Customer: “I’m looking for a book… it’s rectangular.”

He then draws a perfect square in the air.

Customer: “You know, really rectangular.”

Customer: “I’m looking for a gardening book”

Me: “What’s the name, or author?”

Customer: “I don’t know, but I remember the cover is green.”

I worked for a bookstore in an affluent part of the country, and we had our share of entitled customers who thought we should stay open for their benefit. Our closing announcements were made fifteen minutes to close, five minutes to close, and at closing, but we still got several folks per night who were conveniently deaf to those announcements.

One night, I was working a closing shift after two days of a nasty cold. My throat was still sore and my voice was raspy, and my manager had kept me in the back doing stuff that did not require me to speak much. At 9:45 pm, fifteen minutes before closing, he buzzed the back room.

Me: “Yes?”

Manager: “Hey, how’s the throat?”

Me: “Ready for a cup of hot tea. Why?”

Manager: “Would you like to do the closing announcements tonight? I’m out of patience with people.”

Me: “With pleasure.”

I switched over to the store speakers and deliberately lowered my voice down to the deepest, most gravelly register my throat could manage.

Me: “Good evening. Please be advised that the store will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please bring your items to the front for purchase.” *Beat* “NOW. Thank you.”

Five minutes later, the manager buzzed again, trying not to laugh.

Manager: “Please do that again for the last two announcements. People were running to the registers.”

I did so. When I emerged from the back room five minutes after we had officially closed, there was no one but the staff in the store, and the manager handed me a hot cup of tea from the cafe.

My manager is taking me through some training on my first day. A customer approaches us and slams a book on the counter. It’s a children’s illustrated Bible.

Customer: “How can you sell this?! It’s full of lies!”

Manager: “Ma’am, we sell books on all religions and—”

Customer: “But look at it! Look at it!”

She is pointing to a painting in the book showing Jesus and his disciples. The image is more historically accurate than other depictions.

Customer: “Jesus is Black!”

Manager: “Well, he’s Middle Eastern, which—”

Customer: “Jesus was American!”

Manager: “Uh, I don’t think that’s true, ma’am.”

Customer: “I’m going to talk to my church about your store!”

She storms out, and the manager turns to me.

Manager: “Welcome to retail!”

Me: “Oh, that’s nothing. I drew a Biblically accurate angel in a Sunday school class once and my teacher suggested I get therapy.”

Back in the 1990s I am working in a small bookstore. I am friends with the owner, who is the kind of person who totally approves with what I am about to do.

We get this group of very old ladies who come in to buy their weekly harlequin romance books (prolifically published cheaper paperbacks, usually around $5-7 each).

They start to count change between them; it’s obvious they’re all on fixed incomes.

Old Lady #1: “You get [Book #1], dear, and I’ll get [Book #2]. Then we can swap when we’re done!”

Old Lady #3: “I’m ten cents short this week; do you think you might have some leftover when you’re done?”

Old Lady #4: “Oh, I’m also short this week! I think I’ll just borrow [Book #2] from [Old Lady #1] when she is done.

They bring the books up to the front, along with the shared change. I put my finger over the barcode, so the scanner doesn’t work straight away.

Me: “Hmm, it doesn’t seem to want to scan. I’ll have to key it in manually.”

I keyed it in manually… at half the price. This came as a very pleasant surprise for the ladies, who were then able to buy their one book each.

I became a happy sponsor of their weekly romance book club!