Sometimes, telling a customer not to purchase a book is an important part of my job.
Yesterday, a woman who volunteers at the local hospital was looking for something “light and cheerful” to read during her breaks. I grabbed the copy of Dickens’ Hard Times from her hand, and put it as far away from her as I could reach without just making a run for it.
The father picking up a copy of Fifty Shades at his fifteen-year-old’s request practically got slapped with it.
The woman who wanted a Harlequin-type romance and picked up Anna Karenina.
The mom who wanted something for a nine year old who was a “very advanced reader” and picked up A Clockwork Orange. And The Fight Club.
The mom who was buying The Game for her son. Ew.
Happy (not) reading.