don't get me wrong ... I really really like my newest job. working in a cool bookstore in a 'big city' is fantastic and has many perks.
like the boy who works at hallmark, two stores down from us, who waters all the concrete planters and walks ever.so.slowly.past.our.windows.
it makes me want to go into his store and buy a super cheesy sparkle encrusted card. i have no explanation for why.
or the people who call me back after i left a message on their machine saying their special order has come in. (which is just a fancy way of letting them know there is an item which they requested sitting on the shelves behind me). some people feel completely compelled to call me back, ask to speak to me specifically, and then launch into a full out time/date scenario so i will know when they will be arriving. this would never occur to me since i have 'call people back who left messages on my answering machine' phobia. i have no explanation for that either.
i also like the customers who come into the store and almost seem sheepish. they would like us to order them a book, but they have little to no details about said book (read: title, author, genre) and they really want to get their hands on the book but ask almost apologetically, as though it's 'too much trouble'. they don't know that i have the perfect computer program specifically for bookstores, oh, and google. they don't know that i actually dig that part of my job, either.
but yesterday took the cake. i am most certain that i accidentally phoned her ...
i am, admittedly, not the world's best editor (which is why my father comments on my posts from time to time, pointing out errors, and why i always hire out before publishing another study guide, and why i had to re-print my therapy brochures 3 times, but i digress). editing and proofreading is important when calling customers. i overlooked this detail. i think it was because my feet were killing me. in any case, the conversation went something like this:
me: hi, is this (insert correct name)?
me: it's kristina callling to let you know that your special order is in and we are open until 5:30 tonight.
momma: who are you?
me: kristina, calling from the book keeper, for (insert correct name, which she claims is her name, too)
momma: oh, i don't want you to sell me anything
me: i'm sorry ... this message is for (insert correct name) at (insert correct, i thought, phone number)
momma: what number is that? i really don't want you to be selling me something.
me: no. i am calling about a book that was specially ordered for you, to let you know it is here for you to pick up.
momma: who are you? I don't want you to sell me things.
me: i slowly speak number into telephone receiver, at which point my co-worker ever so slowly angles the number display feature toward my face and my eyes focus, and the blush slowly creeps onto my neck and cheeks.
i apologize to momma
my co-worker takes the invoice slip, dials the RIGHT number, finishes her call, gingerly shelves the book and says to me:
sometimes, it's just easier to leave a message.