Borders

Just home from a final, bittersweet trip to Borders. I wandered – touching books & delighting in  gift items.

I’ll miss you, mustache pencil box! Why oh why did you not have a companion iPhone case? I would have paid good money for one of those.

While hovering around the YA section (thinking about how my books will NEVER get the chance to be groped by a thirty-something like myself in a Borders store) I ran into a kid…more of a man really, who used to work for me. At a record shop.

A record shop that went out of business 5 years ago.

Talk about bad luck! Granted, he left the shop before I did & has been at Borders these 11 years. When he started at Borders the company paid for Adoption. They paid benefits for Life Partners. They carried import albums.

But not anymore.

Today I walked around my favorite local bookstore – yes, Borders is my local bookstore. I saw beloved books by wonderful authors. I even went so far as to approach a teenaged girl who had Mockingjay in her hands, forcing her to pick up a copy of Divergent by Veronica Roth…

“Trust me,” I said. “You want to read this book.”

An echo of the days when I could hand a teenaged boy a copy of Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and say – “Trust me, this album will change your life.”

Apparently I’m a pusher.

What will be next? And where will my former employee end up? Will whatever job he lands in be the next industry to tank? Is this all his fault? And where can I go to impose my opinions about stuff?

If you see someone in the produce section of the grocery store approaching random shoppers…it’s probably me.

“Trust me, this is the best melon you will ever eat.”

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