There
is a presumption that is visited upon every person who walks into a bookshop –
that they can read. Having passed through the portal, no-one is going to assume
that you are here to stare at the bindings or that you wish to immerse yourself
in the spectacle that is a minor sort of financial activity taking place before
you. No, having set foot in a bookstore, it will be assumed that you are here
to find something to read; that you in fact have some kind of facility with the
language.
(Here,
I take no issue with those people who don’t speak English but who enjoy reading
in their own tongue, and enter a bookshop on the off-chance that there is
something waiting inside for them in their own vernacular. I feel your pain.)
I’m
fully aware that to assume things is to make an “ASS” of “U” and “ME”, but on
the whole, walking into a bookshop to conduct business raises at least a reasonable
level of expectation about the customer’s literacy and their ability to
communicate. How then, to explain this:
A
customer walks in and sees a copy of The
Little Prince displayed for sale. Picking it up she says:
“How
old is this?”
Gently
taking the book from her I check the publication details and reply:
“It’s
a recent edition, produced in 2005.”
A
look of annoyance creases her features.
“No,”
she says, miffed, “I mean, how old is
it?”
Returning
the book to her, I mentally switch gears.
“I
understand,” I say, “it was written by Antoine de Saint-Exupery in 1943.
It’s a tried and true classic.”
The
customer slams the book on the counter top.
“No!”
she growls, “I don’t care about that. I want to know the age of it!”
Realisation
dawns.
“I
see,” I say; “you’re asking, for which age group is it appropriate.”
“Obviously!”
she fumes.
“No
– not obviously” passes through my brain, “given that you are a gibbering moron
I shouldn’t expect you to communicate in anything other than a slack-jawed
yowl; but if you are going to mangle the language of Shakespeare, please at
least try to grunt coherently next time you attempt to make a purchase.”
However, this is what comes out of my mouth:
“My
mistake. It’s one of those books enjoyed by people of any age, particularly the
young. Would you like to buy it?”
“Oh,
alright,” she says ungraciously, “I suppose so...”
Like
she’s doing me a favour, after making her look good. Sheesh!
