I left my job at the bookstore just over a year ago, after working there for three years and nine months. I started part-time and eventually moved up to full-time work as the children's lead, which was simultaneously one of the best and most frustrating jobs I've ever had. There's nothing like seeing a kid become interested in books for the first time and knowing you played a part in that. Also, the annoying adults who cannot remember the title or author or basic plot of a book they heard about on Ellen six months ago (or maybe it was The View. One of them talk-show things) but somehow expect you to know and get downright snippy when you can't...in the children's department, they are parents who say things like, "I've got a ten-year-old boy that doesn't like to read. Can you come up with something that will work?" It's a challenge. It's rewarding. It's delightful.
But my particular experience was hampered by corporate mandates that discouraged thinking outside the box and a manager who managed to quash every ounce of creativity I managed to express. So I finally had enough and left to work in credit card collections, which sounds like it would be awful and really (really!) is not. It has its moments, to be sure, as does any job (particularly one that requires any level of dealing with the general public) but the pros far outweigh the cons. One of those benefits is VTO (Voluntary Time Off) in which the powers that be will permit you to leave early if it turns out they're not as busy as they anticipated. Which is how, Saturday afternoon, I found myself at a $3.99-for-all-used-books sale.
Here I would like to pause for just a moment to acknowledge my sisters, who aid and abet my book addiction. My youngest sister (the Jukebox), who has the burden of living with the library, is my frequent (albeit occasionally reluctant) accomplice. She has spent many hours assembling shelves, cataloging books, and listening to my unrepentant zeal on the topic with only the smallest amount of annoyance. My other sister professes not to understand why I NEED the books with me all the time, but then brings me a box of Sweet Valley High books from a garage sale and tells me about a new book website she found. (I haven't looked at it yet. I wanted to get this done first.) My sister-in-law just reintroduced me to an exciting and enticing world, which I will talk about in the next entry.
And at work, I have my friend the Activist (she's passionate about causes), who texted me Saturday to let me know about the sale. The Activist and her husband are book addicts too, which is always nice to find in friends. (Though Activist Husband did greet my appearance at the sale with, "If you are here to steal my books, I WILL CUT YOU." I think he was kidding. Mostly. Bibliophiles get very possessive sometimes.) Also, I assumed the Jukebox would not be happy about YET MORE BOOKS coming home with me, but her reaction could best be described as resignation ("I've resigned myself to the fact that there's no stopping you") and an order not to go crazy (which she defined as "buying more than ten books".)
I didn't. I bought four, one of which I already had, so I gave it to her. (And yes, I do have a list, and yes, I have it on my phone, but I had just doubled my shelf space and redone my categories so it wasn't up-to-date.) The other three were a collection of humorous essays, a volume to complete a series and this one.
I actually read this book when it came out, back in 2004. At the time, I was attracted both by the title and the portion of the book dedicated to my native Idaho (even if the candy bar in question, the Idaho Spud, has never appealed to me.) I was surprised this time around by the amount of introspection and life-evaluating to be had from a book about candy. It's also informative, amusing and occasionally profound.
Author: Steve Almond
Potentially objectionable content: Some language, coarse jokes and the author hates coconut, which is...weird.
No comments:
Post a Comment