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Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Stories from the Stacks

By: Kathleen Anne Casey

Other tales can be read at shelflifeofabookseller.com

Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Dedication
I dedicate this collection of tales to the booksellers, the people who taught me everything I know. Also to my parents, who listened to every story at the dinner table against their will.

Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Introduction
I work in a bookstore and I am a bookseller. The people I work with are some of the best people in the world. Booksellers are intelligent, interesting, and extremely helpful. I will always remember the first bookseller who trained me, the first bookseller who consoled me after my first of many encounters with an angry customer, and the first bookseller who took the blame for one of my mistakes. After being a bookseller for over five years, I have met some of the weirdest, dumbest, and rudest people. I have also met people that I would go the extra mile for. This is just a small glimpse into the world of bookselling. My only hope is that after you read this, you will realize that the bookseller behind the counter is a person and should be treated as one.

Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Table of Contents

Alphabet Gone Astray Birth of a Bookseller Cavemen with Cameras Disclaimer for the Disconcerted Error in Enunciation Frank or Frankenstein Genitals and Giggles Hopeless in a Hurricane

5 8 10 12 15 16 17 18

Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Alphabet Gone Astray

Children begin to learn the alphabet as early as age two. The alphabet is an integral part of any childs education. So, do you know the alphabet? Most people nod and are amazed at the question; of course they know the alphabet! But if you know the alphabet, why are you shoving a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen between James Patterson and Richard North Patterson? Dont deny it, youve misshelved a book before. A booksellers greatest tool to finding a book is the alphabet. If someone puts a book in the wrong place and it is the only one left in the store, how are we going to find it for the next customer? Have you ever put a book back in the wrong place? Have you ever walked in to a bookstore, have the bookseller tell you there is one copy left of the book youre looking for but they cant find it? Then, have you ever yelled at the bookseller for not being able to find it? I have been called every name in the book by customers when I cant find that single misplaced item: moron, idiot, retard, dumbass, stupid and some other unsavory names. I remember the first time someone called these names and I will never forget it. The man was plump, in his early forties, and had chest hair curling out of his button up shirt. He physically pulled me away from another customer, taking hold of my arm and asked me where Lee Childs novels where. I told him that I was with another customer and that I would be right back to assist him. He loosened his grip on my arm and scoffed then mumbled to himself.
Shelf Life of a Bookseller

I didnt want to go back to help him but it was my job. I plastered on my most pleasant smile and asked What can I help you with today? I already told you, he rudely replied. Are you looking for a particular title? I asked, smile faltering slightly. Are you stupid? I wanna know where Lee Child is! He yelled. I blushed. I led him to the fiction section and then to the Cs, letting him know that all the authors paperbacks were on those particular shelves but if he was looking for a hardcover, it would be in the new release bays at the beginning of fiction. He said nothing, no thank you, not even a grunt of acknowledgement. I stood there for five seconds, an appropriate time to wait, before turning to help other customers. Before I could reach the end of the aisle, he yelled What, you dont got One Shot? Let me check the computer, Sir. I will be right back, I said then went to the backroom. The computer said there was one copy and my heart dropped. The most hated number in the bookstore is one, especially when you are dealing with an angry customer. I gave a heavy sigh, praying to gods that I didnt even believe in to show mercy and let that book be on the shelf. I was six hours into my shift on a Saturday, my feet were killing me, and my deodorant (which promised 8 odor-free hours) frickin lied and fell short. I walked back on to the book floor like I was walking to my death. The reaper, I mean the customer, stood in the section waiting for me. His face was so red that I am sure Crayola would patent that color as Pure Rage. I held my breath and scanned the shelf. It wasnt there. I tilted my head and read title after title hoping that somehow One Shot would appear. I didnt. Damn it. Im sorry, Sir. It seems that the book is not here. I can order it for you, it would only take two to three business days to arrive, I said.
Shelf Life of a Bookseller

What do you mean its not here? He huffed, and puffed, and ruined my day. The computer shows that we have one copy in the store but sometimes it is misplaced. By another customer, I added in my mind. Stupid! Rule number one: NEVER tell an angry customer there is one copy in the store. Well, then you have it. Find it! Are you retarded or something? He waved one of the Lee Child books in the air. Im sorry, Sir. Like I said, sometimes it is put in the wrong place. I can order it, I began but he cut me off. I dont wanna order it, moron. You said you had it, I want it now. If you would like to speak to a manager, I started but once again he interrupted me. How hard is it to find a freakin book in this place? He shouted and shoved the Lee Child book he had in his hand across the aisle somewhere in the Ds then walked off. I wasnt shocked about the name calling or the unreasonable amount of anger. But I was dumbfounded as I looked at the Lee Child book he put back, crammed in with the Ds. He didnt put it back with the other Lee Child books, he took an extra step and turned to the other side. And he wondered why it was so hard to find a freakin book? I collected myself, reshelved the Lee Child book in the right place, and hummed Alanis Morrisettes song Ironic. Isnt it ironic, dont you think?

Shelf Life of a Bookseller

Birth of a Bookseller

I spend most of my life surrounded by books. For me, there is nothing better than sitting between the stacks and breathing in that cold, dry air. I love the perfectly cut pages, the texture of the paper beneath my fingertips, the striking black ink against an offwhite background, and how the books huddle together on the shelf. Even now when I crack open a fresh new book; I get tingles down my spine. It was only natural that I would end up working at a bookstore. I had no intention of entering the retail world but after a year of college and my student debt haunting me through phone calls, the post office, and e-mail I decided to take a year off to work. I signed my name on the bottom of applications more times than James Patterson autographed his own books. Two weeks later, I got called for an interview at the bookstore. I hung up the phone and began jumping and dancing around the kitchen. This wouldnt be my first job, I worked as a janitor and a pet store clerk but working at a bookstore seemed so sophisticated, so different. After my brief excitement, I realized that my current physical state would deem me undesirable. My appearance would be fine at numerous places such as a music store, a hip caf, or a carnival. Blue hair, lip rings, eyebrow piercings, size two gauged ears, and clothes that were nothing close to professional. I knew I had to change. The night before the interview, I began my transformation. I removed all my piercings, dropping the small metal hoops and studs into a small jewelry box. My face felt naked, exposed. I
Shelf Life of a Bookseller

put on a pair of blue latex gloves, not unlike my current hair color, and mixed the hair dye. The box showed a smiling dark brunette but something told me that I would not be wearing a similar smile. The brown dye settled on my scalp, slightly burning my skin and the chemicals made my eyes water. I waited the whole 20 minutes staring at the digital clock on the microwave, knowing that everything I once was would be covered over. I woke up the next morning, got dressed in my mothers clothes and set out for my interview. But before I left, I walked by the full sized mirror. I saw a woman with brown hair, a plain face, dressed in freshly pressed khakis and a blue collared blouse. It was like staring at a stranger. I dont remember much about the interview. I am sure there were questions like Why do you want to work in a bookstore and How would you be a valuable member to our team? but I do remember how the book staff looked at me during my interview. Their eyes were trying to tell me something like Its not worth it and Get out while you still can but I was too naive to know what the looks meant then. I find myself giving the same looks to people being interviewed now. Save yourself, my eyes blink in Morse code. After years behind the book counter, I learned that booksellers start out like a hardcover; strong, resilient, and firmly glued together. But after a few hundred customers, you break down to a trade paperback: bent, rolled up, and coffee stained. After a thousand, you turn into a mass market: yellowed, pages falling loose, and a spine cracked beyond repair. Fellow booksellers handled you with care and helped you from falling apart, but the customers rip words from your pages leaving you silent and empty: a shell of what you once were. But I didnt know. At the end of the interview I smiled and shook the mangers hand. That day, I was reborn as a bookseller. Somewhere in the stacks, a bookseller wept for my soul.

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Cavemen with Cameras

It is not an unusual sight to see a young boy pulling his father to the children's department or seeing a father dragging his son, who is kicking and screaming, out of the store. But I had never seen a son pulling his irate father out of the store until the Dinosaur Man came in. When someone approaches the information desk with a child and asks where the dinosaur books are, I immediately assume that the parent is asking for a book for the child. Such was the case on this particular day a few summers ago. The boy was around five years old, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with the drawing of a green tyrannosaurus Rex on the front. The father, probably in his mid to late forties, was dressed in suit as if he just walked out of an important meeting. He was clean shaven and radiated superiority. His eyes squinted down at me. "I need a book with pictures of dinosaurs" he said. "Right this way," I said. I led them to the children's department to a shelf completely dedicated to dinosaurs. The son smiled and grabbed one of the plush dinosaurs, trying desperately to pronounce triceratops but only being able to mumble out "tray-cara-cops." I smiled and grabbed a popup book and handed it to the boy. Do you like popup books? I asked the boy. No, I dont want a popup book, I want pictures of dinosaurs, the father said.

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Oh, Im sorry. I thought you wanted a book for your son. I can take you to the science section, I said and walked them to the section. I pointed out the few books we had; most people grow out of the dinosaur phase when they grow up. I pulled out a few titles like encyclopedias, field guide, and other literature when the big reptiles were at the top of the food chain. No, I want actual pictures of dinosaurs, he said while shoving the books back on the shelves. Actual pictures? Photographs? I stood there silent trying to find an appropriate way to tell him that dinosaurs were extinct. Apparently this man believed that there were cavemen with cameras that went back in time and were snapping action shots of T-Rex. What could I say? The only things we have are these drawings and the digital renderings, Sir, I said. This is ridiculous. I ask for one simple thing and you take me all over the store and you still cant find it? I want to talk to a manager, you obviously cant help anyone, he said as his son tugged on his arm. I reached for my phone to call a manager. Daddy, lets go, his son whined and tugged harder. Forget it, were leaving. Maybe we can go to a bookstore with competent employees, he hissed. He took his sons hand and walked away. The boy turned back and pointed at the shelf. The boy left the plush dinosaur behind, on the shelf that held books about genetics. Maybe he hoped he wouldnt inherit his fathers genes.

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Disclaimer for the Disconcerted

Booksellers are in the store to help you, but please remember that you are not the only one in the store. We also need to help others. Bookstores are generally understaffed and the amount of time we can spend on each customer is limited. We will do our best but please take a moment to think before you approach us. We also get asked the same questions, over and over, five days a week which chisels away on our nerves. Please read this and make your local Bookseller happy. 1. Hi, Im looking for a book Well it might seem to be an appropriate greeting, it is NOT. We already know that you are looking for a book because you are in a bookstore. I hear this phrase from at least 75% of customers. I urge instead, to cut back on time (yours and mine), and for example say Hi, Im looking for Ghost Story by Jim Butcher. A faster exchange of words will help you get what you need faster. 2. Where is the nonfiction section? This question kills me and it is generally spoken by someone interrupting another customer figuring that we will just wave them to the right direction. There are two general categories of books, Fiction and Non-Fiction. Untrue and True. From that, they branch out to History, Gardening, Sports, Science Fiction, Mysterywell, you get the point. When you ask this, we have to ask (for example) What are you looking for and you might answer A biography on Churchill. You are looking for a biography; why not just ask
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Where are the biographies? Once again, this is a time saver for the both of us. If I was a mean bookseller and you asked where nonfiction was, I would just wave my hand all around the store then ignore you. Lucky for you, we Booksellers are a kind and gentle people. 3. Are you sure it is not in the backroom? If a bookseller tells you a book is not in stock, then it is not in stock. We profit nothing if we lie to you and we have no reason to, it is our job to find what you need. The backroom is not a mystical place where everything you need is hidden away. Mostly, a back room is overstock (more items than we can fit on the floor) of titles we already have. For example, you may see 20 copies of a James Patterson book on the book floor and you can bet there are 20 more BOXES of it outback. Half of the backroom space is for books being returned and yes, if it is due for a return we can see it on the computer screen and we will know to look in the backroom. Lastly, the backroom is where the books are received then put on the book floor roughly by 11am. And yes, we can see the receive date and time on our computer so we will know to go out back. The backroom is not a bookstore within a bookstore. 4. Where is the second floor? I work in a one floor bookstore. It is very simple to see if there is a second floor without asking look up. 5. But, is it in paperback? If a bookseller hands you a hardcover, it is because it is all we have available. We understand that books are expensive, and if you ask for a book, we will generally grab the cheapest version or at least bring back all options. Also, if it is a new book (featured on a table, endcap, or new release bay) it is not going to be in paperback. A book will be in hardcover format for at least 6 months or up to a year until it is released in paperback. But, if you want the hardcover, be sure to ask for that first before we run to get the book!
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6. Oh, and I have another book I need you to find If you have a list of books you need, please let us know. We have no problem collecting those books for you but DO NOT say one book, have us walk back to the section and bring back the book, and then ask for another. Its like a band aid, rip it off quickly. You can hand us the list (please remember to highlight the ones you want) and we can just work on autopilot. Having us walk back and forth takes us more time and it gives the people behind you in line more time to plot your death. 7. Wow, I cant believe your open during this storm/blizzard/hurricane! We are open because people ignore storm warnings and severe weather conditions! The booksellers, I can assure you, DO NOT want to be in the store during a storm. The store stays open because it knows that there are people who will risk their lives and brave the elements. So if you decide to go into a bookstore during a hurricane or blizzard, say nothing about the weather. 8. Hey, the online price is cheaper Then buy it online, pay the $5 for shipping, and wait the 3-8 business days for it to be delivered. The reason why the physical store sells their books at list price is because it costs money to pay for the employees that work in the store! Warning: Every time you buy a book online, a bookseller dies!

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Error in Enunciation

I dont think people realize what they say at the register when they are checking out. Most people are in a hurry and stare the cashier down as if that will make them go faster. I understand, some people have places to be but sometimes being stared at is intimidating and is likely to make me move slower. Everything I do at the registers is now muscle memory. I dont need to think about what to do. I greet the customer and ask them if they found everything okay all while I bag their items and work the register. I am like a robot, doing the same task over and over mindlessly. But sometimes, certain things snap me out of my automaton state. As I give the customer their receipt, some dont say a word. Others take the time to wish me a nice day which I reflexively repeat back to them. Then there are a select few who say Thanks a lot. Nothing is wrong with that particular grouping of works when spoken at a normal pace. However if you are in a hurry, that particular phrase takes on a new meaning. When said fast, for instance by a hurried customer who speaks under their breath or mumbles, it is an insult. Go aheadtry it. Say Thanks a lot over and over again to yourself. Thanks a lot, when given speed turns to thankslot then to thankslut to thanks slut! Im glad that people are saying thank you but I would suggest keeping it simple with just thanks or thank you. We retail sluts dont like to be called out on it.
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Frank or Frankenstein

Most booksellers are well read so we are very good at making book recommendations. If we dont know what to recommend, we might ask a fellow bookseller. In my store, I am the go-to-gal for any science fiction and fantasy recommendations. But I also have read reviews, shelved new releases, and read enough book sale reports to make an educated recommendation. People generally want a book that was similar to what they just read. But one of the most popular questions is, Did they write anything else. Normally, it is an easy question to answer. Sometimes that is not the case. It was late July, just a few weeks after I had been hired so my recommendation skills were limited. Even with the air conditioning on, it was still warm in the bookstore. Every kid was coming in to get their summer reading books because it was too hot to play outside and too hot to sit inside. The bookstore serves as a free air conditioned oasis. The summer reading tables were piled high with the usual titles like The Old Man and the Sea and Catch 22. I was helping an older plump woman find books for her daughters summer reading list. She made polite conversation, remarking the required books for school havent changed much since her day. She picked up a book and smiled. I remember this book! Did she write anything after it? She handed the book to me and I looked at the familiar cover. The Diary of Anne Frank. Silence.
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Genitals and Giggles

From the mouths of babesthe greatest truths are spoken. A fellow bookseller, who I nicknamed, the Statue, was chained to the registers for the rest of his shift on a fall day a few years ago. He hated the registers because you cant leave when you are the only one scheduled there. Imagine standing in the same place for eight hours a day, five days a week, from now until the end of time. Hence, the nickname. When I looked at him, he was always standing in the same place, in same position everyday over the next years. Generally, nothing fazed him. He was polite to every customer at the register and whenever children came up to the registers, he smiled and made funny faces to make them laugh. He came from a large family and there were always little cousins running around his house so he didnt fear children like the rest of us. To us, they were mostly screaming brats that we tried to avoid at all costs. Their hands were always sticky, noses were always runny, and they always trashed the place. A thin brunette in her late-twenties rolled a baby carriage up to his register with a three year old boy in tow. The boy was wearing a red sox windbreaker with a matching baseball cap. The mother placed a few books on the counter, self help books for single mothers and a few childrens books. The Statue broke from his pose and noticed the book The Giving Tree on his counter. Is this for you? He asked the boy. Yup, the boy said and nodded his head.
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Are you going to read this yourself of is Mommy going to read it to you? He asked. Mommy, I cant read yet, the boy innocently replied. Well, this is one of my favorite books. I hope you like it, he said as he put the book in a bag. He handed the receipt and the bag to the mother and she turned the carriage to leave. The boy stayed and stared at him as his mother walked away. Whats up, little guy? He said. I cant show you, but I have a penis, the boy said proudly then ran after his mother. Welcome to the club, he laughed. From the mouths of babesthe greatest truths are spoken.

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Hopeless in a Hurricane

Saturdays are generally busy in the bookstore. It is a day of rest for the normal 9 to 5 workers who seek refuge from their jobs in a new book. It is also a day when parents dont want to pay someone to watch their children so they unclasp the leashes and let kid run wild. One particular Saturday was different because of two things: Hurricane Irene and Summer Reading. While most parents come in with their children for their school books in late July, a majority wait until a week, or even days, before classes start. It might be cruel, but I love to tell the last-minutemommies that their childs book is sold out. I like to see the look on their face, complete shock and a mixture of anger. With a dash of hostility, they are off running their mouths asking why the book is not in stock. Now, this is the sweet part, the crme de la crme; I smile and say Im sorry, we have had our summer reading out for the last four months and since there are only a few days left until school starts, we are running very thin. Most students came in early. Mmmm Mmmm, sweeter than honey. The mothers usually bite back with, Well I wish I knew it wasnt here before I dragged myself into traffic. I smile again, sweetly, and pass them a business card, You can always call ahead to see if we have it in stock and if we can hold it for you. We can also order it. It is when they let out a heavy sigh that I suppress a giggle because this is the moment where they ask if there is anything else they can do to get the book. I apologize, suggest ordering it, and have them explain to the teacher that their
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child was unable to get the book in time . because those few months were just not enough. This conversation happens at least 20 times a day or more as school begins. Hurricane Irene sent in these last-minute-mommies AND those who sought to get their shopping done before we became oceanfront property. Mix that with a full moon and the bookstore starts to take a turn for the worst. People forget authors names and the titles of books that they are looking for. Only a blurry picture stands out in their mind of what the cover looks like but the picture they describe is just an inkblot to us, different interpretations. The rain starts to come down and everyone storms the registers because they know if the lights go out they cant buy their books. So there are 15 or more people in line with only one cashier, we all run up to help but then the phones start to ring. What are your hours? I hate this question because there is an automated message that tells the hours of operation before the phone even rings in the shore. I am tempted to say, call back and listen to the automated message before hanging up but I refrain. I couldnt leave on time because we had a call out and the store was still packed as if we were selling bottled water and canned food before an impending apocalypse. I saw my scheduled end time pass by until, finally, the crowd dwindled. I knew it was only the eye of the storm; it would only take one lightning bolt and a loud boom of thunder to drive people off the highway and seek shelter in the bookstore. Freedom, I could almost taste it. The day didnt go that bad, I dealt with the same questions and the same situations that I have been for years. But there is always one person one person who just throws you off completely. Excuse me, Miss. Are the writers and authors separated in the store? Because my daughter has this list and they are all names but there are two columns. So I think the authors are on the left and the writers are on the right. Is that right? I was speechless.

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About the Author

Kathleen Anne Casey has been a bookseller for over five years. She spends most of her time reading, writing, and critiquing. When not doing those things, she attempts to fulfill her imminent future as a spinster by knitting and collecting cats. Her book reviews and other retail stories can be read at shelflifeofabookseller.com

Shelf Life of a Bookseller