Many mornings on my way to work, I get hives as I'm about to approach the building... figuratively mostly, but on the really good days I actually see a pock or two. In all honesty, driving off the nearest cliff is often more appealing than going to my bullshit retail job. But since I'm "only 23" and "in transition" this is supposed to somehow be okay... but I digress.
Being a 'Book Bitch' does have its moments of glory. I do like getting to see all the new releases before the public, I like making a mental list of all the books I want to purchase and/ or read, and I really like getting paid to read the New Yorker and flip through Vogue when its quiet. And believe it or not, I have come to enjoy some of our "regulars". Like, for instance, the Wee German Man, about 85, who comes in twice a week-- once to buy a German newspaper and once to buy Penthouse. He is a poster boy for Viagra. When I ask him how he's doing he always replies, "Its too soon to tell," and then shouts "No pennies!" when I hand him his change. Some other goodies are the elderly couple who regularly purchase the Nudist magazine, the 55 year old man with a wife and kids that could easily be on the cover of Town and Country; he comes in with the family to buy Dr. Seuss and romance novels and without his family to buy gay porn. And then there are the Discount Divas, always dripping in diamonds, who come in with heinous Vera Bradley bags and expired coupons and will fight to the death for their 15% off a $5 book. Oh, it is an exciting life I lead.
And those, my friends, are the good days.