27. Astrophysicist, writer, artist. Michigan. Business inquiries: kaijunobiz@gmail.com
Perfection is a bookstore with cats in it. These adorable felines live at David Mason Books in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
A fear submitted by Marek to Deep Dark Fears. Thanks! The new Deep Dark Fears book is
available now at
Amazon,
B&N,
IndieBound,
iBooks,
Google Books, your local bookstore, and wherever books are sold!
this is an insult
I once applied and interviewed at a bookstore cafe for a barista position. It was way closer to my home, and I had almost a decade of experience working in a coffee shop at that point.
Got to the interview, and it turned out they didn’t want a barista, they wanted someone to spearhead their new cafe, as the cafe that had been in the store before didn’t want to resign their lease with the bookshop. They wanted to put their own cafe in its place, all new menus etc. They needed someone experienced to train their new staff, to handle window displays, to communicate with the bookstore owners about changes and needs of the cafe, to be able to handle inventory and ordering.
Okay, I had basically done most of that stuff at my previous job. I asked if cafe positions would also be required/trained to work the bookstore.
They would. They would be required to run the book sale counter, stock and reshelf books, and help bookshop customers find things. They would also–despite having an outside cleaning company–have to help maintain bathroom cleanliness. They’d have to take out trash, and clean spills, and vacuum.
Wow, that’s a lot, I said. Is this a manager’s position, then?
No, I was told, it wasn’t, but there was a chance that after a training period it might become one. And that made me pause, because I’d been working as the front-of-house manager at my cafe, and I knew how much work that entailed, and what kind of money I was making, and it was only the commute that had me looking for a new job.
So I asked what the job paid.
$8. E I G H T D O L L A R S. Per hour. Barely above minimum. For all of that work. For someone they expected to get an entirely new cafe up and running, and then also do the work of the bookstore and the cleaning company as well.
I thanked the woman for the interview, said I’d have to talk to my significant other about the impact a four dollar pay cut would have on our finances, and that I wasn’t sure it was the job for me. She asked me to sleep on it, and she’d call me the next day.
This is a job I was way more than qualified for. I had years of experience doing exactly the things they wanted. It was a convenient location, close to my home–I could walk there if I absolutely had to. I did not go home and talk about that four dollar pay cut and what it would do to our finances. I knew as soon as she told me that not only was it not feasible for us, it was downright insulting. That little money? For a frankly ridiculous list of responsibilities and expectations?
She called back the next day. I thanked her again, and told her in no uncertain terms that my time was worth way more than what they were offering.
And whenever people bitch about Millennials being lazy, not spending money, not buying houses…whatever the complaint of the month is…I think about the very nice lady who conducted this interview, and how confused she was that I didn’t want the job.
Because it’s in Ojai, California where the weather’s always nice, Bart’s Books is an open air bookstore.
It’s open until sunset every day, but that doesn’t mean you can’t buy a book when they’re closed.
It’s a lovely place to browse or sit and read.
Isn’t this lovely?
And, your dog is welcome to browse, too.
You can spend hours here.
Cookbooks are in an actual kitchen from an old house.
Winston can’t believe what he found, he’s been looking for that book for ages!
And, like any good bookstore, they have a cat. This is Pygmy (aka Pigley).
Can I, as a Bart, get preferential consideration for employment?
WHAT IS THIS
WHAT IS THIS
WHAT
IS THIS A LIBRARY IN A THEATRE
ALL OF MY DREAMS HAVE JUST COME TRUE
oh. oh my god.
this is genuinely the most beautiful thing i have ever seen
This is a book store called El Ateneo in Buenos Aires, Argentina! You can have coffee while sitting on the stage. One of my favorite places in my city.
It’s a BOOKSTORE?!
there are balconies where you can sit to read too
and that’s the stage where you can have a coffee :)
Calvin and Hobbes: The Force Awakens #2 Brian Kesinger
Story artist at Walt Disney animation studios / Artist for Marvel Comics. Check out his etsy store for books and prints www.etsy.com/shop/BrianKesinger
Updated 2/25/16
i imagine getting my own place all the time and going down to the grocery store early in the morning before everyone else and to the coffee shop and having a really small place with wide windows and lots of plants and shelves of books and a tiny kitchen where i can make tea and noodles and a bed with a pile of blankets and just a place i can make uniquely my own or maybe a place i could share with someone but i just think about this place a lot idk
One of my professors is an extremely famous, well-known painter who has been in galleries since he was a young man in the 80s. He once asked me in class, “Alyssa, what are your dreams and aspirations for the future?”
You should have seen the puzzled look on his face when I described something similar to the post above.
“Why so humble?!” He laughed. “You know you’re talented, right? You could aspire to a lot more than that for sure.”
And I had to take that moment to explain to him that this is what my generation is given, this is how low our standards for happiness have to be. A humble existence, a small piece of the world for ourselves, and comfortable stability are just as out of reach for some of us as fame and reknown was for him in the 80’s. His face went somber immediately.
Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.
I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.
This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.
So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.
Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.
“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”
“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.
I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.
Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.
I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.
So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.
While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.
After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.
“I saw your snake,” I told him.
“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”
“He was sleeping.”
“Yes, he enjoys that.”
“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”
He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”
Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.
Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.
“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”
He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”
When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.
All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.
He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”
Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.
In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.
But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.
He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.
By hand.
With a fountain pen.
And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.
this is the best buzzfeed article i’ve ever read i literally teared up i just!!!
Museum Cat is clearly, like… prestige class of Bookstore Cat
when im in a bookshop or library and im trying to read the titles of the books on the shelves
when the titles aren’t written in the same direction
