Bookkeeping 2

A couple of Saturdays ago I was in the Barnes and Noble store in Campbell, Calif. That’s where my non-fiction book discussion group meets; otherwise I’d be unlikely to go there, since B&N has always struck me as the heir-on-steroids to B. Dalton Bookseller: the literary equivalent of Burger King.

I was early for the meet-up, so I spent some time in the magazine section. Eventually I picked up three: The Economist, Shambhala Sun and WWII History. The latter has a photo of Winston Churchill in uniform on the cover.

As the blonde at the cash register (and, yes, she was a blonde, in her early 20s) rang up my purchases, she commented, “Oh—he looks jolly!”

I glanced at Churchill and agreed, “I guess he does.”

There was a pause, and then she asked, “Who is he?”

“Winston Churchill. Prime Minister of Britain during World War II.”

(I debated whether to explain what World War II was, but decided against it. The meet-up was about to begin and I never know whether to date the war from the Japanese incursion into Manchuria, the Munich Conference or the invasion of Poland.)

I thought I was being neutral, but she felt obliged to explain to me that “I’m more people smart than book smart.” And then, “I like people better than books.”

Naturally, the thought occurred to me that in that case she might have chosen a different retail field. But I reckoned that, after all—they had her at the cash register, and she seemed proficient at operating it. She wasn’t on the floor making reading recommendations.

Still—it does encapsulate why I’ve never cottoned to B&N.