Scruffy

Years ago I worked in a B. Dalton Bookseller. (This is a great slacker job by the way, but that's a subject for another day.)

Some of you may not remember B. Dalton. I haven't seen a B. Dalton store in years – the chain seems to have been absorbed and replaced by the Barnes and Nobel Book superstores, but back in the day B. Dalton was the largest chain of bookstores in the world. Every mall and many strip centers had a B. Dalton store.

If you love books then a bookstore is an awesome place to work, endless access to reading material to feed your jones. Magazines for current events, books about history, books about science, books about anything you can imagine. A wise bookstore employee can parlay his or her time there into the equivalent of a classical education.

Here's the bad thing though: The pay is crap

Now when you work at an independent book store your boss knows the pay is crap. Hell, at an independent bookstore the store owner may make less than the employees. Because of this dress codes tend to be pretty easy going. Beards, sandals, and hippie clothes are typically a-ok.

When you work for a bookstore chain you work for a corporation. A RETAIL corporation. Retail corporations have dress codes based on “professional” standards. We're talking suits and ties here gang. We're talking designer clothes for women. We're talking money.

Did I mention that as an assistant store manager I made pennies over the minimum wage? 1980's minimum wage. Three bucks an hour minimum wage.

So one day a corporate overlord makes a store visit. This is a corporate drone who is pulling down heavy cash, more than 100 grand per year. Naturally, he writes a report of his visit and in this report he notes that the assistant manager (me) was “scruffy.”

What was I wearing? Dress pants, dress shirt, and tie. From K-Mart.

Scruffy.

That rankled. Even now – nearly thirty years later -- it still rankles.

You know I probably was (and probably still am) “scruffy.” I hate shaving. I can't afford to buy my clothes at boutiques or department stores. Hell, in this economy I can't afford to buy clothes at Walmart. I buy my clothes at Goodwill or the ARC. Thrift stores.

Scruffy.

When I worked at that store I knew where every title in the store was located. I was one of those bookstore employees that people ask for because I was the master of the store. Did the report note that? No.

It did note that I was “scruffy.”

And some people wonder why I hate authority.