Karen 5
"Sid, I need your advice on something please. I'm out on the floor lots, shelving books, customers ask where things are."
"I appreciate that you walk them to the area, instead of just pointing."
"Sid, it's not that, people get rude to me when I say we have religious books on everything except Judaism."
"Karen, see it from my perspective. First, I only have so many square meters and so many shekels for capital. Second, there are already people specializing in nothing but Judaica. So if I carry anything at all, it looks small, ridiculous. Haredim (ultraOrthodox) have the market cornered. Just refer any of those customers to another store. Whereas people who are curious about say Islam or Christianity or Buddhism, I have basic books. Does that make sense Karen?"
"Perfect sense now you explain it."
My 4,000 monthly shekels goes further than I anticipate, because of perks. Free coffee in the staff room. My job includes returning unsolds. So I send back the front page of newspapers and magazines, to prove we haven't sold it. Hence the staffroom has some of yesterday's dailies and last week's weeklies. Same with paperback books, when they're discontinued, I must send back the front cover. So we have a good selection to share around among us.
I soon discover this a way of life as opposed to a job.
Sid, now if he were serious about being a businessman, with that much capital, he'd do better anywhere else. If Naomi had the same responsibility level elsewhere, she'd do lots better.
Once a fortnight Sid's wife, a literature prof, shows up at closing time; coffee and lit bull session in the staffroom.
I'm invited to sit in, pick up lotsa information to pass on to customers.
After one such session, Naomi says, "Karen, plan on switching jobs."
"How so?"
"You slay me, you really do, all that time on the island, forgotten how to read people. She's jealous, afraid you'll steal hubby."
I roar with laughter, then, "you mean that gorgeous knockout is afraid of mousy little me? Shame on her!"
"She'll end up driving the place outa business. No men'll work for that wage, yet any women who show, we-ell."
I groan, "you ain't joking?"
"Nope, how it is."
I am tempted to ask how she is exempt from this nonsense, but instinct tells me I really don't wanna know.
"I appreciate that you walk them to the area, instead of just pointing."
"Sid, it's not that, people get rude to me when I say we have religious books on everything except Judaism."
"Karen, see it from my perspective. First, I only have so many square meters and so many shekels for capital. Second, there are already people specializing in nothing but Judaica. So if I carry anything at all, it looks small, ridiculous. Haredim (ultraOrthodox) have the market cornered. Just refer any of those customers to another store. Whereas people who are curious about say Islam or Christianity or Buddhism, I have basic books. Does that make sense Karen?"
"Perfect sense now you explain it."
My 4,000 monthly shekels goes further than I anticipate, because of perks. Free coffee in the staff room. My job includes returning unsolds. So I send back the front page of newspapers and magazines, to prove we haven't sold it. Hence the staffroom has some of yesterday's dailies and last week's weeklies. Same with paperback books, when they're discontinued, I must send back the front cover. So we have a good selection to share around among us.
I soon discover this a way of life as opposed to a job.
Sid, now if he were serious about being a businessman, with that much capital, he'd do better anywhere else. If Naomi had the same responsibility level elsewhere, she'd do lots better.
Once a fortnight Sid's wife, a literature prof, shows up at closing time; coffee and lit bull session in the staffroom.
I'm invited to sit in, pick up lotsa information to pass on to customers.
After one such session, Naomi says, "Karen, plan on switching jobs."
"How so?"
"You slay me, you really do, all that time on the island, forgotten how to read people. She's jealous, afraid you'll steal hubby."
I roar with laughter, then, "you mean that gorgeous knockout is afraid of mousy little me? Shame on her!"
"She'll end up driving the place outa business. No men'll work for that wage, yet any women who show, we-ell."
I groan, "you ain't joking?"
"Nope, how it is."
I am tempted to ask how she is exempt from this nonsense, but instinct tells me I really don't wanna know.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 12:08 PM
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