How Not To Sell Books, Vol. 1

On Wednesday, I went to school wearing soft, baggy jeans, a long-sleeved black top and a purple t-shirt over that. And purple feather earrings, but they're not as important. Strangely, when I got to school, Julie was also wearing jeans, a long-sleeved black top and a purple t-shirt. Not exactly the same t-shirt, but the whole ensemble was closely matched enough to warrant a second look. Today, someone came into the shop wearing - sigh - jeans, a black top with a purple t-shirt over it. I begin to wonder if I have unconsciously started a meme. Or, alternatively, fallen victim to one. Hmmm.

Talking of the shop, I worked five hours today and am tired, but so much less so than I was when waitressing that I'm basically sold on the retail thing. I can use a computer without difficulty (no kidding) but seem entirely incapable of using a till. Surely both consist of pressing buttons on a machine in the right order? Anyway, I am heartily sick of the error noise the till makes. Bleep. Bleep. You suck. Bleep. And it's worse with the customer staring at me like I'm an idiot. And I know the government are all about the chip 'n' pin, but I hate it 'cause I can't do it. Again, it's all a matter of pressing buttons in the right order. Gah.

But I do know about books, sometimes. And I can just about deal with customer orders, because the books people read stick out in my mind. An old lady with two walking sticks ambled through the door in the morning and asked, "Do you have a book for me?"

"What's it called?"

"Windows XP For Dummies," she said brightly, and said she'd take another one if I had it. It struck a chord. I've spent the last three days unsuccessfully trying to upgrade to XP. No luck so far. Sigh.

The next customer wanted The Da Vinci Code, the one after that, Chemical Engineering and Thermodynamics (£83.50!). Never a dull moment, clearly.

Then came the embarrassing part. I'm sure this sort of thing only happens to me. I was putting books on top of the shelves (there is so little space that books are quite literally stacked to the ceiling) with help of the stepladder, and when I was putting it away, I felt a sting on my hand but thought nothing of it. So far so hoopy.

Next, a woman came in with her son and bought Darren Shan books. There are about fifteen of them (eternalwings ought to know, she's read them all) and as far as I know, they're freaky and about vampires and various macabre goings-on. They're in the school library, too. Anyway, this woman bought lots of them - about forty quid's worth - for her scowling son, and I scanned them, bagged them and sold them. Done and dusted.

When they'd gone, I finally noticed the bag, my hand and what seemed like everything round about were covered in blood. Eek. Cue the door opening. "Can we have a new book because, well, you bled on it!"

Sigh. I resisted the temptation to point out the book is about vampires and sent Gary - who is sweet and doesn't let me get too stressed - to try and find another one, which he couldn't find. So we gave them a refund. And I sat on the floor in the back and carefully, resolutely, bled over everything. There is a chunk of my flesh stuck to the stepladder.

Would this happen to anybody else? No.

I am now going to shout at my iPod until it works. Wish me luck with that. And apparently I have to watch Stargate tonight, despite the fact I've been skipping all of season eight.

Yes. Scintillating life of me.

Stargate - Reckoning (ohmygod)

amchau, you were right. You were so right.

( Stargate 8x17 - Reckoning )

( this post also has some minor spoilers for Threads and Moebius )