What would Nancy Spungen do?
Mar. 12th, 2006 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceI worked at the bookstore until closing time tonight, for the first time, I think, since the HP release party. It's very hard for me to work late nights on Saturdays when the rest of my week is pretty early, and so I was expecting to be pretty cranky come, say, nine pm or so, but thanks to an unexpected convergence of Good Things--working with my favorite manager, finally remembering to return the book I'd checked out months ago so I could check out another one, things like that--it really wasn't so bad at all.
A strange thing happened to me, though. I was zoning back in the children's department (for those of you unschooled in BN jargon, this means scanning books and pulling some for returns, alphabetizing, dusting, things like that), and a boy, maybe about fourteen, walked up, picked up the post-it pad we use to return damaged books from where it sat on the floor beside me, stole a page from it, and walked away again without saying a word. And then about ten minutes later he did it again. I mean, it's not even as though the sticky notes would come in handy--they're preprinted and there's not much free space on them--and there was a blank post-it pad also on the floor, and I was hoping he would come back by so I could ask him what on earth he was doing, but I never saw him again. It was all very mysterious.
This late-night update brought to you by a 16-ounce iced caramel latte, without which I would even now be asleep in my snug little bed.
A strange thing happened to me, though. I was zoning back in the children's department (for those of you unschooled in BN jargon, this means scanning books and pulling some for returns, alphabetizing, dusting, things like that), and a boy, maybe about fourteen, walked up, picked up the post-it pad we use to return damaged books from where it sat on the floor beside me, stole a page from it, and walked away again without saying a word. And then about ten minutes later he did it again. I mean, it's not even as though the sticky notes would come in handy--they're preprinted and there's not much free space on them--and there was a blank post-it pad also on the floor, and I was hoping he would come back by so I could ask him what on earth he was doing, but I never saw him again. It was all very mysterious.
This late-night update brought to you by a 16-ounce iced caramel latte, without which I would even now be asleep in my snug little bed.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 07:49 pm (UTC)And speaking of Mr. Top Model, I had another hilarious episode with him that involved "the correct stance for Riverdancing". Note to self: don't bring lively Celtic tunes into the classroom for "drawing to music" episodes. It occurs to me that perhaps one of the reasons I can't maintain good classroom control is that I can't resist situations like this. If a big, lunky kid is flailing his upper arms and trying to pass it off as traditional Irish dancing, the correct thing to do is to tell him to sit down and get back to work, not give him the "everything above the knees must remain still" pointer and try to get him to sit down and get back to work afterwards.