Retail Blog

New Year's Eve!

And I'm working. It's cool though, I've got a fat bottle of champagne chilling at home courtesy of my mom, who is simply incapable of not being awesome to people. She hooked up my roommates and I with this big basket of housewarming gifts (we just moved into a big house, in case I haven't mentioned it 20 times in every corner of the internet). In addition to the aforementioned booze there were chips, dips, candy, potholders, and various lotions for the ladies of the house to slather upon their persons and make them smell like nice things.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, this is a retail blog. So this kid came in just now and ordered a couple jazz discs from me. We got to talking about concerts and he apparently saw the recently departed James Brown (RIP) play live last year. It was funkiness epitomized and of course he proceeded to Get Down. All of a sudden this woman told him to stop dancing. Come on! DON'T dance to James Brown? Have you ever seen footage of the man performing? He used to bust splits and move across the stage like he was wearing socks on a hardwood floor instead of immaculately shined black shoes and a tailored suit. And if you've ever heard so much as one verse of the man's oeuvre, you know there's no avoiding the funk. It reaches in and draws the dance machine out of the stodgiest accountant.

Okay, back to work.

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Edit: Sometimes I get promo CDs in the mail from this place called Soleilmoon. I have no idea who they are but they ship us samplers of their bands' latest releases, which tend to be a little on the experimental side. Just tossed in the latest disc and forgot about it. Next thing I knew there was a mother and her two young children, browsing the stacks while the CD sampler played car crash noises and a young woman's voice started saying things like, "My bones were broken in 36 places. My pelvis was actually cracked in half." The mother turned white, her kids didn't really notice. I put on some Louis Armstrong instead.
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I'm drinking at work.

Hooray!

Yep, it's tradition here at the bookshop to down some bubbly on Christmas Eve in the waning hours of the rush. People were actually pretty cool today. Maybe it was because it's Sunday, but overall I'd call it a "slow" X-mas Eve.

Had a couple weirdos but nobody really stuck out as a jerk. I even saw Andrea, my old art class friend from high school. That has nothing to do with anything, I'm just in the mood to type. Whee, typing is fun! And, to quote Barbie, "Math is hard."

Let's see, what else? Christmas bonus this year was pretty damn awesome. Especially when you consider that our profit margin is sinking lower than Jürgen Prochnow in "Das Boot." Look that up.

Okay, I gotta go. More drinking to be done, more customers to belittle. Thanks for a great year, people. Merrye Christemasse!!
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Woah, that was rough. This woman just bought some music from me and she sported the most horrible breath I've ever whiffed. It was like somebody murdered a garlic skunk in her mouth. I tried holding my breath but she had all these questions too, so I'd run our of breath and my responses sounded all raspy. I started having to make excuses, like "Let me check if we have that artist," then run away and gulp great lungfuls of clean air. My face is still red from the effort. Or maybe her breath burned me.
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Image of the day: I was walking into work this morning and an old woman was sitting on a bench in front of the place. She was smoking furiously, and as I walked past she looked up at me with one milky eye.

I choose to believe it's glaucoma and she was high as a kite on medicinal marijuana. Otherwise it's just too sad a scene.
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