Today, just before I left work, one of the managers called an impromptu meeting. →[More:] Apparently, some employee has been using tile grout to draw huge graffitti tags on the wall of the employee bathrooms. Vandalizing the store is apparently a fireable offense. Good to know. Although on the little paper sign on the toilet tank reading 'Remember To Flush" or something, somebody's drawn a lot of little pictures of penises in ballpoint. Nobody's complained about those.

Also, there's this unkempt mentally ill (how exactly, I'm not sure) dude of about 21, who'd been bothering one of the girls who maintains the display tables. "He started off amusingly weird and got creepy," she said. A week ago he was banned from the store. He came up to the buying desk today to talk to the managers. He thought he could could come back 'because Mom said so." "Your mom dosen't decide these things." "Well, I won't be back Tuesday or Wednesday." "You won't be back ever" "Well, then, and I mean this, Merry Christmas..." (for best results imagine in the voice of Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker after inhaling a tankful of helium.) Another guy who had loudly cussed out one of the managers previously, tried to sneak back in using the cloaking device of wearing a fucking hat. The manager saw through this elaborate subterfuge and told a guard to 'get this deadbeat outta here!' Sometimes I wonder whether I work in a bookstore or an asylum.

(also, I ordered this book from a seller on bn.com a few days ago. It's shipped already, but it hasn't arrived yet. It's being shipped from Texas, how long could that take, for pete's sake? I've read it before and loved it, then lost my copy, so I really want it again. It was published in Canada only (the author is legendary Canadian writer Mordecai Richler's son), so it's hard to find in the States. I also found this book in a box today. Definitely getting that one on payday.)