The Book Shop Terror

There was a time when we worked at a book shop together. Nothing fancy, but considering jobs I've had, this one was more on the glorious side than most. Relatively smart customers, a part of life(media) I had always connected to, largely attractive staff...things, in a way, were really flying high.

"Let's not panic," one manager said. "We're gonna be fine," claimed another.

Ever the curmudgeon, I tended not to believe them.

In probably less than a week's time after these assertions were made by the higher-ups in this once-cozy store, the abomination who would dash our dreams arrived. He was of a fairly muscular build, middle-aged, and save for his salt-and-pepper hair and somewhat stern features, resembled this man more than a tiny bit:

And suddenly, it came. Liquidation. Our chain being bought out by another. Where once we had been surrounded by the familiar magazines, fantasy novels, manga volumes--even the romance section was massive--now were increasingly empty spaces, forging a dark parallel with our hearts, all of them now being emptied of joy, pride, and hope. What had been a location housing some comparatively relaxed work atmosphere and camaraderie among mostly-not-so-hostile co-workers decayed into a sad, uncaring dungeon from which we were lucky to have the means to escape.

Our scheduled hours soon followed. Some sympathetic customers would come in, offering condolences after decades of this being among their favorite places to shop. This was, of course, to no avail. Even the shifts of those in managerial positions dried up eventually. I was not among the last five to be forced out, by any stretch, and yet I can still, years later, hear their wails of pain as they made their moves, seeking out work in nearby retailers; candle shops and rival book sellers were among the places some attempted migration to. Their sanity in tatters, various positions were resorted to.

In what seemed to us like no time at all, this mullet-wielding monster had taken it all away. There was nothing to do but acknowledge defeat in bitter resignation, picking up the scraps of humanity we hoped to retain from that moment on.