The story of the poop on the stoop
Why working in a book store isn't always a 'dream job.'
It becomes apparent pretty quickly who can handle a poop story and who cannot. With the former, I can at least get to the end of the saga. With the latter, the moment I start retelling how we found what was probably a human poo on the front stoop of our store, they gag and scream, ‘ugh, stop!’ Personally, I prefer the people who find such things as funny as I do because, as I told a friend the other night, ‘I don’t need to be reminded of how horrific someone leaving poop outside your book store actually is.’
The longer I work at the second hand bookstore I manage, the more I accumulate these headliner stories, the kind that I’ll whip out at get togethers or Zoom calls with friends (if the listener can stomach it, that is). I mean, the poop on the stoop isn’t even the first time we’ve had to water blast the front of the store. The first time was when a customer decided to take a leak up against the outside wall. We couldn’t see him from inside, so we were confused about why we could hear trickling water but see no rain outside. Horrific, I know. The worst part is that after I yelled at him to cease immediately (which he did with such surprising suddenness I was almost impressed), he then popped back into the store where I told him in no uncertain terms that if he ever did that again, he’d be trespassed. He nodded and then asked me if we had an Russian authors in stock. I hate to say that I helped him try to find some (after I made sure he had used the store toilet and washed his hands). Even typing this has me wanting to grip my head in shame and remorse. I truly am too nice sometimes.
Obviously dealing with odd people and the biohazards they potentially leave behind isn’t what visitors think of first when they walk through the door. To them the store is a delight, a sacred space for book lovers. I feel almost bad harbouring these less lovely anecdotes only to have them to spring up whenever a customer chirps, ‘Oh this is my DREAM job. It must be amazing to work here.’ Doing my darn best to turn a strained smile into a genuine one, I often can only muster, ‘Yes, it is quite.’ Don’t get me wrong, working in a book store, any book store (unless the manager or owner is a bit shit) is a dream, the kind where you want to pinch yourself because there are moments that are just so incredibly wonderful. Despite that, you wonder why you’re rapidly turning into Bernard Black from Black Books.
The Wonderful Times - A List
You accidentally hired your new friend group, so every shift and team meeting is a chance to share food and hang out with your buddies.
Your team is so incredibly supportive (again, good job on hiring) that the moment they see you’re tired or upset, they ask if you want a cup of tea.
A proper barista-grade (is that a thing?) coffee machine has been installed in the store, which has almost exclusively been used to make fancy coffees and hot chocolates for staff rather than for customers.
On the one day that all the staff have off at the same time, you hired a van and spent the day driving around Auckland on a bookshop crawl.
Dozens of wonderful books get donated to the store weekly and you’re allowed to borrow any of them for as long you like.
You can eat a bowl of sun-warmed guava fruit that recently fell from the tree in the backyard.
You regularly have staff dinners sitting inside the store’s fiction room and when you try to remember what you talked about, all you can recall is the shared uproarious laughter.
You get to enjoy the calm of a quiet bookstore outside of operating hours.
You get to help someone who has been looking for a certain title for years and you just happen to have it in stock.
You can sit in the lush backyard while on break, knowing you’ll return to your job working with books in a moment.
Why I’m rapidly turning into Bernard Black - A List
There’s an older man grumbling about why you’re wearing masks in the store during a bad spike in COVID cases.
Another older man explains why Jacinda Ardern being a woman means she’s not as good at being Prime Minister and how immigrants are ruining this country.
An older couple literally shushes you because you’re laughing at a Tiktok video while they’re browsing.
Someone tries to donate a box of books, commenting that they’re still readable while said books are water damaged and covered in dust, dirt and mould.
People respond with, ‘Is that it?’ when you tell them how much money you can offer in exchange for their books.
You get trapped listening to old/lonely/well-meaning customers for 45 minutes (or more!) with no escape.
Trying to remove old Whitcoulls stickers from book covers.
The amount you sweat shifting heavy boxes of books around.
The fact that you sometimes have to throw out books because they’re too damaged or old for the store.
Realising just how grimy second hand books can be now that you have to clean every single one before it goes on your shelves (and being ruined for other second hand book stores forever because they don’t do this).
At the end of the day, working in a book store is just as much a retail job as anywhere else. Stock must be processed and added to the shelves, customers helped, enquiries fielded, complaints taken, staff managed, and stores kept tidy. However, I am so glad that we’re in the business of selling books, and second hand ones at that. What I think will stop me from going full Bernard Black (amongst other virtues, I hope) is that I’ll always be glad to see a book go off to its new home in a brown paper bag. Books contain worlds and opportunities for hope, distraction, reflection or encounter. Each sale feels like an investment in someone’s happiness. That type of job satisfaction? Bernard Black could never.
When I was offered the manager role at this book store, I cried because it felt like a dream come true. And it was. Now the dream has simply become dreamy. I’m very aware of the things that annoy and bug me, but they’re quickly overshadowed by the lovely customers we get to meet, the delight they feel in the store, and the many interesting books that pass through our hands. Second hand book selling will open your eyes to just how many books have, do, and will exist in the world and, while it is a bit overwhelming (especially if ‘read as many books as humanly possible’ is a life goal of yours), it’s also wonderfully, deliriously joyful.
Except, of course, when you have to water blast poop off your front porch (which I really hope never, ever happens again).
‘Diaries of a Part-time Bookseller’ is a new series I’m starting where I share some of the happenings at the second hand book store that I manage. Hope you enjoy them!