The last minute.
Imagine that you're a middle-aged academic1. Imagine that you have a paper to present on May 4th, and for that paper you need this book:
Now, imagine that it's May 3rd. You purchased the book weeks ago to make sure you'd have it, right? Your paper is ready to go and you're using these last few hours to do some last-minute fine tuning, right?
Not if you're imagining you're the woman with the lazy eye who came into the store on Wednesday, May 3rd. If you're imagining you're her, you're imagining that you're frantically scrambling to find the book the day before you absolutely need it or unimaginable things will surely happen.
As a college professor, the last thing one should probably do is take after one's students, but this is exactly what Prof. Lazy Eye did, waiting until the last minute before coming into the store and basically demanding that we figure out some way to get a book for which, at the point in which I entered the story, she and the staff of the art section had already thoroughly scoured the sales floor. Undaunted, she approached the customer service desk and was fortunately met not by me but by a manager, Uncle Jesse2, who explained to her that sometimes the computer will show, as in this case, a single copy of a book that cannot be found in the store for any number of reasons; as I'd previously explained to "Audrey Gronnit", it might be a computer error, the book might be on hold for a customer, a customer might be holding it right now, it might be in receiving waiting to get sent back to the publisher, etc.
Upon hearing that the book might be on hold for someone else, Prof. Lazy Eye's first response was, "Well, if it's on hold for someone can't you just get it and sell it to me?"
I wasn't even directly involved in the transaction and I was already prepared to feed this woman her heart. Uncle Jesse, however, is unflappable in these situations, which I suppose is one of the reasons that he is Management Material and I am not. He patiently explained that we do not put books on hold for people and then just up and sell them to someone else, to which her response was, "There has to be a way to do this. Think this through for me. I'm desperate."
The astute among you may have figured out that there was nothing we could do. I never cease to be astounded by people who don't understand that there needn't be a way to get them their books in the time frame they need. Usually, though, the you have to get this book for me i need it for a paper thats due tomorrow ohgodohgodohgod freakouts come from college students. This is a COLLEGE PROFESSOR. And as I walked up the escalator, dispatched by Uncle Jesse to check the return cart in the art section to see if it was there, my only wish was for this fucking idiot to leave the store without the book she so desperately needed.
I needn't have worried. One of the art section employees informed me that the book was definitely not anywhere on the sales floor and there was no point in wasting my time looking for it. That was good enough for me, as he had already spent quite some time looking for the book, during which time Prof. Lazy Eye had cussed him out for his inability to locate the book that the computer probably still says is in the store. If I have little patience for people who flip out when they put something off until the last minute and discover that that wasn't such a great idea3, I have absolutely none for people who get angry at service employees who have done everything they can to do their jobs. So it's safe to say that even if I'd found the book, I would've lied about it just to spite Prof. Lazy Eye, who eventually threw her hands up in resignation once she concluded that we'd failed her.
There are three punchlines to this story.
1. During the course of the would-be transaction, Prof. Lazy Eye told Uncle Jesse that she'd had the book in her hand the previous day, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She didn't buy it then because she figured she'd be able to get it at BN, and she had a gift card.
2. She also told Uncle Jesse that she didn't have time to go uptown to the Met and get the book.
3. After saying this, she went to the cafe to get a cup of coffee. She was still there an hour later, according to the employee she cursed out.
So she was desperate to get the book, but not desperate enough to pay money for it, and not desperate enough to make the time to go to the Met for the copy that was almost certainly still there. And she didn't have time to go to the Met, but kicking back in the cafe for an hour wasn't a problem.
"Somebody please kill her or kill me. I don't care which," said Uncle Jesse once the whole ordeal was concluded. If only, Uncle Jesse. If only.
1 If you happen to be a middle-aged academic, stop reading. You are not my target audience.
2 I can't imagine I have to tell you that the manager's name has been changed but I will anyway.
3 And I say this as an incorrigible procrastinator.
Now, imagine that it's May 3rd. You purchased the book weeks ago to make sure you'd have it, right? Your paper is ready to go and you're using these last few hours to do some last-minute fine tuning, right?
Not if you're imagining you're the woman with the lazy eye who came into the store on Wednesday, May 3rd. If you're imagining you're her, you're imagining that you're frantically scrambling to find the book the day before you absolutely need it or unimaginable things will surely happen.
As a college professor, the last thing one should probably do is take after one's students, but this is exactly what Prof. Lazy Eye did, waiting until the last minute before coming into the store and basically demanding that we figure out some way to get a book for which, at the point in which I entered the story, she and the staff of the art section had already thoroughly scoured the sales floor. Undaunted, she approached the customer service desk and was fortunately met not by me but by a manager, Uncle Jesse2, who explained to her that sometimes the computer will show, as in this case, a single copy of a book that cannot be found in the store for any number of reasons; as I'd previously explained to "Audrey Gronnit", it might be a computer error, the book might be on hold for a customer, a customer might be holding it right now, it might be in receiving waiting to get sent back to the publisher, etc.
Upon hearing that the book might be on hold for someone else, Prof. Lazy Eye's first response was, "Well, if it's on hold for someone can't you just get it and sell it to me?"
I wasn't even directly involved in the transaction and I was already prepared to feed this woman her heart. Uncle Jesse, however, is unflappable in these situations, which I suppose is one of the reasons that he is Management Material and I am not. He patiently explained that we do not put books on hold for people and then just up and sell them to someone else, to which her response was, "There has to be a way to do this. Think this through for me. I'm desperate."
The astute among you may have figured out that there was nothing we could do. I never cease to be astounded by people who don't understand that there needn't be a way to get them their books in the time frame they need. Usually, though, the you have to get this book for me i need it for a paper thats due tomorrow ohgodohgodohgod freakouts come from college students. This is a COLLEGE PROFESSOR. And as I walked up the escalator, dispatched by Uncle Jesse to check the return cart in the art section to see if it was there, my only wish was for this fucking idiot to leave the store without the book she so desperately needed.
I needn't have worried. One of the art section employees informed me that the book was definitely not anywhere on the sales floor and there was no point in wasting my time looking for it. That was good enough for me, as he had already spent quite some time looking for the book, during which time Prof. Lazy Eye had cussed him out for his inability to locate the book that the computer probably still says is in the store. If I have little patience for people who flip out when they put something off until the last minute and discover that that wasn't such a great idea3, I have absolutely none for people who get angry at service employees who have done everything they can to do their jobs. So it's safe to say that even if I'd found the book, I would've lied about it just to spite Prof. Lazy Eye, who eventually threw her hands up in resignation once she concluded that we'd failed her.
There are three punchlines to this story.
1. During the course of the would-be transaction, Prof. Lazy Eye told Uncle Jesse that she'd had the book in her hand the previous day, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She didn't buy it then because she figured she'd be able to get it at BN, and she had a gift card.
2. She also told Uncle Jesse that she didn't have time to go uptown to the Met and get the book.
3. After saying this, she went to the cafe to get a cup of coffee. She was still there an hour later, according to the employee she cursed out.
So she was desperate to get the book, but not desperate enough to pay money for it, and not desperate enough to make the time to go to the Met for the copy that was almost certainly still there. And she didn't have time to go to the Met, but kicking back in the cafe for an hour wasn't a problem.
"Somebody please kill her or kill me. I don't care which," said Uncle Jesse once the whole ordeal was concluded. If only, Uncle Jesse. If only.
1 If you happen to be a middle-aged academic, stop reading. You are not my target audience.
2 I can't imagine I have to tell you that the manager's name has been changed but I will anyway.
3 And I say this as an incorrigible procrastinator.
posted by Dktr. Blasphemy at 2:00 AM
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