sometimes wish I could whisper to the successful, “Tell me how to become a writer,” but I never do. I should probably try it sometime though. Most of them, the moderately successful ones anyhow, like us bookseller types. They see us as playing for their team.

Aside from the crazy people and the authors, most of the other people who come in the store are normal in the general sense- meaning there are plenty of others walking around behaving just like them. My days are filled with nannys asking where the children’s department is, mothers on their lunch break running in to pick up a copy of Ten Real SAT’s, business men looking for Managing Human Resources, and middle-aged women on their lunch break looking for the latest Mary Higgins Clark.

So with all those coming in and out of the stores doors accounted for, that leaves me with only my coworkers left to detail. When I first started blogging, I thought that my entries would be filled with scathing remarks about them. I pictured myself detailing the cruelty of my managers, mocking the pettiness of the “cool” girls, and tracking the mistakes that any fool on the outside would know not to make. It’s been less than two months since I started this blog, but somewhere in the intervening weeks I’ve negotiated that awkward terrain between new girl and old hand. Where the new girl may have been able to write mean and petty things about those she worked with, the old hand feels protective. It makes me realize: “They” aren’t “they” anymore. They’re me. So I guess that begs the question- if I’m them, will I have anything left to say in this blog, or am I too far indoctrinated into the B&N world??

Wow. That is a terrifying thought. Cross your fingers for me……. And hope you hear more soon.


As for Reading Recommendations:

For one, definitely check out Michael Faber’s Crimson Petal and the White if you are into sexy Victorian historical fiction (Sarah Waters fans will love it, as long as they aren’t too attached to the lesbian theme. Crimson Petal is fairly het.)

My hero, David Sedaris, has just released a new book- Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. Sadly, at least half the stories had already been published in the New Yorker, but it was still well worth reading! I especially recommend the story Six to Eight Black Men.

Also, reread Prisoner of Azkaban in preparation for this weekend. Every time I reread a Harry Potter book I marvel at just how engaging they remain. If you haven’t read the Potter series, you’re probably living under a rock, but GET THE HELL OUT FROM UNDER THERE AND READ THEM, DAMMIT!!

|

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?