In Memorium

Today I woke up, made a cup of coffee, grabbed my book and went out to the deck to watch the water and read. 

I'm currently on a hobo vacation, housesitting on Lake Oswego.  It's like being at a lake house, but you still have to go to work. 

I was trying to finish reading Outlander, a terribly trashy but fun read, something my aunt recommended I read when I was in Montana. 

But I cannot read. 

At all. 

I pick up a book, any book, and my mind starts to wander. Suddenly I realize I've looked at a succession of pages and have no memory of what I just read. 

It has been like this for two weeks now. Since the liquidation started. I can't even pick up a book. It just makes me incredibly sad.

For the past three years, it has been my job to know about books. To know what is new, to know where to find it and to guess what book a customer is talking about when they say "I'm looking for a book that has a blue cover but I don't remember the title or author but I saw it the last time I was here."

Sometimes I felt like a book detective. I would ask questions.

Where did you see it when you were in the store? Was it a hardback? Do you remember how much it cost? Were there pictures on the front? Was it fiction or non-fiction. And slowly, but surely, we would narrow it down and about half the time, figure out what it was they were looking for. 

About 75% of the time, you could ask me the title of a book and I would tell you where to find it on display in the store. I was usually the one to put it on that display. 

I knew the title, author, and plots of books that I had absolutely no interest in reading. 

I knew what was coming out this week, what was coming out next week, and books being published months in the future. 

Two weeks ago, that ended. 

I feel like I lost my superpower. 

A few winters ago, I would wear an ugly black cape jacket over a warmer fleece. I would tell people I was a literary superhero. 

Now my only superpower is the ability to hobo up anything. 

I will miss a lot of things. 

Coffee that cost $0.35 a cup. 

The feeling of being in an empty, organized store at 6am. 

Working with TD almost every Tuesday morning for two years. We would put out new books and talk about what we were reading. Back in the day, we would take a break and most of the morning crew would walk over to Peet's Coffee. 

Pulling books out of boxes. Always like unwrapping a present.

The employees. When you put fifty employees of varying personalities in close proximity, there is bound to be drama, frustration, and eye-rolling.  But for the most part, for me, there was laughter. Bookstores employ smart people and we were lucky to have funny people, too.

TS and his endless knowledge of anything Full House or Saved By the Bell. The entire cafe crew, who I am fairly certain wanted to kill each other most of the time. My sister-wife AM. EFB, former roommate, current boss, full on crazy-pants. JAO, a woman who rolled her eyes at everything I said but still told me she liked closing with me best (I think she told all the supervisors that). JK, a man that knows everything and I understand none of what he says.

If you asked me today, I would tell you everyone I work with is awesome. If you asked me three months ago, I would tell you I hate them all.

It has not always been peaches and cream. There were times I got so angry and disappointed that I applied for new jobs, went to interviews.

Times when I was frustrated with low pay, a terrible schedule, and an overwhelming work load.

But I stayed. I couldn't walk away. It was like that terribly unhealthy relationship where you love each other to destruction.

And now I mourn for my the store. I say goodbye to the way it was. I put it to rest. I can hear the faint, echoing sound of Taps being played out on a lonely, sad trumpet.

Day is done.
Gone the sun.