Would any of YOU like to hire me?
Ugh. I have been putting this entry off. It's just too much at the moment, you know? UGGGGGH.
So my company is definitely going under. I am in serious job-hunt mode. Luckily, people are tripping over themselves to poach me - I guess four years in management was worth it after all (ugh)! But I am so, so sad to be leaving, and sad that my company is dying in the first place.
Angus & Robertson has been around for over 100 years, and no, we're not a fucking hip inner-city indie bookshop, and yes, we do sell masses of bullshit like Meyer and Patterson and Child, but I don't give a fuck. There's been a lot of commentary about how this is a triumph of the little indies over the big bad chain stores, but that shit seriously pisses me off. You know why? Book snobbery INFURIATES me. Reading is for everyone. Reading is as much for mums in the suburbs as it is for skinny city hipsters. And where are the independent bookshops in the burbs? Where are they in the regional areas? Oh that's right, they aren't. So when a teenage girl living in the outer Eastern suburbs decides to actually pick up a book for once in her life, we're who she sees as she trails along after her friends at the local shopping centre. She comes into MY shop, and she says, oh hey, that popular vampire show I like is based on a book? That's kind of cool. And then she wants to read more books like that. And then she wants to branch out a little. And suddenly this girl who didn't care at all is a reader for life, and that's because not only could I sell her something she recognises, I could then lead her towards other things, and more and more things.
And yeah, it's for the mums who have three kids and no time to themselves. They've got half an hour in the evening to read the latest John Grisham book, something they can dip into, something that they know they'll like because John Grisham has been writing the same fucking book for twenty years. And it's for the bloke who wants to read his favourite footy player's biography. It's for the old women who only reads popular biographies, like Parky or Cunxin or Michael J. Fox. Those sweet old biddies who catch the bus in every Thursday because we're the closest shop to them and they want to spend their pension cheque. They can't shop online or travel 45 minutes into a hip inner city shop that smells like snobbery and incense, and which won't have anything they want, and won't have anyone who will kindly listen to their old-lady ramblings before giving them a Mitch Albom.
So we're failing because of bad business management, and because we never should have bought Borders, and because the discount stores buy their books in bulk and sell them below RRP to undercut us, and because books in Australia are so fucking expensive that even with the exchange rate and postage it's cheaper to buy them from the States on Amazon. We're failing because of the economic crash, and because luxuries are the first to go, and because people get all their shit online. We're failing because so many people just don't give a fuck about books anymore.
And it is so depressing.
SIGH.
Okay! Enough complaining about that! There is nothing I can do about it. All I can do is keep applying to other jobs, and try and take care of my staff as best I can. And read awesome Brad/Ray porn on the internet.
Argh! The Brad/Ray has been SO GREAT this week! I'm on the wrong computer for doing lots of links and recs, but there is for sure a recs post coming up, because the internet has OUTDONE itself. Give me a few days. There is stuff that needs my love and adoration.
For now, though, I am going to bed. Thank you, LJ, for listening to me rant. I'm so worn out that I am sure this is only, like, 50% coherent, but I know you will all forgive me. Right?
<3
Beck