Manic.
We'll see if the shakiness will allow me to give you a report of Friday night's big release party for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Any typos or misspellings can and will be blamed on my unsteady hands.
I already regretted signing up to work this event, but I didn't really regret it until I walked into the store and my fight-or-flight response kicked in. I've been in crowded places before, but for some reason the atmosphere in the store was terrifying to me. Maybe it was the people in costume, all of whom I absolutely refused to look in the eye.
There were owls, as promised, and they were actually really, really cool; one of them was an older bird, a dark-feathered owl with huge orange eyes that the handler had raised from an egg, while the other was younger, with white feathers and a black face. There were also fake Harry Potter glasses which made me wish I wore glasses, as I've totally mastered the Meaningful Glasses Remove, as perfected by Anthony Stewart Head on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Prior to being put on a register from 9:30 until the end of the night, I didn't actually have a whole lot to do other than work on the Meaningful Glasses Remove and tell people where to go to get the numbered wristbands that determined their place in line at midnight. Wandering around the store for a while, I was struck by the age-inappropriateness of the suggestively clad women that were posing for photos with terribly lonely guys who presumably couldn't make it to this weekend's San Diego Comic Convention (aka Nerd Prom). And how many of the young boys and girls who packed the store will develop schoolgirl fetishes as a result of the decision to dress up two of the more comely BN employees in academy attire?
The low point of this pre-register period was undoubtedly the Silly High School Girls. Eventually I was stationed outside the store to open the doors for people with strollers and answer questions. So I just propped the door open and leaned on it, taking in the sights. Several people annoyed the hell out of me by telling me some variant of "Well, don't you look excited," as if I'm supposed to be ecstatic about working at Barnes and Noble on probably the busiest day in the store's history. The Silly High School Girls started out as nothing more significant than that. One of them tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come on, Gregor1, it's Harry Potter day!! Get excited!!" I gave them the same fake smile that I give every customer that tries to be funny and assumed that'd be the end of it.
You probably already figured out that this was not in fact the end of it. Eventually they came back out and decided to just kick back in front of the store. They were all dressed up as I don't know what, magicians I guess. And they kept talking to me. The head Silly High School Girl offered to take my Saturday shift if I'd give her my special BN Harry Potter t-shirt. The whole thing was really excruciating and I just had to stand there and pretend I didn't want to snap their Silly High School Necks. Once I finally got to go back in the store, they passed by the info desk where I was stationed and said something to me, I forget what, as they went upstairs. Once again, fake smile, and once they were past I just put my head in my hands and shook it while my co-workers wondered aloud why a group of young girls had just called out to me. I looked up and realized that they were looking at me, i.e., they'd seen how I'd reacted once I thought they weren't looking. They didn't bother me again.
I don't know why I was put on a register two hours before the release of the book. It was intensely boring as nobody was buying anything. I just stood around making not-unpleasant small talk with a bunch of employees I don't know because they are cashiers and I work at information and never the twain shall meet. Once the book actually went on sale, though, everything became kind of a blur. First customer had pre-ordered a regular copy and a deluxe version. The deluxe versions hadn't been brought out yet so as we stood there waiting for them she repeated, over and over again like a mantra, "And one deluxe version. One deluxe version. Deluxe. Deluxe. Deluxe deluxe deluxe. Deluxe."
Most customers didn't stand out, though2, and I was able to reduce interaction with most of them to the absolute bare minimum: How many. $19.50. How many. $19.50. How many. $38.99. How many. $19.50. It was kind of nice, actually. There are always people who want to make small talk, though, and in particular there were several people who asked if I'd had a chance to read the book yet. The word "yet" was always in there, as if there did not exist the possibility that I wasn't interested in reading the book. I don't know what irritated me more: the presumption that because they are chomping at the bit to read this book I must also be, or the idea that I somehow had time to read the book while on cashiering on, again, probably the busiest night in the store's history. I'm near-frantically ringing these books up as the store manager stands at the head of the line barking orders to cashiers and customers alike, but in-between customer number 557 and 558 I managed to read a couple of chapters. Fuck you, next customer. How many. $19.50.
And that's it, really. The only other thing that stood out about my Harry Potter cashiering experience was the woman who came up to me brandishing her receipt with a pissed expression on her face. When I asked her what was up, she said, in a really unnecessarily rude tone, "You forgot to give me my books!"
I heard "book" so I gave her a copy. "I bought two," she said, so I gave her another and she stomped off. The idea that in having walked off without her books she might share the blame for what happened probably never occured to her.
My hands are still shaking.
1 Still not my real name, no.
2 I didn't mention this in the original entry, but there was a guy who was dressed as Albus Dumbledore and refused to break character even as he was buying a book in which, as it turns out, his character dies. He even signed the credit card slip "Albus Dumbledore." My dreams were awash in his blood that night.
I already regretted signing up to work this event, but I didn't really regret it until I walked into the store and my fight-or-flight response kicked in. I've been in crowded places before, but for some reason the atmosphere in the store was terrifying to me. Maybe it was the people in costume, all of whom I absolutely refused to look in the eye.
There were owls, as promised, and they were actually really, really cool; one of them was an older bird, a dark-feathered owl with huge orange eyes that the handler had raised from an egg, while the other was younger, with white feathers and a black face. There were also fake Harry Potter glasses which made me wish I wore glasses, as I've totally mastered the Meaningful Glasses Remove, as perfected by Anthony Stewart Head on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Prior to being put on a register from 9:30 until the end of the night, I didn't actually have a whole lot to do other than work on the Meaningful Glasses Remove and tell people where to go to get the numbered wristbands that determined their place in line at midnight. Wandering around the store for a while, I was struck by the age-inappropriateness of the suggestively clad women that were posing for photos with terribly lonely guys who presumably couldn't make it to this weekend's San Diego Comic Convention (aka Nerd Prom). And how many of the young boys and girls who packed the store will develop schoolgirl fetishes as a result of the decision to dress up two of the more comely BN employees in academy attire?
The low point of this pre-register period was undoubtedly the Silly High School Girls. Eventually I was stationed outside the store to open the doors for people with strollers and answer questions. So I just propped the door open and leaned on it, taking in the sights. Several people annoyed the hell out of me by telling me some variant of "Well, don't you look excited," as if I'm supposed to be ecstatic about working at Barnes and Noble on probably the busiest day in the store's history. The Silly High School Girls started out as nothing more significant than that. One of them tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come on, Gregor1, it's Harry Potter day!! Get excited!!" I gave them the same fake smile that I give every customer that tries to be funny and assumed that'd be the end of it.
You probably already figured out that this was not in fact the end of it. Eventually they came back out and decided to just kick back in front of the store. They were all dressed up as I don't know what, magicians I guess. And they kept talking to me. The head Silly High School Girl offered to take my Saturday shift if I'd give her my special BN Harry Potter t-shirt. The whole thing was really excruciating and I just had to stand there and pretend I didn't want to snap their Silly High School Necks. Once I finally got to go back in the store, they passed by the info desk where I was stationed and said something to me, I forget what, as they went upstairs. Once again, fake smile, and once they were past I just put my head in my hands and shook it while my co-workers wondered aloud why a group of young girls had just called out to me. I looked up and realized that they were looking at me, i.e., they'd seen how I'd reacted once I thought they weren't looking. They didn't bother me again.
I don't know why I was put on a register two hours before the release of the book. It was intensely boring as nobody was buying anything. I just stood around making not-unpleasant small talk with a bunch of employees I don't know because they are cashiers and I work at information and never the twain shall meet. Once the book actually went on sale, though, everything became kind of a blur. First customer had pre-ordered a regular copy and a deluxe version. The deluxe versions hadn't been brought out yet so as we stood there waiting for them she repeated, over and over again like a mantra, "And one deluxe version. One deluxe version. Deluxe. Deluxe. Deluxe deluxe deluxe. Deluxe."
Most customers didn't stand out, though2, and I was able to reduce interaction with most of them to the absolute bare minimum: How many. $19.50. How many. $19.50. How many. $38.99. How many. $19.50. It was kind of nice, actually. There are always people who want to make small talk, though, and in particular there were several people who asked if I'd had a chance to read the book yet. The word "yet" was always in there, as if there did not exist the possibility that I wasn't interested in reading the book. I don't know what irritated me more: the presumption that because they are chomping at the bit to read this book I must also be, or the idea that I somehow had time to read the book while on cashiering on, again, probably the busiest night in the store's history. I'm near-frantically ringing these books up as the store manager stands at the head of the line barking orders to cashiers and customers alike, but in-between customer number 557 and 558 I managed to read a couple of chapters. Fuck you, next customer. How many. $19.50.
And that's it, really. The only other thing that stood out about my Harry Potter cashiering experience was the woman who came up to me brandishing her receipt with a pissed expression on her face. When I asked her what was up, she said, in a really unnecessarily rude tone, "You forgot to give me my books!"
I heard "book" so I gave her a copy. "I bought two," she said, so I gave her another and she stomped off. The idea that in having walked off without her books she might share the blame for what happened probably never occured to her.
My hands are still shaking.
1 Still not my real name, no.
2 I didn't mention this in the original entry, but there was a guy who was dressed as Albus Dumbledore and refused to break character even as he was buying a book in which, as it turns out, his character dies. He even signed the credit card slip "Albus Dumbledore." My dreams were awash in his blood that night.
posted by Dktr. Blasphemy at 2:59 PM
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