Canto XVII – The Dark Grandstand

I was reminded recently of another perversion that takes place in bookshops (and other emporia, no doubt) and, although I have already touched upon it previously, I thought it should have its own moment to shine. Or leer. Whatever.

It takes place like this: there you are going about your day – filling customer orders; re-stocking; cataloguing like the wind – when a fellow (and it’s generally a fellow) breezes through the door looking smugly self-satisfied and as if suddenly surprised to find himself in a bookshop – a BOOKSHOP! – despite the sign above the door outside. He will make some general introductory remarks regarding how books smell, how many of them there are, and whether they might be in some kind of order? Then he will leap straight to the real reason that he has deigned to darken your door.

Might you have in stock, he will say, a particular book I’ve been looking for? He will offer the handy morsel that it’s very difficult to obtain and that it’s unlikely to be simply languishing on a bookshelf in your – your! - store. Usually there will be an accompanying observation that they’re probably just wasting their time even asking…

‘Yes,’ you say. ‘Over there in the military section, third shelf.’

Instantly, the world-weary smarminess drops away. The punter will blench, their eyes widening and their Adam’s apple will suddenly go into a series of spasms as if it’s developed an intense need to high jump their collar.

‘Really?’ they gulp.

‘Really,’ you say. And then you tell them the price. And often, because it is such a hard book to locate, that price will be high.

‘Oh! Right,’ they mumble. ‘Look, I’ve left my wallet in my car – I’ll just pop out and get it…’

And you’ll never see them again.

(The best times are when all this palaver post-dates the gratuitous displaying of said wallet, in order to prove that they are, in fact, a Player of some note.)

It makes me wonder about several points. Do these guys keep lists of rare books in their heads to trot out for just this purpose? Is there research involved? Do they keep track of where and when they’ve attempted this ploy and the times it has failed, in order to never face the ridicule of having to enter those bookshops ever again? And how insecure must they be to even attempt this kind of stupidity?

It seems to be a little-known fact that our job is to find books for people, no matter how obscure or hard to pin down. I would have thought that was obvious.

I was talking with a former colleague the other day and she reminded me that there’s another version of this game that’s, if anything, even more poisonous. In this iteration, the book, or books, in question are not that hard to find; the focus is upon the perceived level of ability of the staff member due to the subject matter in question and the gender of the employee.

‘Look,’ the punter will say, ‘you’d better go and get the manager for this one, sweetheart: I’m looking for a book on the SS.’

‘Leibstandarte? Totenkopf? Prinz Eugen?’ the staff member will offer.

‘Um… what?’ is the typical response

Deep sigh from the staff-member.

‘Which division?’ she will ask, enunciating clearly; ‘was it a tank unit you were after?’

‘Um… I’m not sure…’

‘Perhaps a nice general history will get you started…’

At which point the punter will mutter something about their lunch-break being over and having to get back to the coalface.

(The other thing which people – surprisingly - seem to be a little unsure about, is whether people in bookshops know anything about what it is they’re selling.)

This little big-noting game is a relatively common occurrence in my world and in those of my colleagues. There was a time - back in the 80s when the mantra “The Customer Is Always Right” was in vogue - when there was no defence against it; in the days when, if your boss pissed you off, you could pop down to the nearest shop and vent your spleen against some nameless peon who had no other option but to sit there and take it. Nowadays, we live by other truisms, and we don’t play games anymore. Instead, we will make you regret even trying it.