The Reed and Right Bookstore

Fred was working at a bookstore-chain, “Reed and Right.” He loved it. In fact, in some ways it was his dream job. Not because he liked reading books, he didn’t, at least not those with a heap of text. It was the fringe benefits that came with it. He took a long whiff out of a box he was carrying, before tipping the books into one of the many bargain bins. He leant over the bin, gently closing his eyes and inhaling again.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff!” Fred whispered to himself. Whatever it was, the glue, the ink or maybe just that freshly pulped endangered tree. It smelt great!

Fred’s Manager walked past and grinned, “Keep up the good work Fred, at the rate you’re going, there might just be a little salary review around the corner!” Of course, his manager was talking about his own salary review, not Fred’s. In fact, Fred hadn’t received a raise in over 5 years and with inflation taken into account, his real salary had probably diminished by about 10 per cent.

“Thanks Boss!” Fred eagerly replied. He shuffled a few books, to pretend he was putting them into some kind of order. Not that it mattered. They were all surplus books, from authors and publishers whose only hope would be if a customer was willing to judge a book by its cover. Unfortunately, most of the covers were equally as bad as the contents. But a price tag “Was $44.95, now $2.95!!!” was often the clincher for many a savvy customer. Of course, buyer’s remorse was only a page away. But they were also enticed by the catchy slogans on posters, like “Buy 2, get 5 free,” or “Opened to brave reviews!” and “Times New Roman font right to the end!”

Of course, sorting books in the bargain bins wasn’t strictly part of Fred’s job description, but he firmly believed in value adding, that was part of the reason he dated his bosses daughter. Chelsea was an ugly thing, but his Boss had set them up and told him “keep her happy if you know what’s good for you.” Fred was still trying to work out if that meant. Did it mean she would be a good girlfriend if she was happy, or that he would lose his job if she gave a bad review to his Boss? But Fred had always been the perfect gentleman, offering flowers on each date, then chocolates when Chelsea demanded something edible. She was an out of shape thing too and terribly angry when she didn’t get her sugar fix. They hadn’t had sex yet, Chelsea had said she was “saving herself.” But Fred wasn’t too fussed, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it with her, just that the mechanics of it seemed impractical in terms of what he had seen on the internet. He just couldn’t see Chelsea being flexible enough to put her legs behind her ears, even if he did put a chocolate bar on the ceiling for motivation.

“Ahh women!” Fred would say in the lunchroom, to the un-shaven Janitor, who had never been in a relationship himself. Neither were sure what that was supposed to mean, but they both nodded their heads in agreement.

“You know Frood,” said the Janitor, “in da millions of story tellin’ bouks in dis place, I reckon yours could beat em awll.”

Fred put his hands over his head and leant back in the cheap plastic lunch room seat, as he processed the Janitor’s complement. “I try not to kiss and yell,” he said. He faded off as he repeated himself to add story telling effect, “I try not to kiss and yell.”