People
who don’t work in bookshops always say the same thing to people who do:
“It
must be lovely to work in a book
store!”
The
comment is usually delivered in breathy, wonder-filled tones, and backed up
with a sense of awe. If you want to annoy a bookshop worker, saying this - or
something like it - is the best way to do it.
People
who don’t retail books seem to have a vision of how things are in the book
world: they think that we sit around all day, sipping lattes and reading
Dostoevsky. They think we have high-brow intellectual conversations regarding
reviews in the Times Literary Supplement
or air our opinions about the short-list for the Man Booker Prize. Nothing
could be further from the truth.
Selling
books is working retail, no more, no less. In this sense it’s no different from
selling fruit at a grocery store, or pushing white goods on folk at Harvey
Norman. You greet the customer; you respond to their request; you provide the
goods they need; you take their money; you wave bye-bye. End of story. Yes, you
need to develop your product knowledge, which, prima facie, means you have to get familiar with the books;
however, reading is something you do on your own time, not the business’s.
Bookstore workers know about books
more often than they know the books intimately.
Like
any other business, there’s a whole lot of administrivia that goes on behind
the scenes. Shelves need to be re-stocked; new books need to be priced;
displays need to be broken down and re-done. Many bookshops have a “sale or
return” policy with distributors that generally means new books can be returned,
if unsold, between 6-9 months: this time frame needs to be carefully monitored
and return authorisations requested. Company representatives appear regularly
and these people need to be schmoozed, their catalogues examined and products
identified along with quantities for purchase. And then, if the business has an
online presence, there’s a world of website updates and online orders to be maintained.
And,
when you boil it all down, books are heavy and they attract dust. Schlepping
and dusting are the mainstays of everyone’s role in a bookshop.
In
essence, it’s just like any other retail job and, like any other retail job,
the pay sucks. And here’s the kicker: of all the multitude of retail jobs out
there, bookselling pays the worst of all.
Yes
there are perks: sometimes you get a staff discount on all your purchases. The
downside though, is that you can’t claim these purchases on tax as “improvements
to your product knowledge”. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Unlike
any other retail position however, those people who sell books have to put up
with the most ludicrous expectations from their clientele. Someone will come in
and they’ll ask for a particular book; you find it for them and then they ask
‘is it good?’ Or they’ll suddenly assume – on the basis of the fact that you
know how your shop is organised – that you’re an appreciator of Mein Kampf like they are. On the basis
of the simple provision of literary material, book buyers – by and large –
assume that you’re soulmates. And then they want to talk about it.
Bookshops
are set up to allow the punters to browse. People wander in and have a look
around; often they’ll just be filling-in a few spare moments before their train
comes, or before an appointment. Letting people browse is like car salesmen letting
potential buyers kick the tyres. However, in bookshops, the customers somehow
assume that you, like them, have nothing at all better that you should be doing.
Next time you engage a bookseller in conversation look at their jaw: if they’re
clenching their teeth, stop talking: you’re keeping them from something
important.
Of
course, customers are important to
booksellers – without them the whole exercise becomes pointless. Most
bookpeople aspire to a point of grace between juggling all of the things that
need to be done in order to keep the shop functioning, and being entertaining
to their guests. It doesn’t always work. And, in a post-“the customer is always
right” era, the ideal customer tries to be aware of this.
By
not saying things like “it must be so much fun
to work in a bookshop!”
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