Monday, July 23, 2007
Harry Potter and the Deathly Gallows
Sorry all that I left Gallowmere high and dry for the last week or so. I promise, I'll anchor it down and give it a heavy hosing to make up for lost time. I've been busy juggling three projects along with apples, torches, a chainsaw, and knives. I've been productive, and hopefully, I will be able to share the dark fruits of my labour with the world, even if you will all subsequently get sick to your stomachs and keel over, hemorrhaging out your orifices. At least you will be able to enjoy something I am able to talk about without any legal worries, and without worrying about being jinxed by Jinxel, the deity of jinxing.
But anyway, now to talk about what I set out to talk about. Saturday, I endured what is sure to be the final Harry Potter book release day. Operating on four hours sleep, I embarked on an eleven hour marathon, tossing Harry Potter books left and right to rabid fans like explosive frisbees.It was action packed, but not nearly as packed as it should be. A few theories I have are that it is because the nearby drug dealer was selling it for 10 dollars cheaper, the internet is making my part-time job obsolete, and some people see nothing from words but alphabet soup, and would rather watch the movies first. Nonetheless, the place was fairly busy.
The shadowy heads behind the operation must have been preparing for this event for eons. My store, [Pages] was filled with posters, broomsticks, "Buy the book now!" ads, toys, bookends, and other Harryphernalia. There were also ridiculously priced chocolates, and boxes of those jellybeans with eccentric flavours like vomit, sardines, and rotten eggs, which I can only guess are featured in the books. I wouldn't know, because I've never read the books or watched the movies. I don't plan to either. I can't say anything bad about it, but wizards and witchcraft are just not my thing. Also, I don't like stories being told in drawn out series. I'm anti-sequel. So with that in mind, and getting back to the Harryphernalia, employees were "encouraged" to wear Harry Potter Scarves, round lensed glasses, and nametags. Rumour has it, bonuses were offered to people who got permanent scars on their foreheads, and/or legally changed their names to a character name. I didn't dare to dabble with any of that. I did the nametag thing, which was bad enough for me, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself doing the whole shebang.
After all, I'm working for [Bookshelves Inc.] not J.K. Rowling. Though that woman does seem to have some influence. I'm tempted to say, she's more powerful than Winnie Moprah, AKA Oprah Winfrey. I don't think anybody at any store dressed up as fib telling crackheads or whorish housewives. And Harry Potter's becoming quite a religion. Some loonies apparently started a Hogwarts camp which people actually enroll in. And according to my assistant manager, [Veronica Oxford], they had grief counselors handy during the book's premiere in England. Blimey, that's bloody barmy!
But yeah, what a day; intermittent rushes, robotic repetition of greetings and price statements, a technologically illiterate customer getting berated by my colleague [Ariel Schwartz], a series of visits from store regular [Uncle Bonkers] the eccentric Caucasian man with Asperger's Syndrome who dresses up as an Indian woman with painted toes, and who is allegedly growing testostotits. My favourites had to be the phone calls from irate and shortsighted ignoramuses who thought that my small store was responsible for them not getting their books in the mail yet, and not the post office's or even [Bookshelves Inc.]'s fault. I thought the night before, that I would just drop dead during the middle of the shift, coworkers would dress me up in Harry Potter apparel, and toss my corpse out to the customers to distract them, where, after all had been said and done, there'd be nothing left of me but a thread a pair of Harry Potter glasses.
But I held up. Each hour that passed seemed to go by faster and faster. And there were fun bits like consulting wikipedia for the summarized version of it, and seizing opportunities to shell out book spoilers with the complimentary gift cards. I took sick pleasure in watching the snarly faces twisting in my direction, vertebrae snapping. It was like telling a kid there's no Santa, or a Christian fundamentalist that there's no God. Overall, I enjoyed it, the worst thing to come out of it, is that the 'magical' music from the soundtrack which had been playing all day on loop is still playing in my head. Damn you, J.K. Rowling and the Christian controversy peddlers who made the books popular. La-da-di-da-di-da-di-dah...
