Day of Rest?

Hello.

Sundays, traditionally in the Judeo-Christian ideological base, exist as Days of Rest. When I was in Sunday School, seven of us children were picked to draw each of the days of creation. My randomly drawn day? Fuckin' Sunday. I drew an old man in a hammock.

See, it is on a Sunday that one is supposed to take it easy, to sleep in and eat French toast and pick daisies and kick toads.

So why do so many people ignore this cultural precept and come to Booth and Noble?

And why do they seem so upset to be in a bookstore?

Bookstores are supposed to be fun places. You go to one because you want to, not because you have to. If you're there because you have to get a present, why don't you just go to a Target, or a Wal-Mart, or a pet store? Why do you feel like you HAVE to come to Booth and Noble to get a gift? And, if it's such a hassle, why don't you just get a gift card, so that you don't have to bother people?

The point is, if you're mildly psychopathic, and you have questions for the Grunts on a Sunday morning, then be very careful what you ask for. For example, a man comes up to me yesterday with this glazed look in his eyes, like he just ate one too many fish fingers and he can kinda taste the breading coming back up in his throat. He coughs a little bit, and looks to his left and his right, as if he was being chased by the pie throwing fiends who got Bill Gates .

His obese jowls wobbled hypnotically when he opened his wet, slippery lips to reveal a mouth that would make a dentist quiver. Half his teeth are missing, and the other half look ready to follow their brothers into dental exile. His massive cheeks, like a cross between Dizzy Gillespie and a inflamed squirrel , part and a slight wind tunnel is created that shoots hot air into my face. He smells like peat moss.

"Do you have books for quarters?" he asks. This is not an unreasonable question. The books of which he speaks are in a less-traversed corner of the store, so I take him there.

"Do you want one with State Quarters, or one with the new Presidential Dollar coins coming out soon?" I ask, also, I feel, not unreasonably.

He looks at me like I just squashed his hamster, or at least served it as an appetizer .

"No." He looks me up and down. "I want one without quarters in it. Empty. I don't want Booth and Noble quarters."

I tilt my head quizzically and nod sympathetically. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure you get an empty case." Then I leave.

Later in the day, a customer yelled for me to come over to her. I was standing at the information desk, trying hard to look like I was busy, and she was on her mobile phone in the cookbooks section.

"Excuse me!" she yells, across the store.

I look around. She's talking to me? Ok, and I walk over.

"Can I help you?"

She's got one of those Nextel phone/walki-talki sucki phones that are really loud and annoying. She yells into it:

"The guy's here. What do you want?"

The phone answers: "::beep beep:: Tell him I want The Abs Diet for Women. ." Yes, if you want to get an Abs Diet book, the best way is to not get off your couch and send someone else for it. That's like working out by watching Soccer on TV, or learning by eating someone else's brain.

The woman in the store turns to me. "Do you have The Abs Diet for Women?"

I say, "If you'll let me get to a computer, I can go check for you." I head BACK to the information kiosk, where the computers are. I hear, from behind me, the woman say into the phone "::beep beep:: He's checking the computer."

I look it up and find it. It's directly behind her. I walk back to her, and pick the book up off the shelf, not a foot and a half from her behind. "Here it is, Ma'am."

She looks at me, at the book, and then at the phone. "::beep beep:: He's got it here."

Phone: "::beep beep:: Great! How much is it?"

I sigh, outwardly and with great gusto.

The woman looks at me. "How much is it?"

I turn the book around and look at the back. "$24.95"

"::beep beep:: It's $24.95."

":: beep beep:: Is it on discount?"

"Is it on discount?"

"Yes, it's 20 percent off. That's what this 20 percent off sticker means."

"::beep beep:: It's 20 percent off. There's a sticker."

"::beep beep:: I'll take it."

"We'll take it."

"I'm relieved," I say, as I walk back to the kiosk.

Moments later, I walk back to the section to see if anything's out of order, and I notice that the woman's cell phone is there. I think to myself, "Wow, that woman really irritated me, I should leave the phone here and make her leave and come back for it."

But I'm not going to turn into one of Booth and Noble's customers. So I head to the cash area, to give her phone back to her. She's standing in line.

"Ma'am, I think you left your phone." I hand it to her.

"Oh." She says. And looks at me. And turns away.

I stand there a moment, slightly aghast. No thank you? Not even an "I'm Sorry?" Or even a "::beep beep:: I'm Sorry?" All I get is an "Oh." ?

Sunday: A day when you rest...after work...with a scotch.