Monday, October 29, 2007

SPOddities.

I'm about a month into my new position at Borders. Officially, I've moved from being a bookseller to a member of IPT, the group o kids who are in charge of taking stuff out of boxes and putting it on shelves. Actually, my new job is rather specialized: I get my own email address and my own desk full of interesting treasures (such as a dozen box cutters, a phone list for employees from when the store first opened, gold stickers with 79¢ printed on them), and lots of random responsibilities without any more money than I was making when I spent two hours of my average day leaning on the register, staring into space. Ah well.

One thing that's turned out to be a little weird about the SPO job is how much I now know about our regular customers. There's the obvious: emails, phone numbers, and preferred spellings of ridiculous names. But then there's the odd trivia. There's a lady who buys only cowboy romances, usually with three or four open orders at any given time. There's an old woman who seems to order based on the "I remember this, I should buy it" logic. Last time I talked to her on the phone, she described some generic plot points to me with the hope that I could name the movie for her. There's a guy who orders books about meditation that always arrive smelling of Nag Champa.

And then there's this guy:

I imagine him to be a tall, scrawny Indian fellow from England whose hair is a little to slicky and whose laugh is 40% brash and 60% mortified. And he's obsessed with Mariah Carey. Over the past two weeks he has placed about 15 orders for Mariah Carey products. Sometimes he orders twice to make sure he gets what he wants. There are the CDs you'd expect, of course: albums, best of's and the like. And there are DVDs: movies she's starred in, live concerts, and cheaply produced documentaries of her career from random music channels. And then there are the books. These books are almost all in what we in the biz call "Library Binding." Unlike normal hardcovers, with usually come with a dust jacket or something equally classy, these books have the cover art imprinted on the cardboard and then shellacked for protection. They have identical pictures of Mariah on the front and bear titles like Mariah Carey: Her Story. I imagine they are meant to inspire young girls, little divas-in-training. I do not know what my English Indian gentleman wants with them.

And, not knowing, I feel as if I know far too much.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Read my friends!

As I'm sure every single person reading this blarg knows, while Mike was at CSULB he spent a lot of his time and energy in the office of The Union Weekly, the student-run newspaper on campus. While there, he (and I) made a slew of awesome and extremely talented friends. How awesome? Well, four out of the ten members of our combined wedding party were Unionites. How talented? Well, they are, as a group, some of the best writers I've read. They're also really really funny and stupidly intelligent. They're also frustratingly underrated by the world outside the campus doors.

Take our good friend and favorite bud-bud J.J. Fiddler. When he took over the Union sports section in 2005, he revitalized a previously worthless page and made it one of the pages I turned to most eagerly each week. In 2006 he single-handedly, through the power of his editorials and a healthy amount of sheer determination, made CSULB basketball something to fill the student section over. And besides being the kind of guy people in college gear want to follow into gymnasiums, J.J. is a flat-out exceptional writer.

When The District Weekly started up in Long Beach approximately 27 weeks ago, it seemed like the perfect fit for a lot of Union alums. Their whole mission statement revolves around reporting culture and life in a Long Beach-specific context. And who knows better about Long Beach life than the amazing writers who'd spent their college careers talking about it? Certainly the editorial staff of the District, who produce a great publication, don't get me wrong, seem to miss out on some of the big things that make Long Beach not only great, but unique. It's not just all about cool hole-in-the-wall bars or art galleries. Sometimes it's stuff that makes the cover of one of the nation's most popular magazines.

In 2005 Sports Illustrated named Long Beach Poly High the top sports high school in America. Generally, my alma mater has a great athletics department that has produced national legends. Billie Jean King and Tony Gwynn both came through Poly's gates. But it would be impossible to talk about Poly sports without leaving 90% of the talking time for the Poly varsity football team which, as a public school, has sent more players to the NFL than any other high school in the country. And, though Poly is far and away the best football team in Long Beach (no bias here), it certainly isn't the only school playing the game.

Doesn't this seem like something The District, the self-proclaimed voice of the people of Long Beach, should be talking about? Or rather, since J.J. has been covering Moore League games since the start of the season, shouldn't it be something The District and its readers should be reading and paying attention to? As opposed to, say, ignoring and/or talking shit on?

Yeah, I think so too. Check J.J. out over at the Long Beach Post where he gives his mid-season Moore League report. And read him at The District too. He's doing a great job with not a lot of room to run. If this were the Union, I'd be all over that message board. Since it's not, I'll rant here instead and send my droves of readers to do my work for me.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

The prices of things

So, I'm almost done with my second week back at work. It's an odd, but mostly pleasant experience to be back to a daily grind-esque sort of schedule with the wonderful addition of a real live hubby to come home to. The daily grind part is odd. I'm working 9-5 now, as opposed to the random assortment of 8 hour shifts starting at 7 am on some days and ending at midnight on others. While I was gone, there were about 6 new hires, and about 4 of the people I had expected to see again have quit. So it's a different place than it was when I left, but that's ok. I'm different too, after all.

This week I started training for my new position: Special Orders Troll of Borders at the Pike. I'm pretty sure that's the official title, although it might be "goblin." Turns out a lot of this new job involves waiting around for things to happen. There are orders to be processed in the morning, and then it's mostly waiting for shipments to arrive, usually around the middle of the day. So I think I'm going to be bored, probably a lot. We'll see... training is a lot different than the real thing.

Today I found a book called something like Long Beach in Vintage Postcards or somesuch. Flipping it open, I was struck by what a bustling area downtown Long Beach, especially the Pike and its surroundings used to be. Now, of course, not so much the case. It breaks my heart to direct inquisitive customers to the Wal-Mart up the street, but it's by far the closest music store, electronics store, clothing store, and office supply store. Lame.

Here's something that's not so lame: there was a postcard of a beautiful downtown Long Beach building that rented out apartments for $32 a month. A buddy at work pays $800 a month for his studio apartment. Bored, I figured it out. The 1925 apartment cost 4% of what the 2007 apartment does. For shits & giggles, I estimated the cost of a gallon of milk, a pack of cigarettes, and a few other common items. Then I performed the essential calculation:

5318008 x .04 = 212720.32

That's right. In 1925, the approximate cost of seeing "boobies" upside-down in the calculator was just a tad over 200 thousand. Amazing.

Boobies.