Sara Crowley

Customer ( foreign, male, heavily accented voice) “Do you sell birthday cards?”
Me “Yes, just over there.” Gestures towards card racks.
A short time later.
Customer “Thank you.” He puts a card on the counter and holds up a pretty, pink bag.
“I have bought a present for my friends birthday, I show you.”
Me “OK.”
Customer “Look, look.” He pulls a box out of the bag. I can’t quite make out what he is showing me, then, ahh yes, it’s clearly a blow up doll.
Customer “Eh? Is nice? Eh? a ha ha ha ha, my friend will love this.”
Me “Great…”
Colleague doubles over with bewildered laughter.

Not the most exciting of blog headers but there you go.

Yesterday I rang a customer to inform her that the book she had ordered had now arrived and was available for collection. A man answered, I asked to speak to Mrs Whoever, he said “Can I ask who is calling please?” of course he can, I told him I was ringing from the bookshop and he called out;
“There’s some girl from the bookshop for you.”
Some girl! I dunno, not the most offensive thing ever, but I just can’t imagine him calling out that there was some boy on the line had one of my male colleagues called.

That wasn’t the manners bit actually, that was just an observation that we react in the way that we do according to who we are reacting to. Not sure if that makes sense so it’ll just get to the point.
A woman came up to the counter. I was wearing a very vivid pink and purple striped top with a turquoise skull in the middle ( I know! It’s gorge.)
She said “Why the skull?”
I said “Because I like it.” Now I know that wasn’t the friendliest of replies, but there was something about her.
She said “Is it saying danger to all who look at your chest?”
I smiled. I bagged her purchase and took her money.
“I am staring at your breasts.” she said.
Oh!
I was stumped for a response. She was a grey haired lady in her late 50’s/early 60’s. Had she been a bloke I’d have probably been massively pissed off, as it was, I remained speechless as she picked up her bag and left.

A father and daughter came in to pick up the specialist academic book that he had ordered on her behalf. He had paid in advance, as is customary, and it cost £80, which obviously is a lot of money. She had a look at the text book and pondered whether it was really the one she wanted. He explained that the one she requested is out of print so this was the updated one, the 12th edition. She complained that it appeared to have less in it than the one she had seen. He said that even if she found one page of it useful he wanted her to have it. He told her not to worry about the money. She still hesitated.
I understand, it was a lot of money, it was important for her study that she get the right book. I searched on-line for other books, this was the only one on her specialist subject. She wasn’t sure. Fine, she needed to be sure. She spent half an hour deciding. In this half hour she examined page after page of the book whilst hunched over my counter. All other customers had to lift their books over her head to get them to me. I said excuse me, and I’m sorry, and could you? many times, and she just looked at me, all distracted and would move perhaps an inch over, and then turn more pages and repeat that she just wasn’t sure. Her father proudly smiling at me. Sheez. She took the book in the end. No manners at all, just wrapped up in her own cocoon of importance.

In the paper a journalist states that an independent bookshop (X) is a successful example of a good bookshop, and goes on to complain that a chain book store (Y) will be dumbing down and culling its already limited stock further to make way for more chick lit and sleb biogs. She says
“When a bookshop works, there is really nothing quite like it – and X works. As an independent, it cannot compete with the big chains on advertising or discounts. So it has come up with other, more subtle strategies to bring in customers. Its staff, for instance, are passionate and knowledgeable.”
And of course that implies that Y’s staff are not. Yeah, yeah, I’m biased, but truly the booksellers I work with are all kinds of ace. Seriously, you have to care about books to sell them right, it’s not a get rich kinda job, it’s a choice made by full timer’s because they heart books. I am lucky that the branch I work in is full of quirky, non-mainstream delicious books, as well as the usual offers and current best sellers. Well it’d be pretty shit if we didn’t stock the popular stuff too eh? I am sure that the journalist can’t possibly be referring to a shop like ours when she bemoans
“If you’re the kind of person who walks into a bookshop hoping to stumble on as yet unknown treasures that you just won’t be able to resist buying, you’d better forget it.”
because that is exactly the kind of store that we are. It’s a pleasure to browse the store even as a bookseller. I only go in at the week end and there are always fab new titles, intriguing older books and so on. In addition to the stock we have we will order any book that is available for you, or you can order it on-line from our www address. No, all the books in the world do not fit under one roof. Whoo, surprise.
I did work in another shop a few years back that was originally staffed by cool individuals who had a mix of passion and knowledge that the manager was happy to reflect in the stock. Then the manager went to a bigger store, and the new manager was someone for whom books were just a commodity, and the job a stepping stone. The book loving staff left for other branches or new things, and the manager employed people she could easily manage. She didn’t have the confidence in her own abilities to employ sassy intelligent people who could challenge her. She employed drones who would memorise those best sellers, and yet not read any of the books and therefore not be able to comment on, or recommend. That’s an issue of mis-management, not a problem where I now am where the manager is an awesome woman.
I don’t know why I am even bothering to comment on this at all. There is no need for me to do so, nothing to gain from me sitting here on my little blog blathering about it, but I guess that really, it pisses me off that a journalist I like, with a huge readership, makes such a crappy statement in my favourite Sunday paper. And having passionate knowledgeable staff isn’t a subtle strategy for fucks sake, it’s the basic rule in book shops all over.

EDIT. I removed the journalist and books shop names, purely to stop someone at work from finding my blog by googling those words after having had a discussion with them today. It’s just a colleague, who I do like, but who I don’t wish to share my blog revelations with.