RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,389
(It was their problem, not mine) B&N, pt. SIX
Had a guy there once, one of the older fellows,
natty, always well-dressed, expensively, and
also well-written. He spoke well and had
expensive watches too! Richard Kehoe was
the name, lived with his boyfriend/mate up
in the Sleepy Hollow section of Plainfield.
AT the corner of Belvedere and Watchung, or
close anyway. And he raised dogs; I forget
the breed, but he made nice money selling
them. I liked Richard, and his fancy shirts
and cool sweaters. He was class. Outspoken,
but class no matter. One Winter's day, morning
time, Richard and I were at the info-booth,
just hanging, and a lady walks into the store
all covered in fake fur. Furry boots, a big furry
hat and coat, etc. Poor outspoken Richard
utters, 'Oh! Look at me. I'm faux from head
to toe!' Evidently the punk-little Westfield
lady heard him. She turns on her heel and, to
Richard says, 'I heard that, you rude person,
and I'm going to have a talk with your Store
Manager.' Poor Richard was gone in a week.
He got canned for that one. I was really sorry
to see him go, though he didn't care; the job
and the 'money' were nothing to him, and he
certainly needed neither. Richard died some
years ago. One time, he came back from
vacation and I asked him what he'd been up
to or what he'd done on his time off. He said,
'I read Balzac, all of Balzac, from start to
finish.' Being a wise-ass, I said, 'Oh, I bet
you did (thinking Ball Sac). He thought
that was the funniest joke in the world,
both quick and witty too, and laughed
uproariously! Some people, I noticed,
called him Dick. I could never bring
myself to do that.
-
Sometimes, the best policies on the corporate
level turn out - in a human-level way - to just
suck. I made a lot of cool acquaintances in that
store, kids, and outsiders too. The kids used
to surprise me, often enough, by the levels of
emotional turmoil they all seemed to be dealing
with, or going through. Much of it was stuff I
couldn't fully understand or deal with. Even in
2005, there were plenty of gender-issues crises
underway, and some few flipped around, almost
at will. Males into effeminates, and the other way
around. Blue hair, green hair, nose and earrings
and piercings, and more. A few of them led me
to new knowledge fields, like reading Paul Bowles,
whom I'd never read before. There were also a
number of big Bukowski fans, who I always
thought was an asshole poet, and that opinion
I never changed. A nice friend of mine, Erica,
whose boyfriend, Eric, also worked there, loved
William Wegman and his dog photos (Weimaraners).
Wegman would do up his dog(s), in all sorts of crazy
and outlandish get-ups. Erica's mother also collected
or raised Orchids, which I'd never known anything
about before. A really interesting flower.
-
The closest and most funny guy I had working
with me was a guy named Brad. Oddly quirky,
let's say to a degree: But the smartest, wittiest
and amenable sort of guy, short of....me? I took
to Brad, as he did to me; we made a good team,
making things up, rhyming words, songs, riffing
on and on about most anything. Technically, Brad
just barely made it through the everyday world,
but I sort of helped him along, and often blocked
for him too. Someone was always getting ready
to drive down hard on him. I also saved his job
once or twice, and got to know his parents a little
bit too. Brad had a long row to hoe, but he's
made it through real well. I still have contact
with him, happy to say. They eventually moved
Brad over to the Music Department, where he
was an absolute natural.
-
Brad had many minds about many things, and
we talked a lot. Mostly trying to keep others
OUT of wrecking the conversations - they had
a tendency always to somehow degenerate into
some abusive crap at Brad's expense. My little
mix of Receiving Room people was diverse and
always interesting. Many people sought to work
there (it wasn't up to me), but few were chosen.
Here's how it went : when people arrived for a
job and, if hired, it seemed they'd be a lousy fit,
or weren't good at presentation or talking, or
slouched and dragged, or weren't real 'attractive'
(face it, that counted too), they'd be assigned to
Receiving, at least for a try. I never minded,
and I've always felt that salt-of-the-Earth
people better fit my liking anyway; better
then the hoity-toits with their faux furs
anyway. Plus, we'd never get the real sort
of intellectual-genius striver types; they were
probably all in university already. I enjoyed my
company, and found many and numerous ways
to influence and deal with peoples' heads and
humors. I was pretty much, also, liked, as a
person and a character.
-
I'm not the kind who goes around explaining
myself, and, from the years 1999 to 2005/6,
this was a vastly different environment to
learn within than were the next 11 years at
Princeton. Bewteeen the two 'aspects' of book
selling and merchandising, there was to be,
obviously, no comparison, nor equivalency.
I merely stayed with the two very different
flows and - sometimes somehow - managed
to stay on. There was a wonderful woman I
worked with too, Andretta. I never really did
know how she was assigned to me, but it was a
great mix. She was super-intelligent, well-read,
well-educated, and wise too. Her husband was
a trauma-unit doctor, in the ragged depths of
crime-infested Newark. She come out of the
south, Georgia or somewhere, went to university
I think in Atlanta - or Emory or somewhere,
and collected native Africa fabrics and art, on
her occasional trips there. Andretta was a
deep-enough and understanding person, and
with the Brad situation, she too could often
smell personality-trouble brewing, and we'd
manage to talk it down and head it off
before the big-shit started flying.
-
The section of the store in my keep was, I'd
say, unique, and it had its problems too. One of
them was me. I hated taking dictates from others
about penny-ante stuff, and a lot of it I just ignored.
I'd get uppity sometimes and start mouthing off
about one thing or another, but the store manager
at that time, Sue, always had a push-back manner
that settled me. There were others too - Roger, as
a for instance. People I'd not forget. At times I was
so attached to that job, even on salary, that I'd stay
on, way past my hours, and he'd simply enforce the
rules and send me home. Twice he even forced me
to take my vacation time. Imagine that!
-
One bugbear I always fought was 'security.' Granted,
there were rules, and I always ignored them. Alarming
the rear doors, alarming the Receiving Bay latches, etc.
That was something I always ignored, and we worked,
mostly always, with the back doors wide open. It was
great - airy, light, busy, and cosy! Actually I felt I
better security that way - longer sight-lines out into
the truck bays and two dumpsters. One of the ways
of stealing books (by employees, and just one way),
was to walk trash out to the dumpster (we were always
dumping cardboard, flattened boxes, and displays,
into the dumpster shed), take the purloined book(s)
with you, and go back to the dumpster later and
simply retrieve it from where you'd left it. It was
done, and I knew who was doing it, and kept a watch.
I won't say I ever stopped it, but I knew who they
were, and what was underway. People are what they
are, and will do what they do. I never felt a need to
interdict. It was their problem, not mine.
-------------------------
NEXT CHAPTER, Metuchen Tom and the Potboilers!
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