I've Been Busy

Our esteemed employer, Sam, has a variety of methods for letting you know he's displeased with you. There's the obvious shouting and waving of arms - admittedly it's mostly Malcolm who suffers this sort of abuse; there's the low growl in his chest that permeates the shop, echoing off the shelves, which is often heard after a customer asks if we stock any Dan Brown novels; there's the quiet, inventive swearing that follows those rare occasions when a seller persuades Sam to part with more money than he wants to - I once had to look up in a medical dictionary a word that Sam had used to describe someone and actually blushed upon reading the definition.

And then there's the cold, hard glare accompanied by glacial silence.

That's what I've been getting for the last couple of days.

One has been very kind to me - she's been making me tea and listening to me babble on and on about my woes - but Sam, I've discovered, has little sympathy for the broken hearted. As One has previously mentioned, these last few weeks I've been - I admit - head over heels with a lady friend whom I met through the shop. She had come in and asked about a certain author, I had offered my opinion and simply chatted with her. A few days later, to my surprise, we were out on our first date.

She started spending time at the shop, got on with both One and Malcolm (who are both excellent judges of character) and everything was going fine until . . .

Until it wasn't. She broke up with me a few days ago and hasn't been in the shop since. While One has been a good and reassuring friend, Sam has been giving me the cold stare and silent treatment. One actually approached him earlier today and asked why he was annoyed with me.

"Love at his age is a fleeting thing. It arrives quickly and then leaves but will always be replaced by a new one given time," he said, stacking some books. "Customers, however, once lost will never return."

The moral of Sam's story: never date a customer.