Thursday, December 18, 2003
Holiday Time
Okay, holiday madness caught up with me today. I'm beat, drained, and ready to go home and crawl onto the couch. Probably with a book, though maybe a non-provocative, non-interactive, commercially successful movie will win out.
The rest of this post will probably be a long whine, so feel free to skip down.
For the past month I've been trying to keep on top of holiday special orders from customers ("No, I'm sorry, it's six days before Christmas Eve, two of those days are weekend, and I just can't order that book on tree frogs from the University of Bangladesh Press that you'd like to have gift wrapped and sent to your Uncle Bob in Alaska. Yes, you can try some place online. I'm sure it's much friendlier to be told the same thing by email.")
In addition, now is the time I have to get all our textbook orders organized to begin placing the day after Christmas. This is the first time I've handled textbook orders, ever. It's a fun challenge, and something new. But Holy Cow. Keeping all the classes straight with the professors, the enrollments, whether we have used copies coming from Nebraska Book Company (god bless Nebraska Book Company). Ughh.
And then there's my own Christmas shopping I have to do. (Yes, I realize the irony every time I have to tell a customer that it is too late to get a certain book in time.) Really all I want to get everyone is a nice afternoon of conversation together, without any interruptions, at a quiet coffee shop. And yet I still dutifully haul myself out to the stores to pick out scarves. Why is that?
So this is a long sympathy hug to anyone else out there slugging away hours on a salesfloor trying to keep the Christmas spirit up for everyone else. Particularly for those booksellers who have been doing this for ten years or more. You're amazing. Frickin' Amazing.
As for me, I'll take a copy of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed and a hot cup of tea, thank you.
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The rest of this post will probably be a long whine, so feel free to skip down.
For the past month I've been trying to keep on top of holiday special orders from customers ("No, I'm sorry, it's six days before Christmas Eve, two of those days are weekend, and I just can't order that book on tree frogs from the University of Bangladesh Press that you'd like to have gift wrapped and sent to your Uncle Bob in Alaska. Yes, you can try some place online. I'm sure it's much friendlier to be told the same thing by email.")
In addition, now is the time I have to get all our textbook orders organized to begin placing the day after Christmas. This is the first time I've handled textbook orders, ever. It's a fun challenge, and something new. But Holy Cow. Keeping all the classes straight with the professors, the enrollments, whether we have used copies coming from Nebraska Book Company (god bless Nebraska Book Company). Ughh.
And then there's my own Christmas shopping I have to do. (Yes, I realize the irony every time I have to tell a customer that it is too late to get a certain book in time.) Really all I want to get everyone is a nice afternoon of conversation together, without any interruptions, at a quiet coffee shop. And yet I still dutifully haul myself out to the stores to pick out scarves. Why is that?
So this is a long sympathy hug to anyone else out there slugging away hours on a salesfloor trying to keep the Christmas spirit up for everyone else. Particularly for those booksellers who have been doing this for ten years or more. You're amazing. Frickin' Amazing.
As for me, I'll take a copy of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed and a hot cup of tea, thank you.
