FlashFiction Dumpground

Barnes & Noble (true story)

* foul language ahead *

In times of the pandemic, visiting a bookstore was a luxury we were robbed of and learned to live without. Then maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that it took me months to visit the local bookstore giant with my son and husband. While a part of me was thrilled to see shelves upon shelves of literary wonder (and two floors!), the other part was underwhelmed. So many books but so few categories. I wanted tags and filters to dive into the rabbit hole of searches and find that niche little book I didn't know was exactly what I wanted.

But brick and mortar stores don't offer that experience and I found nothing. At least my son found himself a new manga (That Time I Was Reincarnated as a Slime), becoming the only book-buyer that day. He had a problem though: he found book 2 and 4 only.

Barnes & Noble employee to the rescue!

In a minute, the missing books were ordered and I awaited the promised phone call announcing their arrival.

Few days later, the long-awaited call came and I rushed to the store after work. There was no one by the service desk to ask about my order and a long line to the registers. I rode the escalator up to the second floor where we requested the books.

No name-tag-wearers in sight.

I walked across the whole floor, lurking in corners where people sat down for a free read, half-wishing I was them, but I was on a mission. If only I could find someone.

After unsuccessful search, I decided to look downstairs. Worst case scenario, I'd ask the cashier. As I get all the way down, I see an employee upstairs. Yes. Finally!

Back on the escalator I go.

As I rode up, I saw another employee upstairs. Two! What a miracle! But by the time I got there, both vanished, leaving me lurking between the aisles again, passing by the same free-readers.

Feeling stupid and angry, I thought Fuck it. Who needs a fucking Slime book. We can get it online. I'm leaving.

And then I saw that three employees had spawned downstairs by the Service Desk. Three! Where were they when I needed them? My mind still half-convinced this was a massive waste of time and I should leave, I gave them another chance, muttering under my breath that they better not move or there would be hell to pay.

By a miracle, one of them stayed put and I was able to ask my question.

"You can pick up the book by the register," she answered.

I stared at her for a moment, a mix of emotions running through me, and a thought that it couldn't be, that I didn't just wander around the store for fifteen minutes, riding escalators up and down repeatedly, and speed-walking in shoes clearly not meant for that, all to find that elusive name-tag holder that I didn't even need. I couldn't even be angry at her for making the process so "easy" for me. It wasn't her fault that I didn't ask at the time of ordering where to pick up the book (though I would've appreciated the information if it was offered).

So I thanked her and went to the cashier to pick up the first Slime book. Unfortunately, book three will arrive later so another trip to the bookstore is in the near future.

I think I'll send in my husband this time. Should I tell him where to pick it up or let him have fun riding the escalators?