When I find myself in times of trouble Paul McCartney comes to me, singing words of wisdom, "let it be".
For the longest time i thought that song endorsed a kind of cowardly approach to the world, if you don't like something, leave it alone. I translated let it be, to mean something the same way that my mother meant it when i had a scab on my elbow from going head first over my bike handles and sliding 5 or 6 feet down the pavement."Cory, don't pick at it, let it be!". But i had missed the meaning completely for years. He wasn't saying...or maybe he was, far be it for me to climb into the mind of a Knight of the realm, but i came to accept a meaning for the song thats a bit more Buddhist in its leanings. What that song now means to me, is let it BE. Let it exist. Let it happen and just observe it, be mindful of it, and aware of it but let it happen. It is, as the kids are saying these days, what it is.
When you do that, when you step out of something you begin to see things you missed. Forest for the trees and all that. Today, Paul McCartney came to me, and I'm not going to say everything is better, but I may have found a method for dealing, and I'm seeing things more as they are not as they make me feel.
Okay, well as mature and thoughtful as that sounds, of course it comes with some caveats. I don't mean about the liquidation. I'm still a hot fucking mess about that. I mean about me. About my future and my world.
I'm bout to lay some personal shit on ya. So...you know, nows a good time to get snacks if you don't care.
So Melancholy was a feeling I think I first experienced the other day. I was sitting in my house on my day off pondering my future. 2 of my housemates are moving out around the end of September, now when most people say housemate they mean random craigslist people that share their bills. I don't. I mean family. People I love being around and having around, who now, sadly, need to move on. This shifts my home paradigm and my financial paradigm significantly. Fortunately I have someone waiting in the wings who will be an excellent housemate, but still major change is something once upon a time I thrived on, but it seems as if my propensity to deal with it varies proportionally to the amount of grays in my hair. And I can't pretend like financially this a great thing for me. It just isn't. Also, you guys may have heard, Borders is going out of business. I know it surprised me too. So the end of September is going to be the beginning of a very hard time for me.
Cue the people around you who try to help with words. As the song says, "when all your friends and sedatives try hard, but make it worse." (sorry, not Let it be by the Beatles, a different song entirely). Theres nothing you can say to make this better. And trying just makes me feel like a bigger jerk for getting angry at people for not being able to do anything to make it better. So then I just get more angry at myself for being angry, and so on. There is no way this downward spiral ends well. It's already caused my eating habits to become more in keeping with an army of 12 year old boys stranded in a mall during a zombie invasion. It aint good. I haven't cooked a meal for myself since....20% off?
This of course, brings you to the inevitable "where did i go wrong" conversation. The one where you question every major, and minor, decision you've made since they became your decisions to make. Which of course brings with it regrets at a Victor-Frankensteinian level. And then there is the fact that I live in an area populated with people I adore, but I don't feel a sense of home in. I am a nerd-at-large. I am a New English ex-pat. I am an Alien in New Jersey. I've never been at home here, and i've lived here almost as much as i've lived anywhere except my home town. So right now, I miss my hometown dearly. So of course that leads to Internet searches of apartments in my home town. All of which are fruitless because being a home owner ties me to this geography for the time being.
Okay, so melancholy...you're all caught up.
So while I've been adrift on the lugubrious sea I've missed a couple of things.
I have had some of the best times working with anyone in the last 3 weeks. I've spent more time socially with my co-workers. I've been able to say what I'm really thinking to staff members and customers. I haven't had to look up and look for a single copy of an arcane computer book that probably was in the wrong spot. I haven't looked at an inventory number of 9 and only been able to find 1. I haven't had to make a Javanilla shake since mid-july.
Professionally it may not be that dire. I know this because no fewer than 3 cafe owners have asked me for interviews after chatting with me in the last 2 days. I have an interview this week upcoming with one. I've also applied to be a cafe supervisor for a major GROWING chain of grocery stores because one of my former employees who has the inside scoop gave me the info (thanks btw).And another great friend of mine is constantly looking out for me and may have found something within her company that I'd be good for. I've been saying for weeks that the only thing I know for sure is that in September I'll be losing my job. Okay, thats still true, and I'm unwilling to make decisions based on my prospects, but the direction of all professional things unrelated to borders, seems to be moving toward the happy.
And then there is this blog. I'm writing. Every day. People are reading it. People seem to like it. I created a space where I can channel my own, and others if I'm any judge of the response at all, feelings into a creative mechanism that gives voice to the people drowning in the liquid of liquidation. Also, I'm Writing! I mean, this is huge for me. So much of my life i've spent telling people "I want to be a writer" then feeling like an asshole because immediately my mind thinks "well writers write, and you don't, so feh!". I mean, I did write perhaps more than most, but not as much as I should have, certainly not every day. Hell I would go 6 months or more and realize I hadn't written any thing other than a daily schedule or my name. So this violent firestorm of bankruptcy has left at least one scorched bit of earth with some green shoots. I truly can't say enough how much it means to me to do this, and to be read, and to see the commentariat respond, and to have people sign up to follow. I'm only 4 away from 100, btw. Share this if you want.
Another thing that letting it be let me see. The loris is a pretty remarkable human being. I'm not saying i like her (but i kind of do) I'm not going into details of her personal life, but she is one hard as tacks lady, and I wish she had worked for Borders instead of the liquidators for all these years. There is clearly something bizarre about someone who is willing to do this for a living. They have an ability to compartmentalize that I can't even begin to imagine. They must be lonely. And for her, well...this line of work has way more Vipers than it does Lorises. She is a hard worker like Sally-field-I-have-to-prove-myself-in-a-man's-world-movie kind of hard. She is out there rolling up her sleeves and she has eyes like a cyborg hawk. She misses nothing. She does her job as hard as she can, and she expects that from us as well, which is a shame. Shes far too earnest in an ironic job. These things make her a formidable adversary, and as much as I hate to admit it, they also make me admire her a little. And yeah, I said adversary. She's an opponent in a game i've already lost. I get that.
So while I'm still roiling with rage at this whole thing in every conceivable way, I'm stepping back for now. Call it a survival technique. Perhaps it's a documentarians sensibility. But whatever it is the pressure I felt sitting on my heart was a little lifted today. And for the first time in weeks not only can I see the forest, but I can admire the trees.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Day 24
Alpha Centaurian Ellipses Cycle, 290,421,288.11
Chief Archaeological officer BRRRRRRRRZT of the Vaaxi Republic resource vessel "Elvis Costello" watches with confusion as he tries to sort out the security video record of strange commerce rituals of early 280 millionth ellipses cycles denizens of the Planet fragment called Shmong, local name, earth.
"it seems" he sneezes pensively into his germcorder "that these creatures, locally called "humans" purchase things that once comprised a commerce center, as that commerce center declines. They call it "selling fixtures" but I'm having difficulty making out precisely what they are doing, I'm going to try applying a text to speech widget." BRRRRRRRRRZT licks a few nodules on his apple i-squid and a small box appears around the mouths of the otherwise silent video stars. Soon words begin scrolling into view, but this only perplexes the poor Chief Archaeological Officer futher.
He watches the long line of people stretching through what appears to be a "cafe" and walking up to a "register" presumably to make their purchase. Each person in line makes a purchase with the male "human" and then the female "human" marks each item that was paid for, appropriately.
"Apparently this is referred to by the people of shmong as first come/ first serve it appears to be a frequently observed custom as the participants seemed to largely organically organize themselves into the line and comprehend what was happening with little or no prompting form the representatives of the commerce center"
BRRRRRRRRZT turns the chromatophores beneath his ears a violent shade of fuscia, the vaaxi expression that indicates confusion. and as any citizen of the republic will tell you a vexed vaaxi is a thing to avoid.
"One of the humans 4 groups back, appears to be denying a human the item he just purchased" He germcords.
{what appears next is the exact transcript of the incident}
"No sir, it's first come first serve, that chair belongs to this man." (human male identified as "cory who will alphabetize for food" via ident medallion)
"No it is not, i was here the second the door opened and i claimed these 2 chairs he cannot have one of them."
"This is what first come/first serve means sir, so I'm afraid he is getting that chair."
"Thats not happening."
"It IS happening sir, thats how first come/first serve works."
"Nobody told ME it was going to be like this."
"Thats just not true, we told every one standing in this line that it will be first come first serve, stand in line, pay for your item, then they will be marked paid and you can have them. It's how it's done."
"Well then i'm taking this guys chair!" {points to human in line behind him}
"i'm not getting a chair"
"You get my point, you're going to have lots of angry people here!"
"Sir, i'm not because we told everyone it would be first come first serve."
"Thats not happening, i'm taking this chair."
"NO SIR, YOU ARE NOT! I AM THE AUTHORITY IN THIS MATTER and I ASSURE YOU YOU ARE NOT GETTING THAT CHAIR, THIS GENTLEMAN WHO STOOD IN LINE AND PAID FOR IT IS."
"OH WELL YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE A LOT OF ANGRY PEOPLE HERE, WHO THINKS THIS IS FAIR, DO YOU ALL THINK HE SHOULD GET TO BUY THE CHAIR???"
general mumbles from the crowd indicate agreement with "Cory who will alphabetize for food" and no support for the angry chair man. apparently humans take their "first come/first serve" custom very seriously.
"SIR, YOU ARE NOT LISTENING, I DON'T CARE WHAT THE CROWD THINkS, THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRATIC SITUATION, I MAKE THE RULES, I DETERMINED IT WOULD BE FIRST COME FIRST SERVE, AND WE TOLD EVERYONE THAT IN THEIR INITIAL PHONE CALL. GET ANGRY AT ME ALL YOU WANT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU GET ANY CHAIRS."
"Fine." Man sits down in chair. Female human goes around counter and stickers it for the person at the register. Person at the register thanks "Cory who will alphabetize for food" for sticking up for his merchandise.
{transcript ends}
"Some Shmongoids just don't get it."BRRRRRRRRZT says as he packs up the case file with a few other things including evidence of something called a "blog" He snortles with laughter as he reads the end of entry that details this specific event and "Cory who will alphabetize for food's" feelings on it.
{blog transcript follows}
I don't even recognize my job anymore. There is nothing left of what it once was. I am officially now totally confused, and what was a job I adored is now simply an opportunity to be yelled at by greedy cheap carrion feeders. My staff is running about, practically using a spirt level, to make sure paper signs that say "30% off" are hung exactly level. We have a dozen skids of merchandise in our warehouse and the whole staff, except for me and {name translates as $$$} are busy putting signs up just to be asked "whats the discount on this anyway". We're going into Friday with a warehouse full of inventory. Whose the braniac who thought this up?
The loris smiles, but never is saying anything nice. Even while eating in the break room she mentions packing the whole thing up and selling it eventually. The store is just a series of garish displays of crap crap and more crap, with a few books sprinkled in to give it legitimacy. I don't think i saw a single bookseller smile today.
The beginning was hard, but this...this is something wholly unexpected. I sold a doorknob today. A doorknob. A man tried to dicker with me because of the price of something and said "it's used..." as an excuse to get it more cheaply. "I know, thats why it's only 45 dollars and not 100." I watched strangers pick up and pack into their cars the physical bits of my cafe, admittedly a cafe i didn't love, but it was mine. Now the ants are marching carrying bits of it,like chewed up leaves,on their backs.
And that guy who yelled at me. Over a chair? He could have bought it more cheaply at an Ikea. Which ultimately he decided when i told him i'd sell him one for 175 bucks. "oh thats ridiculous i'll buy it new" yup. okay. please do. He didn't just yell at me, i yelled back. I don't yell. I was shaking i was so angry. Poor {name translates as $$$} looked so concerned. That guy had plenty of money. He could have easily bought one somewhere new. But it was so important he get this super cheap deal of a lifetime that he would eschew centuries of tradition and common sense to think that "first come first serve" only applies to everyone else. He's very important, you see. He gets what he wants in life. Well, not today.
Even aliens from the distant future could realize that working in a bookstore shouldn't mean having to get into shouting matches about anything! And even those aliens from the distant future could tell that guy was an asshole.
{blog transcript ends}
Chief Archaeological officer BRRRRRRRRZT of the Vaaxi Republic resource vessel "Elvis Costello" watches with confusion as he tries to sort out the security video record of strange commerce rituals of early 280 millionth ellipses cycles denizens of the Planet fragment called Shmong, local name, earth.
"it seems" he sneezes pensively into his germcorder "that these creatures, locally called "humans" purchase things that once comprised a commerce center, as that commerce center declines. They call it "selling fixtures" but I'm having difficulty making out precisely what they are doing, I'm going to try applying a text to speech widget." BRRRRRRRRRZT licks a few nodules on his apple i-squid and a small box appears around the mouths of the otherwise silent video stars. Soon words begin scrolling into view, but this only perplexes the poor Chief Archaeological Officer futher.
He watches the long line of people stretching through what appears to be a "cafe" and walking up to a "register" presumably to make their purchase. Each person in line makes a purchase with the male "human" and then the female "human" marks each item that was paid for, appropriately.
"Apparently this is referred to by the people of shmong as first come/ first serve it appears to be a frequently observed custom as the participants seemed to largely organically organize themselves into the line and comprehend what was happening with little or no prompting form the representatives of the commerce center"
BRRRRRRRRZT turns the chromatophores beneath his ears a violent shade of fuscia, the vaaxi expression that indicates confusion. and as any citizen of the republic will tell you a vexed vaaxi is a thing to avoid.
"One of the humans 4 groups back, appears to be denying a human the item he just purchased" He germcords.
{what appears next is the exact transcript of the incident}
"No sir, it's first come first serve, that chair belongs to this man." (human male identified as "cory who will alphabetize for food" via ident medallion)
"No it is not, i was here the second the door opened and i claimed these 2 chairs he cannot have one of them."
"This is what first come/first serve means sir, so I'm afraid he is getting that chair."
"Thats not happening."
"It IS happening sir, thats how first come/first serve works."
"Nobody told ME it was going to be like this."
"Thats just not true, we told every one standing in this line that it will be first come first serve, stand in line, pay for your item, then they will be marked paid and you can have them. It's how it's done."
"Well then i'm taking this guys chair!" {points to human in line behind him}
"i'm not getting a chair"
"You get my point, you're going to have lots of angry people here!"
"Sir, i'm not because we told everyone it would be first come first serve."
"Thats not happening, i'm taking this chair."
"NO SIR, YOU ARE NOT! I AM THE AUTHORITY IN THIS MATTER and I ASSURE YOU YOU ARE NOT GETTING THAT CHAIR, THIS GENTLEMAN WHO STOOD IN LINE AND PAID FOR IT IS."
"OH WELL YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE A LOT OF ANGRY PEOPLE HERE, WHO THINKS THIS IS FAIR, DO YOU ALL THINK HE SHOULD GET TO BUY THE CHAIR???"
general mumbles from the crowd indicate agreement with "Cory who will alphabetize for food" and no support for the angry chair man. apparently humans take their "first come/first serve" custom very seriously.
"SIR, YOU ARE NOT LISTENING, I DON'T CARE WHAT THE CROWD THINkS, THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRATIC SITUATION, I MAKE THE RULES, I DETERMINED IT WOULD BE FIRST COME FIRST SERVE, AND WE TOLD EVERYONE THAT IN THEIR INITIAL PHONE CALL. GET ANGRY AT ME ALL YOU WANT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU GET ANY CHAIRS."
"Fine." Man sits down in chair. Female human goes around counter and stickers it for the person at the register. Person at the register thanks "Cory who will alphabetize for food" for sticking up for his merchandise.
{transcript ends}
"Some Shmongoids just don't get it."BRRRRRRRRZT says as he packs up the case file with a few other things including evidence of something called a "blog" He snortles with laughter as he reads the end of entry that details this specific event and "Cory who will alphabetize for food's" feelings on it.
{blog transcript follows}
I don't even recognize my job anymore. There is nothing left of what it once was. I am officially now totally confused, and what was a job I adored is now simply an opportunity to be yelled at by greedy cheap carrion feeders. My staff is running about, practically using a spirt level, to make sure paper signs that say "30% off" are hung exactly level. We have a dozen skids of merchandise in our warehouse and the whole staff, except for me and {name translates as $$$} are busy putting signs up just to be asked "whats the discount on this anyway". We're going into Friday with a warehouse full of inventory. Whose the braniac who thought this up?
The loris smiles, but never is saying anything nice. Even while eating in the break room she mentions packing the whole thing up and selling it eventually. The store is just a series of garish displays of crap crap and more crap, with a few books sprinkled in to give it legitimacy. I don't think i saw a single bookseller smile today.
The beginning was hard, but this...this is something wholly unexpected. I sold a doorknob today. A doorknob. A man tried to dicker with me because of the price of something and said "it's used..." as an excuse to get it more cheaply. "I know, thats why it's only 45 dollars and not 100." I watched strangers pick up and pack into their cars the physical bits of my cafe, admittedly a cafe i didn't love, but it was mine. Now the ants are marching carrying bits of it,like chewed up leaves,on their backs.
And that guy who yelled at me. Over a chair? He could have bought it more cheaply at an Ikea. Which ultimately he decided when i told him i'd sell him one for 175 bucks. "oh thats ridiculous i'll buy it new" yup. okay. please do. He didn't just yell at me, i yelled back. I don't yell. I was shaking i was so angry. Poor {name translates as $$$} looked so concerned. That guy had plenty of money. He could have easily bought one somewhere new. But it was so important he get this super cheap deal of a lifetime that he would eschew centuries of tradition and common sense to think that "first come first serve" only applies to everyone else. He's very important, you see. He gets what he wants in life. Well, not today.
Even aliens from the distant future could realize that working in a bookstore shouldn't mean having to get into shouting matches about anything! And even those aliens from the distant future could tell that guy was an asshole.
{blog transcript ends}
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Day 23
Day off. Writing work shop with breezy, went well. The Spirit award he wins will be dedicated to my ex wife.
Going to watch Eureka now and mentally prepare for tomorrow. My first day of selling fixtures. From 8 am to 7 pm. If i have a brain left, it should make for some interesting stories.
oh by the way...check this out!
http://www.indiebound.org/ A fantastic website for independent book stores. You might find a better deal at amazon, but shopping at indies makes for better karma, and thats the best deal of all.
Going to watch Eureka now and mentally prepare for tomorrow. My first day of selling fixtures. From 8 am to 7 pm. If i have a brain left, it should make for some interesting stories.
oh by the way...check this out!
http://www.indiebound.org/ A fantastic website for independent book stores. You might find a better deal at amazon, but shopping at indies makes for better karma, and thats the best deal of all.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Day 22
The Loris: Main Attributes: Small, fuzzy, abso-freaking-lutely adorable, hangs about, eats a diet of fruits, small insects, gummibeary juice and Lembas bread. Defecates rainbows and happy dreams for children. Exudes a deadly toxin from elbows, though only deadly if you eat the Loris. It's bite causes Anaphylaxis in a many humans. See Also: Viper(replacement for).
I should begin by saying this is far, far, far, far far to the power of infinity more preferable than having the viper back in the building. He was creepy and menacing while being completely incapable of doing his job. However though we have replaced our venomous reptile with a cute and cuddly mammal, we should continue to be aware that the end of this interaction, we are dead either way.
This iteration of the liquidator has some things going for her. For starters she is a dead-eye shot with a display. We could have used these skills in our merchandising team for years. You know, back when we could merchandise with creativity. She's got that down. I don't impress easily in this arena being a crack shot merchandiser myself, but shes got skills that will make me not able to pay my bills, fo sheezy.
Also she is organized like a Union Rally. I am impressed. This lady knows whats what, and she is not shy about telling you something is wrong. She is up front and she seems to be honest. I'm not sure she's a great communicator, but unlike the viper, the Loris tells you stuff and seems, in the short term at least, to be consistent.
But there is this laugh or nervous giggle after everything she says, like...she knows something you don't know. A small mammalian chitter like she's seeing something you can't see. Its sweet and disconcerting. One of my co-workers compares her to adorable death eater Delores Umbridge, but i don't think thats quite there yet. I think she's kind of like...Alice's Queen of Hearts without the capriciousness. Yes, thats it. There seems to be a dare behind that giggle.
Like "so thats what i want you to do, tee hee, and if you don't... oh the mess I shall make with your innards! Isn't that right mr. Wuggles, oh mr wuggles gets so cross when you don't merchandise product properly it makes him just want to gnash on your brain with his teefy weefies. tra la la la! " {skips away leaving bloody footprints behind}
And as Stanley Kubrick as that may be, it's not the most distressing bit.
With all of it, the Organization, the creativity, the jocular blood lust, there is a potent note of ancient Rome throughout. She seems to me to be expecting that not only will you do things her way as she wants it, regardless of years of managment experience to the contrary, but you will be Enthusiastic about it. We are all Hop-frog to her unnamed king. We should dance and we should joke to her liking, and we should enjoy it...for if we don't {draws finger across throat indicating death, or a really wide throat}.
Whilst doing my best to rally for the upcoming fixture sale I took a moment to comment on a display she was making, and also use it as an opportunity to discuss her background, which i'm curious about.
"you must have some back ground in merchandising, because this is a really clever display" says i.
"I've been blah blah blah blah 14 years blah blah etc" says she. Her mind bent toward continuance (just began re-reading Rebecca, I love that book, bear with me) she declares "I'm doing this so that hopefully you all will see it and it will get your creative juices flowing."
Okay first of all, ick. I hate that expression. Secondly, really? Really. You honestly expect us to see your handiwork combining the near-litter downcycled driftwood you've pulled into the store with our things that enrich your life and blind people with the lightbulb that goes off in our head? Honestly? You seem really smart, i can't believe you're this naive...oh...right you're not. Because of the giggle. You see the giggle is polite punctuation that says This is how i expect it, don't want to do it my way...off with your head.
And then there are the announcements. This isn't first hand i'm afraid, but it seems she wants us to make over head announcements to the effect of the great deals you can get in the store. Like those strange canned people at macy's say during the holiday season. She wants us to get on the pa system and say things like "Wow, you got that yoga mat for 25% off?"
"I sure did, and got some great fake Nautica Cologne/Dioxin weapon for less than 10 bucks. And also Anna Karenina!"
Apparently this impacts sales. Ladies and Gentleman, this research brought to you by DARPA and the MK Ultra program. She wants us to practically sing a happy tune about the demise of a beloved company. Or else. Ancient Rome.
I have an almost endless font of respect for tough as nails women from my mom to Ellen Ripley. One of the greatest people i've ever known was my GM from my Suburban CT store. I learned so much from her, and the one thing I remember learning from watching, instead of from the endless hours she spent schooling me on how I wasn't as clever as I thought I was, was that sometimes you draw a line. And in what has become trite borders speak, I'm sure, "you choose what hill you're going to die on." And that, is just that. Its you, or it's them, and it damn sure isn't going to be you. Seeing her move through the store, all leggings and tunic and afrocentric beads Her enormous eyeglasses filled with dilated pupil, to confront a customer who was mistreating one of HER bookseller was a thing of terrifying beauty. It was rare and it was powerful. But with the Loris I sense a long fought history. I sense a person who has put up with enough shit for 10 people and isn't having it any more. I respect the hell out of this, I hope this is the Loris I see more of. But I also get the impression she has in her mind that This is the hill we are all going to die on, we can die later by fighting the fight her way and learning to like it, or we can die now and just be done with it.
I'm inspired by the words of an old New England Doctor, to poetry:
Yes, I am the Loris who speaks for the greed, and you are not shopping as fast as I please.
I'm also in charge of these book seller folks, who played in the shade in their Bookseller suits, and happily lived shelving this book and that.
Now, thanks to your shopping ( your greed knows no bounds!) These Booksellers seem to be just waiting around.
I do see your point...are these pigs discounted too?
Yes of course they are sir, buy one in in pink and in blue!
Out of kindness you ask, what will they do?
Well they loved living here, but I can't let them stay. They'll have to find jobs, I hope that they may.
Truly a sadness, bookstores are no more, But at this discount prices why buy one pig, I'll buy four!
I am the Loris I speak for the greed, as long as my paycheck is fattened, that is my creed.
I'm cute and I'm kind I might seem a good pet, but a liquidator I am, lest you forget.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Day 21
Little by little this store becomes something wholly new as it absorbs product and reshapes itself. The grotesque cracking and reshifting of it's bones is a noise so common it's become white. It seems like its flailing tendrils are reaching out to the dark underbelly of container ship purchases and bringing back heinous randomness that it assimilates into it's body. Resistance is futile, your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own, we will assimilate your dollar store.
There is so much about this process that is counter-emotional. We are doing well, so we get the ridiculous crap that some person from season 2 of the wire smuggled past the longshoreman? It seems to me if we're doing well we should be spared this indignation. Why punish us for doing well? Why not make some store where nobody buys books even at 25 to 50% off have to contend with this ... Stuff. I mean I've sold some weird things at borders over the years, rubber chickens that crap out weird eggs come to mind. But the fact that this stuff isn't some effort to keep us from imploding under our own ideas, just makes it so...unseemly.
Let me explain why this to me seems like punnishment. There is, what i think is, an unfair sterotype about booksellers. That we are snobby. I've heard a thousand stories about "oh i went in here and they looked at me with the hairy eyeball because i was buying Twilight" or "So my friend blahblahblah is a bookseller and she gets so worked up whenever people buy the Oprah Books..." I'm bout to lay this shit down for ya, so you listening?
We give a shit! I know, awful, right. I know if i went into a hardware store and i went to buy some drywall anchors and i grabbed the pretty blue package because...well everyone else seems to be buying the pretty blue package, i want someone with some level of expertise to say- "you should probably get the ugly orange package, you get more and they last longer, and they have a metal spring back mechanism instead of a plastic one so fewer will screw up (pardon the pun)!" I want that out of a professional. Remember that, professionalism? Now just because you like stories about sparkling unattainable sex weirdoes and the nerdy girls who try to kill themselves for their attention, doesn't mean that what you like and what is GOOD are the same thing. Just because Oprah likes a books, doesn't mean you will, don't read it because she tells you to, read it because it intrigues you! That...is what goes on in the mind of many a bookseller when you ask for directions to certain books or worse, scorn us when they aren't in the precise spot YOU think they should be.
That bookseller, is also the minority. By a lot. Most of us like reading just as much ridiculous nonsense as you do. Most of us think Oprah has pretty good taste. If you walk into a Borders and can't find a bookseller who nerded out during midnight releases of Breaking Dawn, then you aren't looking very hard. Books are many things to many people, but my job as a bookseller is to take you from Twilight over to ... i don't know...Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier or Wuthering Heights. Its to sell you the candy but to introduce how delicious vegetables can be as well. I was hired because i know a thing or two about a book or two. You see most of us care about the written word enough to make it our livelihood. Just like, one hopes, a person who works at a lumber yard cares enough about good quality construction to make it theirs. You aren't being judged, you're being welcomed into a whole new world that you just haven't been told about yet by your friends. It's not that we're snobby, its that we care about the art of writing (or music, or coffee...for that matter)
I bring this up, because it's not that i think selling knock off perfume and pillow pets is especially beneath me, i don't want it to come off that way, it's just that i don't care about it. What i do care about is being ingested by the ridiculous flotsam of a culture consumed by consumption. So you see these weird barnacles, this viney growth thats clung to my beloved books and music is strangling the life out of it. That bothers me in a profound way. Hello wound, meet salt.
I should actually take this second to say that i think selling knock-off perfume and pillow pets is beneath pretty much everybody its just not especially beneath me. I don't understand why this is something we can sell and Oil! by Upton Sinclair isn't. I can't for a second comprehend why our society sees merits in neck pillows shaped like creatures whose form is so vague and nightmarish as to not be entirely discernible, but doesn't see the merits in Getting Things Done by David Allen. I don't like the fact that "Bamberry, our impression of Burberry" is more worth 12.99 than a copy Oryx and Crake was. I loathe the fact that we live in a culture where people are going to spend more money on a ceramic pig that looks like it has some bizzarre form of measles than they would at Target, but heaven forefend they should ever do that for The Hunger Games or The Help. I detest the idea that a place where you can explore, create, learn, listen, and enjoy all without ever getting up from your table and stack of books in the cafe has less value than a garishly signed temporary edifice to cheap crap and bogus scents that just happens to be on a progressive discount program. It infuriates me that this is where we are. I care so much about this stuff that watching it corrode and mutate is infecting me.
I know one day not too far from now, I'll be sitting in the center of our store, a single unbought library cart, a pack of staples, a lonely copy of Antigone sitting with me. I know the next day, i will turn the lock forever and look into an empty building that once help entertainment, knowledge, wisdom, and foolishness, sympathy and hate, music and silence. I know on that day the last thing I'll be thinking about is the social ramifications of all of this. I'll just be thinking about the people i will miss. But today, i am truly asking myself is commerce like democracy? Do we get the kind that we deserve?
Do we deserve overpriced spotty pigs and fake fragrances?
I hope not.
There is so much about this process that is counter-emotional. We are doing well, so we get the ridiculous crap that some person from season 2 of the wire smuggled past the longshoreman? It seems to me if we're doing well we should be spared this indignation. Why punish us for doing well? Why not make some store where nobody buys books even at 25 to 50% off have to contend with this ... Stuff. I mean I've sold some weird things at borders over the years, rubber chickens that crap out weird eggs come to mind. But the fact that this stuff isn't some effort to keep us from imploding under our own ideas, just makes it so...unseemly.
Let me explain why this to me seems like punnishment. There is, what i think is, an unfair sterotype about booksellers. That we are snobby. I've heard a thousand stories about "oh i went in here and they looked at me with the hairy eyeball because i was buying Twilight" or "So my friend blahblahblah is a bookseller and she gets so worked up whenever people buy the Oprah Books..." I'm bout to lay this shit down for ya, so you listening?
We give a shit! I know, awful, right. I know if i went into a hardware store and i went to buy some drywall anchors and i grabbed the pretty blue package because...well everyone else seems to be buying the pretty blue package, i want someone with some level of expertise to say- "you should probably get the ugly orange package, you get more and they last longer, and they have a metal spring back mechanism instead of a plastic one so fewer will screw up (pardon the pun)!" I want that out of a professional. Remember that, professionalism? Now just because you like stories about sparkling unattainable sex weirdoes and the nerdy girls who try to kill themselves for their attention, doesn't mean that what you like and what is GOOD are the same thing. Just because Oprah likes a books, doesn't mean you will, don't read it because she tells you to, read it because it intrigues you! That...is what goes on in the mind of many a bookseller when you ask for directions to certain books or worse, scorn us when they aren't in the precise spot YOU think they should be.
That bookseller, is also the minority. By a lot. Most of us like reading just as much ridiculous nonsense as you do. Most of us think Oprah has pretty good taste. If you walk into a Borders and can't find a bookseller who nerded out during midnight releases of Breaking Dawn, then you aren't looking very hard. Books are many things to many people, but my job as a bookseller is to take you from Twilight over to ... i don't know...Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier or Wuthering Heights. Its to sell you the candy but to introduce how delicious vegetables can be as well. I was hired because i know a thing or two about a book or two. You see most of us care about the written word enough to make it our livelihood. Just like, one hopes, a person who works at a lumber yard cares enough about good quality construction to make it theirs. You aren't being judged, you're being welcomed into a whole new world that you just haven't been told about yet by your friends. It's not that we're snobby, its that we care about the art of writing (or music, or coffee...for that matter)
I bring this up, because it's not that i think selling knock off perfume and pillow pets is especially beneath me, i don't want it to come off that way, it's just that i don't care about it. What i do care about is being ingested by the ridiculous flotsam of a culture consumed by consumption. So you see these weird barnacles, this viney growth thats clung to my beloved books and music is strangling the life out of it. That bothers me in a profound way. Hello wound, meet salt.
I should actually take this second to say that i think selling knock-off perfume and pillow pets is beneath pretty much everybody its just not especially beneath me. I don't understand why this is something we can sell and Oil! by Upton Sinclair isn't. I can't for a second comprehend why our society sees merits in neck pillows shaped like creatures whose form is so vague and nightmarish as to not be entirely discernible, but doesn't see the merits in Getting Things Done by David Allen. I don't like the fact that "Bamberry, our impression of Burberry" is more worth 12.99 than a copy Oryx and Crake was. I loathe the fact that we live in a culture where people are going to spend more money on a ceramic pig that looks like it has some bizzarre form of measles than they would at Target, but heaven forefend they should ever do that for The Hunger Games or The Help. I detest the idea that a place where you can explore, create, learn, listen, and enjoy all without ever getting up from your table and stack of books in the cafe has less value than a garishly signed temporary edifice to cheap crap and bogus scents that just happens to be on a progressive discount program. It infuriates me that this is where we are. I care so much about this stuff that watching it corrode and mutate is infecting me.
I know one day not too far from now, I'll be sitting in the center of our store, a single unbought library cart, a pack of staples, a lonely copy of Antigone sitting with me. I know the next day, i will turn the lock forever and look into an empty building that once help entertainment, knowledge, wisdom, and foolishness, sympathy and hate, music and silence. I know on that day the last thing I'll be thinking about is the social ramifications of all of this. I'll just be thinking about the people i will miss. But today, i am truly asking myself is commerce like democracy? Do we get the kind that we deserve?
Do we deserve overpriced spotty pigs and fake fragrances?
I hope not.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Day 20
Today was my day off. The new liquidator started today, so far all commentary i've heard has been positive. I saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes. It was good.
Cadi says Hi.
Cadi says Hi.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Day 19
I can't tell if i'm conflicted, or ambivalent.
The viper left today, for good...well forever, i don't know if its good yet. I have suspicions as to why, but no real evidence, and I wouldn't discuss it in this format if i did. I'm open, but I'm still a professional. I've tried very hard to keep this space filled with info and insight but not with anything that could jeopordize myself legally or financially or anybody I work with. So...i'm not going forward with any conjecture either.
Suffice to say, he's gone, and i'm not sure how i feel about it.
On the one hand he was an incredibly difficult person to work with. He didn't listen to you, he didn't know anything about the book business, he didn't have any ideas...ever. He had no respect for the intellect or dignity of the staff. He constantly belittled people. He had no concept of the role he was playing in dismantling something...some place..we all clearly loved. He was ill prepared to deal with our unwillingness to be treated with no respect. I think he comes from a time or place or...mythical land, where he actually was more important than anybody else because he was the guy in charge. Nope, not gonna fly here, bucko. We are Borders...Look around you, do you see any transient teen workers or disengaged disrespected beat down by the system hangers on prepared to be brutalized by your passive aggressiveness and just be grateful all because you give them a job? NO you don't, because that is not how we roll.
On the other hand, he was the viper I knew, and I had finally worked out how to work with it. He had even mellowed out. This new woman, I don't KNOW anything about her, She seems very kind. She seems like she will treat us as professionals. She seems like...she could have worked for borders once before. And in fact she has closed other borders. But I don't care how soft the velvet is, i know whats under the glove. And i know at the end of the day, we're a paycheck to her. Nothing else. So now, i have to work this out.
See the funny thing about the viper is that, at least in my store where i'm not convinced anyone knows his actual name, the dual identity of his name(kindly old man from eastern europe in a GI JOE cartoon/ A cold hearted snake) had all but lost the GI Joe portion of his identity. It was an interesting evolution to observe. Initially people were ambivalent to him, as time went on people developed opinions on him, soon no one liked him, and eventually...poof...gone. That is natural selection if ever i've seen it.
Okay...i'm not ambivalent, i'm definitely conflicted. I am ever so glad to see him gone because of the atmosphere he poisoned. I'm happy, beyond happy. But i'm concerned about this new person, Now i have to come up with a new nick name.
While I have a minute, i'm going to take it to thank all of you for your support throughout this. I think keeping this blog has become a connection for me to the deeper, grander things, that make this process so difficult but also live as a resource of strength. Knowing that i'm not alone screaming into the wind takes the futility out of the effort. We are, all of us, caught up in the storm, and having a harbor...well you know. Ship metaphors aren't my strong suit.
Anyway, thank you. Thank you for your comments both on the blog, which i want to encourage more of, and thanks for the comments on facebook and for sharing this with over 12,000 people now.
I'm listening to Pandora and i have it set up to create a radio station based on my appreciation for the Indigo Girls (because my Marty Robbins, station was TOO depressing..ah well, mice and men you know how it goes) and The song "Rain King" by the Counting Crows came on. Its' one of my favorites, (so good job, Pandora),if a bit played out and trite by now. Also it's based on one of my favorite books ever. Obviously the chorus, although taken out of context, speaks the most clearly.
Don't try to bleed me,
because i've been here before,
and I deserve a Little more.
I belong in the service of the queen,
I belong anywhere but in-between.
Change the "I"s to "We"s and thats how I feel about all of the people I have had the honor to work with, and further those that this strange little dying company had the good sense to weave filaments of humor, intellect,curiousity and compassion through to connect us all. This process doesn't diminish us; We are mountainous and it stands in our shadow.
The viper left today, for good...well forever, i don't know if its good yet. I have suspicions as to why, but no real evidence, and I wouldn't discuss it in this format if i did. I'm open, but I'm still a professional. I've tried very hard to keep this space filled with info and insight but not with anything that could jeopordize myself legally or financially or anybody I work with. So...i'm not going forward with any conjecture either.
Suffice to say, he's gone, and i'm not sure how i feel about it.
On the one hand he was an incredibly difficult person to work with. He didn't listen to you, he didn't know anything about the book business, he didn't have any ideas...ever. He had no respect for the intellect or dignity of the staff. He constantly belittled people. He had no concept of the role he was playing in dismantling something...some place..we all clearly loved. He was ill prepared to deal with our unwillingness to be treated with no respect. I think he comes from a time or place or...mythical land, where he actually was more important than anybody else because he was the guy in charge. Nope, not gonna fly here, bucko. We are Borders...Look around you, do you see any transient teen workers or disengaged disrespected beat down by the system hangers on prepared to be brutalized by your passive aggressiveness and just be grateful all because you give them a job? NO you don't, because that is not how we roll.
On the other hand, he was the viper I knew, and I had finally worked out how to work with it. He had even mellowed out. This new woman, I don't KNOW anything about her, She seems very kind. She seems like she will treat us as professionals. She seems like...she could have worked for borders once before. And in fact she has closed other borders. But I don't care how soft the velvet is, i know whats under the glove. And i know at the end of the day, we're a paycheck to her. Nothing else. So now, i have to work this out.
See the funny thing about the viper is that, at least in my store where i'm not convinced anyone knows his actual name, the dual identity of his name(kindly old man from eastern europe in a GI JOE cartoon/ A cold hearted snake) had all but lost the GI Joe portion of his identity. It was an interesting evolution to observe. Initially people were ambivalent to him, as time went on people developed opinions on him, soon no one liked him, and eventually...poof...gone. That is natural selection if ever i've seen it.
Okay...i'm not ambivalent, i'm definitely conflicted. I am ever so glad to see him gone because of the atmosphere he poisoned. I'm happy, beyond happy. But i'm concerned about this new person, Now i have to come up with a new nick name.
While I have a minute, i'm going to take it to thank all of you for your support throughout this. I think keeping this blog has become a connection for me to the deeper, grander things, that make this process so difficult but also live as a resource of strength. Knowing that i'm not alone screaming into the wind takes the futility out of the effort. We are, all of us, caught up in the storm, and having a harbor...well you know. Ship metaphors aren't my strong suit.
Anyway, thank you. Thank you for your comments both on the blog, which i want to encourage more of, and thanks for the comments on facebook and for sharing this with over 12,000 people now.
I'm listening to Pandora and i have it set up to create a radio station based on my appreciation for the Indigo Girls (because my Marty Robbins, station was TOO depressing..ah well, mice and men you know how it goes) and The song "Rain King" by the Counting Crows came on. Its' one of my favorites, (so good job, Pandora),if a bit played out and trite by now. Also it's based on one of my favorite books ever. Obviously the chorus, although taken out of context, speaks the most clearly.
Don't try to bleed me,
because i've been here before,
and I deserve a Little more.
I belong in the service of the queen,
I belong anywhere but in-between.
Change the "I"s to "We"s and thats how I feel about all of the people I have had the honor to work with, and further those that this strange little dying company had the good sense to weave filaments of humor, intellect,curiousity and compassion through to connect us all. This process doesn't diminish us; We are mountainous and it stands in our shadow.
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