It was a nightmare. Fortunately, the doctor says it’s just a bad sprain, and that I’ll be able to walk on it okay by Monday. The wife’s a little battered – she must have intercepted about a hundred elbows at one point – and my daughter’s okay. Turns out she won’t need stitches after all.
You know, if one is going to publicize and advertise and wave the flag to get a thousand people into a bookstore to buy a book…
…one should make sure the store will hold a thousand people.
…one should make sure all the registers are working.
…one should have EVERY goddamn employee there and on call.
…one should have some sort of plan for how one is going to distribute the books to this thousand people, particularly the ones who reserved copies ahead of time.
…and most importantly… one should have plenty of books. As opposed to less than 300.
Having them all wait around for several hours before you give them any information about where to line up doesn’t help. It’s even worse when you tell them to go line up in one place, and it turns out there’s not enough room, and then you tell them to go line up somewhere else. By the time they were ready to distribute the books, the mood wasn’t good. It didn’t help that someone had leaked the fact that they didn’t have very many copies for sale, either… in the middle of the party.
Miracle the fire department didn’t close the place down. Then again, they didn’t have time. After the riot started, the cops dispersed everyone, and by the time things died down, the place was well under its minimum legal capacity.
We did get two copies, though. As well as a stubbed toe, a black eye, a constellation of bruises, one rather long shallow scratch, and a nastily sprained ankle. And there’s some question as to whether or not I’m going to have to pay for the display I destroyed. At one point, I had to climb on top of a stack of Stephen King hardbacks and hold the little wizardy sonsabitches off. There was a metal rack of collector bookmarks handy; I found that once I picked it up and shook all the bookmarks out, it made a fine long bludgeon, handy for knocking the little bastards off the display when they got cheeky. MY books, you poisonous little costumed turds! MINE!
I was doing FINE until someone’s mother realized that they could unbalance me by simply yanking one of the bottom copies of Stephen King out of the stack… goddamn avalanche. Hell, they ought to make HER pay for those books. I didn’t hurt them until I slid down the pile on my ass. And nobody said boo to that guy who pitched the magazine display through the plate glass window to get his children to safety. I KNOW that has to be more expensive than a stack of five-year-old Dark Tower books.
Hmmph. Cops said it’s because HE was trying to ESCAPE, to get his family to safety. Well, so was I! My family was already outside, but I was cut off… and I had the Harry Potter books! If the little shits had left me ALONE for ten seconds, I was TRYING to get to the top of the stacks! From there, I could have made it into the suspended ceiling, and from there to safety!
But NO, the little monsters kept trying to get the BOOKS away from me, and forced me to defend myself and my property. And did their mothers stop them? HELL, no! They were standing at the back, DIRECTING STRATEGY, sending the little bastards at me in WAVES! “Tommy and Unit Bravo, cut left and flank him while that kid in the pointy hat immobilizes his ankle! Watch that bookmark rack!”
Bastards.
And no one’s even pressing CHARGES against the guy who set off the sprinkler systems. They say he was a hero, for not only dispersing the crowd and getting them outside, but for putting out the fires as well. Uh-huh. Ruined a million bucks worth of books, too, but nobody’s asking HIM to pay for it all.
Good thing mine were already in a plastic bag by then. When they finally dug me out of the burning rubble, the books were in terrific shape.
Ah, well.
At least I have something to read while I convalesce…
Oh, no, wait, I’m lying through my teeth.
They DID have enough copies, oddly enough, although it was a near thing. The crowd DID get kind of ugly at one point – being told to shuffle from one part of the store to the other naturally resulted in lost places in line, and some people weren’t happy about it, especially when told to go shuffle someplace else because there wasn’t enough room in the place they’d been told to shuffle to at first.
Then a register died, and they started shunting people to one of the other registers. Without informing the crowd of what was going on. When a guy just wandered up and cut into an existing line, it began to look like things MIGHT get out of hand for a minute, until the book manager – sweet li’l thing in a witch outfit, looked like she might have been all of twenty – cooled the crowd off by explaining the situation. In a trembling voice. It’s hard to get mad at someone who’s obviously in WAY over their head, and utterly terrified.
Shortly thereafter, the cops showed up. No one got out of hand. No property was damaged. Dunno about stolen, though – the wife and I discussed about how if one wished to shoplift half the world out the front door, you could hardly pick a better time than when there’s a zillion people jammed in there, the employees all wish they could fly or clone themselves, and it’s perfectly all right for grown people to wear huge black cloaks and hats you could hide a birthday cake inside.
It was actually pretty fun, though… until about eleven-thirty. That’s when things began to get weird, and they didn’t much cool off until an hour later, when the lines really got moving, and it began to look like everyone was going to get a book.
We actually hung around outside for quite a while, just to see if all hell was going to break loose if and when they ran out. They didn’t run out.
We didn’t feel quite brave or motivated enough to go back this morning, though…