Another one of those fun/odd shuffle transitions:
Life Is Pain (Leftover Crack) ---> Your Head is on Fire (Broken Bells)
Still underemployed & underutilized, still grateful for a job at all.
Does my store really need a teen paranormal romance section more than a horror section, and why do I seem to be the only one there who finds this very sad? $40 is acceptable for several diet books but not for one art book, and the poetry section is the tidiest in the store because no one reads poetry books and somehow it is more unusual to notice this & realize the crushing sorrow of it than it is to not read poetry at all.
Generally the most efficient way I've found to get out from under that particular blanket of despair is to replace it with pure rage at carrying those small publishers who only exist to reprint Wikipedia information at exorbitant prices. Who is driving this fucking bookstore?
Customers will occasionally forgo both greetings & pleasantries and snap a title at me as though I were a search engine rather than a human woman. Please remember that when you dehumanize others you are only dehumanizing yourself, and that we are all small here.
Bookbot so very tired.
