Book Sale Eve

Tomorrow will be the culmination of all the work I've been doing at my notjob: The Book Sale. If I have to take away only one lesson learned from all of this it is that I should never again waste my time inscribing witty and heart-felt messages into books that I give as gifts. I now know what you people do with them. So many of the books that we're selling have inscriptions from loved ones, spouses, grandparents, children, and friends written in the front. And every time I see one I feel bad for the giver who took the time to write it when their pieces of crap friends and relatives are just going to get rid of the book anyway. I mean seriously, who even raised these people?

Today I got to boss around a bunch of teenaged cadets. They call me "ma'am" and "ma'am yes ma'am." It was kind of awesome. Their job was to load the shelved books onto carts and then wheel them to their designated book sale area. One cadet was loading the books onto the cart one . . . book . . . at . . . a . . . time. He would pause to look at the front and back of each one. Eventually I asked him if he liked reading. His answer: "Not really." So then I was all torn, because the reader part of me thought, "Maybe one of these Oprah book club books will catch his eye and he will want to read it and it will be the start of a whole new life of knowledge and light and non-delinquency, and so I should not do anything to damage the tender plant." The other part of me thought, "Okay, MOVE IT, kid. Or I swear I will take that copy of A Million Little Pieces out of your hand and beat you with it."

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