Day one today at The Place of Books. Having previous experience in such a setting, I shelved like a motherfucking bitch-whore.

I... don't know why I used that term as a positive.

But shelving is great. It's totally like those puzzles where you have to piece a picture together by sliding the little squares around. Though much, much easier. I can never solve those fucking things.

So I'm beginning the first stages of what will be a MASSIVE rearrangement of part of the fiction section, when Miss T walks by, glances down at what I'm doing, and stops.

"Um. Are you leaving those there?"

"... Pshhh. No. I was just setting them there so I could get these other ones in."

"Oh thank god, you almost gave me a heart attack! I was like, 'Steele does NOT belong next to Sparks!'"

"Haha, I know, huh?!"

She continues on.

... Man, I was sooo gunna leave those there. I'm a little terrified that I will be working under Nazi reign during the most stressful time of the year. At Chapters it was a little better; there were literally a hundred employees, and as such blame was difficult to delegate. Here, there are like, ten. So if something gets fucked up, we are all. Going. To pay.


If I'm not getting nailed to the MAX in the next 15 minutes, I am going to kill everyone withinin a ten-foot radius.