1. Not Knowing who Andrew Clements Was. (2008)
This memory is clear. Week One. A gentleman comes in to browse our fledgling shelves. He inquires pointedly where the Andrew Clements books are. I have not heard of Andrew Clements. He can tell. I am revealed as fraud for thinking myself able to tend a meaningful bookstore. “Clements is important to kids in transition from elementary to middle,” he offers insistently. “Thank you for letting me know about his work. We will likely stock it soon,” I say. This felt to be a big blunder that first week, failing to meet expectation of knowledge and not having the books “everyone” knows we should have. But the true misstep here was my assuming the exchange a loss. To the contrary, it was a part of the key to our promise of knowledge itself. Shockingly, I still don’t know all the authors and books requested by customers, but my response is still (and always will be) the same: “Thank you. Now I know more.”
2. Thinking tweens would like to talk politics in Hunger Games (2009)
We hosted a pizza party/ book discussion in ’09 . The turnout was great because kids were anxious to talk about this book and vote Peeta v. Gale, but why did I keep asking about the “psychology of revolution” and the ways “rhetoric of war and the propaganda of leadership” were clear in the text? Way to make a great story about rad teens caught in a dramatic challenge and emerging love triangle boring, book lady.
Thanks for setting me straight, kids. You did.
3. Making Written Mistakes. (all the time)
We are book people who claim to love words and their rules of operation, so why do we misspell them on a receipt or post a newsletter/social media missive with a typo? Because we are humans prone to making the mistakes that hurt us the most.
4. Carting Books to Car, Loading the Large Hand Truck. Leaving Books on Sidewalk. Driving home. (2011)
When asked what part of the business I’m not good at, I don’t miss a beat: moving and tending all the boxes of books. You’ll see this in action when I load in to any community event or move boxes in store. This is a task I often took on as a strong (not strong) one-woman show for years.
In spring of 2011, I took several heavy boxes of books to an author event downtown. The books didn’t all sell, so I loaded them back on my trusted hand-truck and walked to the car. There I astutely placed the boxes on sidewalk, put the precious, heavy hand-truck into the trunk and drove dreamily away, leaving the books to fend for themselves on the Kalamazoo Mall. (They were gone from the walk in the morning, never to be seen again.)
5. Underestimating the number of people who would come out for Patricia Polacco. (2017)
We’ve hosted Patricia several times in the last 10 years, each time to a large, vibrant, crowd, but nothing quite prepared us (or her) for the endless line of (thousands) that came out to see her this last summer. We didn’t have enough books or space in her remarkable home, but we did have just enough wherewithal to make sure everyone left with compassion and hope.
6. Setting Out Too Many Chairs (2008 – ?)
It’s not as devastating as not being able to serve hungry fans well, but it is demoralizing nonetheless and one of the necessary blunders of hosting free and open events: sometimes far fewer people come than you hope, and the difference between the dream and the reality is there for a grateful small few of us to see.
7. Thinking We Can Be Everything to Everyone.
This one speaks for itself, but is a particular conundrum for brick&mortar retail. In many ways, we are committed to serving every person and every need that comes through the door. It took years to understand that some people entering did not have interest in who we are or what we are offering and could say something hurtful (that should instead be received as matter of fact): “This place doesn’t have anything I like.”
8. Thinking that there are more pressing things to do than read.
Starting the business was more work than ever imagined. Operating and growing it…more so still, everyday.
It often seems responsible to not indulge in what brought us to the business to begin with: reading for pleasure.
You see the blunder here though, no?
9. Introducing the wrong author
I haven’t kept tally on number of authors introduced over the years, but I will always remember the one I did the unforgivable to: read bio aloud (from loved, trusted source), only to discover it was that of another writer who had very same name. I stopped mid-way, aware of the blunder, apologized, and promised to keep his book face-out on the shelf (and my head in the sand) for life.
10. Being married in front of people.
We own a business together and don’t always agree on the details. Here’s one: I like to start large events promptly. He prefers to wait for likely late arrivals. At the start of one such event, we disagreed publicly on the matter. A loving attendee offered “can you tell they are married?”
Yes, we’ve learned to set clear “personal and professional lines, with respect and communication as pillars to both,” but do staff and customers catch glimpses of a private, bickering couple sometimes?
Yes. No. Yes.
this is a bookblog 