Reality (or something) is really yanking my chain lately.
I went into work feeling all zen, as I wrote about this morning. It's raining so I take the bus. I get to work and take off my rain poncho (I did have a second one at home when I gave one away--it just has a rip at the neck repaired with duct tape), punch in, put on a fresh pot of coffee in the break room, drop my stuff at my desk in the back donations warehouse, and walk up front to the BOOK'S section. And . . .
OMG.
Yesterday after I left at four, someone had taken it upon themself to tidy the fiction section. Ignoring the sign "In Alphabetical Order by Author", they had organized the books . . . by height.
From tall to short, on each shelf. They look so nice and tidy, don't they? If only people shopped for books that way.
"Here's a tall Toni Morrison, but I really feel like a shorter one. Oh, good, here's one further down the shelf."
None of my coworkers ever touch the books, so I was mystified how this happened. I asked around, and Big Boss told me it was a new staff member from the federal program that places and pays the salaries of hard-to-place older workers.
Luckily, BB had seen what she was doing and stopped her before she'd tidied the entire BOOK's area. The other areas wouldn't have mattered as much, since it's only the fiction that's in alphabetical order, but I appreciate BB stepping in.
It really wasn't the biggest deal--the books mostly stayed in the right section, and it only took me a couple hours to alphabetize them again. I'd been meaning to do a quick clean up anyway.
But once again the disarray is indicative of the Wild West way the store runs: newcomers aren't trained-in so much as released into their new environment. Often they don't do much––this worker showed admirable initiative.
I felt like crying, or laughing, hysterically. Uncle!
I went into work feeling all zen, as I wrote about this morning. It's raining so I take the bus. I get to work and take off my rain poncho (I did have a second one at home when I gave one away--it just has a rip at the neck repaired with duct tape), punch in, put on a fresh pot of coffee in the break room, drop my stuff at my desk in the back donations warehouse, and walk up front to the BOOK'S section. And . . .
OMG.
Yesterday after I left at four, someone had taken it upon themself to tidy the fiction section. Ignoring the sign "In Alphabetical Order by Author", they had organized the books . . . by height.
From tall to short, on each shelf. They look so nice and tidy, don't they? If only people shopped for books that way.
"Here's a tall Toni Morrison, but I really feel like a shorter one. Oh, good, here's one further down the shelf."
None of my coworkers ever touch the books, so I was mystified how this happened. I asked around, and Big Boss told me it was a new staff member from the federal program that places and pays the salaries of hard-to-place older workers.
Luckily, BB had seen what she was doing and stopped her before she'd tidied the entire BOOK's area. The other areas wouldn't have mattered as much, since it's only the fiction that's in alphabetical order, but I appreciate BB stepping in.
It really wasn't the biggest deal--the books mostly stayed in the right section, and it only took me a couple hours to alphabetize them again. I'd been meaning to do a quick clean up anyway.
But once again the disarray is indicative of the Wild West way the store runs: newcomers aren't trained-in so much as released into their new environment. Often they don't do much––this worker showed admirable initiative.
I felt like crying, or laughing, hysterically. Uncle!
