In which The Author justifies his decision to take the money and run
(This isn’t meant to rhyme! It’s just an incomplete list of things I don’t miss about the book trade …)
No more having to work under a pompous, condescending, two-faced twat who’s taken pedantry, nitpicking, and petty rule-making to dizzy heights. (If people’s personalities can be summed up by a band name, there’s a metal band with his name on it.)
No more patronising students with hopelessly outdated reading lists, claiming to know more about the vagaries of the publishing industry than a man who’s spent twenty years in bookselling.
No more answering the phone to the parent of the aforementioned patronising students, who are either unable to use the telephone themselves, or who just can’t be bothered to drag their overprivileged arses away from In The Night Garden.
No more incipient gap year students diving into the shop a whisker before closing time, claiming they know ‘exactly what book they want,’ and then spending at least ten minutes browsing in the travel section when we all want to close up and go home.
No more Coleg Glan Hafren vouchers on the verge of their use-by date, being presented by people with the barest grasp of English and no concept of ‘publisher out of stock’.
No more Cardiff Business School vouchers … Ditto.
No more trying to explain the basic operation of the CHIP & PIN system to elderly people, at least three years after it was introduced as standard practice in shops and Post Offices.
No more people turning down the offer of a loyalty card on such spurious grounds as ‘I’ve got too many cards’ or ‘three per cent cashback isn’t very much.’ More money than sense is the phrase that springs to mind when dealing with these pathetic individuals.
No more inaccurate checklists and changeover lists from Head Office, meaning that I no longer spend at least one day out of every working week correcting some other person’s mistakes and getting no credit for it.
No more arrogant wankers insisting about an out of print title, ‘But I’ve seen it in Smith’s/Borders/online,’ (delete as applicable) and really having to fight down the urge to reply, ‘Well, why didn’t you buy it in Smith’s/Borders/online then, you thick twat?’
No more having to walk to Aberdare Station in the pissing rain every Bank Holiday Monday because there’s no bus link to get me to work.
No more having to try and cram in a Servini’s breakfast in a forty-minute break on a Saturday morning.
No more ‘Power Hours’, ‘Get Selling’, ‘Team Times’, ‘Huddles’, ‘One-to-Ones’, ‘CDPs’, and all the other jargon-laden crap that Head Office and idiotic managers dream up in order to take people away from their primary reason for working there.
No more bag searches, pocket searches, locker searches, and even covert surveillance of colleagues outside company time.
No more hearing the same ten pieces of classical music (and not even decent classical music) on constant repeat, eight hours a day, five days a week, for months on end, to the extent that you hear them in your fucking sleep.