Bookshop Confessions: “They’re nazi books”

The way my desk is positioned at the bookshop, I am in direct eye-line of the front door from the opposite end of the store. Which means I can easily greet anybody the moment they walk in, and I can also spot if they’re trying to steal something. Well, theoretically, at least. I have never caught anybody stealing from the shop. I also forget to look out for that. Please don’t steal from the shop? Can we just co-exist on an honor system when you’re in Ghoulish Books? Okay, thanks.

Anyway, the reason I bring up the position of my desk is to help you visualize the scene I am about to paint you. I am seated, watching an episode of Girls instead of answering the many, many emails demanding my attention, when the door chimes and in walks this man who I imagine is in his late 60s. He doesn’t even glance at the merchandise on either side of him as he walks with purpose through the shop directly at me, never breaking eye contact.

This happens sometimes, and the reasoning is always annoying. Usually they are asking me if they really have to pay for parking (it’s a private lot and I have no authority over whether you get ticketed), or they’re just looking for a bathroom (we literally do not have a space for the public to use the bathroom; we have a small toilet in our back office without any walls or doors hiding it, surrounded by shelves of shipping material and various confidential information unfit for unauthorized eyes). Sometimes they’re coming in to challenge me about the sandwich sign message I’ve written outside (I’ll tell this story another day).

What brought this guy in today wasn’t some bizarre reason. In fact he had a typical question I’m used to answering by now: Do you buy used books? And the answer is easy enough: Nope! 

Anyway here’s how the conversation played out:

Him: Do you only sell brand-new books here?

Me: Yes.

Him: So you don’t buy used?

Me: No, sorry.

Him: I bring it up because I have a bunch of used scary books outside I was hoping to interest you in.

Me: Oh, well…sorry, yeah. We’re a pretty small space. We don’t have the room for a used books section. [Suddenly nervous he’s going to notice the rack of used Goosebumps paperbacks next to him.]

Him: Some people consider the books I have very scary.

Me: Well. Again. We don’t—

Him: They’re nazi books.

Me: [Lets out a nervous laugh.] Uhhh no thank you.

Him: So what kind of scary do you sell here? Like horror novels? Spooky books? Or what?

Me: Yeah, pretty much.

Him: And you have enough of a following in the community to have a store here?

Me: [Laughing harder.] You are standing in it, buddy.

Him: Wow. I really need to figure out how to get involved in a scene like this. [Glances around for 5 seconds.] Well. See ya! [Walks toward the door, stops, glances over his shoulder, and perfectly imitating Tim Robinson’s best characters, shouts one final goodbye.] The books I have are because I found them!

*exits*