tales from behind the books

I work at a used bookstore. Plastic bags stuffed with dog-eared romance novels and cigarette smoke are like my disgusting bread and butter. I get more women in there than I did at Ace. It may be a stereotype, but it's true. The store works on a credit system, we take in books that we can (no more than two of the same title!) and give you 30% of what our price is in credit. People usually have no problem with it. People even don't usually have a problem with the "Handling Fee" that we charge (.50 per book over $4 and .25 per book under). I think it's stupid and don't always charge people for it.
This is all basis for stories to come.
Our prices are not the lowest, but our books are often in pristine quality. They are, in most cases, 40% off the cover price. And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where my story starts.

It's a Sunday, slow as usual, and a little old woman comes up to the register where I am standing with three hardback books. "You are soo expensive," she says as she puts them down. "I don't blame you, honey. But the prices here are awfully high."
I've heard this before. It's an old bit.
"I'm sorry miss, would you like me to see if we have these in paperback?" This works nine times out of ten, they may not have thought about that, maybe the book is new and we probably have it. She has three popular mysteries, since mystery is my section and I just shelved, I know that we have them in stock. Hell, I'll even get them for her. She's old.
"Oh no, that's alright. I have to get them in hardback because my eyes are so bad." Oh man, she sounds like she might cry, which is, of course, a cue that leads into: "It's just I don't have too much money and can't afford to buy them new."

Geez.

"I'm terribly sorry, madam," I say this a lot. "But there's nothing I can do." I feel bad for her, but I saw inside her purse --it's full of receipts-- and I've dealt with enough people to know when they're lying. She's not totally lying, but seriously, I'm sick of people griping about the prices. And they usually mention they saw it at Costco for $5. I ring them up.
"Well, alright. I'll get them. They're just so expensive."
You've got to be kidding me. "If you'd like, I could put two of them on hold for you and you can buy them later."
"No, it's alright. Just I saw them--" stop me if you've heard this one "--at Costco."
I put my hands on the counter and open my mouth and suck in the air that will let me say "Well, go buy them at Costco then" but stop. Richelle, the girl who works with me on Sundays, is watching this whole thing. She's had her fair share of these people too, and probably knows what I would love to say.
The old lady pays and makes her way to the door, saying how very lucky they are to have such a nice young man working for them and how, even though it's expensive, she'll be back. I watch the door close.

She comes back in a half hour later. She bought them at a diffrent store across town. She wants to return them. It is not our policy to make returns, in fact, it is our policy to not make returns. I think seriously about telling her she shouldn't have bought the books if she was going to buy them somewhere else. I think about telling her tough luck.
But I take her card and make the return.

I never see her again.