Hello, I won't be going.
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| Light-up Hello with reproduction of Edison's light bulb |
After I applied for the job in the Duluth bookstore, everything at work conspired to make me want to stay.
Small things: A copy of Call the Midwife got donated--I've been wanting to read the actual memoirs since the BBC series has been a guide through these first seasons of Covid.
Bigger things: A mutual coworker told me Mr Furniture had told him approvingly that I always face the good books forward––i.e., books about race, Mr Furniture's interest––and that the former book lady didn't do that.
(My coworkers rarely give praise directly.)
Big Boss said, "I don't want to get in the way of your happiness, so I didn't want to say anything, but you belong here."
I feel that.
I emailed the bookstore owner this morning, pulling my application, saying the process of applying made me realize I was in the right place, being the thrift store Book Lady.
He wrote back, "It's a great thing to be known as the Book Lady!"
It is, indeed.