Skip to main content

Another one bites the dust

I hear a rumour that another valuable and, therefore obligatorily undervalued employee of a local branch of a national chain has handed in his or her notice due to the continued incompetence of the higher echelons and the constant underestimation of the relative talents of their workforce. This letter was intercepted on its way to the manager of an independent book shop for whom said employee was re-aligning his or her loyalties:
“Dear Sir,
I have been reliably informed that you have snatched one of the finest bookselling talents of this or any generation from the cold embrace of a local branch of a national chain (currently resisting asset-stripping) who can ill afford to lose such a gem. I am appalled.
This is not how "independents" should undermine chain bookstores. Rather than kicking them when they're down, one should let them destroy themselves with mindless bureaucracy, reckless mismanagement, rampant toadyism and blind bookselling ignorance, as evidenced by the collapse of that other chain, the example of which the former chain is quickly following. I hope you at least send flowers to Tim Waterstone when his erstwhile plaything finally gives up the ghost.
In the meantime, please ensure that you only pay the standard bookselling minimum wage (we wouldn't want this person getting a big head) and force him or her to work every weekend and holiday, religious and secular, so that the change in environments does not overwhelm. In this manner, his or her distress will be managed appropriately.
Bon courage, et bon chance.”
Confusingly, this is a dead cat.
Is that relevant? No.
The cat's not relevant.
What a world. Not only does a valued resource, for the general public and professionals alike, risk wasting away until brittle and therefore attractive enough for someone to come in and shatter and disseminate the real estate for the best financial return, the unintelligibly loyal staff is slowly but surely being destroyed by an uncomprehending behemoth, self-confidence milled to dust and expectations eroded to sand. And that is the real tragedy. Chains come and go, subject to the prevailing forces of a liberal market economy, and any emotional attachment is the delusional product of a yearning for better times, for softer edges on our pointy and jagged self-serving world. But this unexpectedly resilient fasces of like-minded book lovers is being whittled away, corroded by the acid spittle of unfeeling market-led monsters. “Our first responsibility is to the share holder,” I’m told via email, “and therefore to the continued strength of our share price.” Well, I have 9 shares, and their strength is flagging. Plus, I don’t get any dividend from the sale of real estate – all I get is the added incentive to buy my books on-line, or, if I’m feeling a little lost, in a place like Rossiter Books in Ross-on-Wye, my new non-local local book shop.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Rage, rage against the piling up of shite.

It’s Local Election Day in Cardiff, and on my way out with the dog, I am greeted by the smiling faces of the Liberal Democrats’ Plasnewydd Focus Team. I had naively believed that I might go one day without being harassed by the Liberal Democrats, but obviously today was not going to be that day. Nonetheless, it was the final straw for me and my paper-thin patience. A little history, and some contemporaneous comment, would be useful right about now I think. The Lib Dems have led the council in Cardiff since 2004. My sources in the Welsh Conservative Party have indicated that they are about to take a complete pasting in today’s local election, with Labour way out in front, likely to come close to the 50 members they had back in 1999. In my opinion, this is a justified spanking. And yet I am unable to justify this on a political level. According to some of the bombastic nonsense that comes through my door unbidden every single day of the week and often on weekends too, ...
2 comments
There's a bit missing...

Bike sheds and urinal ettiquette

I noticed something today, something that I had previously ignored, on locking up my practical (in every sense except cost-effective) bicycle this morning in the bike shed provided by my place of work. When I entered the enclosure (see diagram 1 below), I realised that nearly every other bike hoop had been taken, so I started thinking about which space it would be most proper to appropriate for myself. Normally, at 8.15am this is a mere formality, as I park in a nearly empty bike shed at the far end, directly underneath the security camera. Today, I'd dropped off le petit monstre at his nursery (that is not an euphemism for anything before you begin) and so was a few minutes later than is usual, hence the rather replete shed.  What am I doing? I thought to myself, this is not a toilet, just take the first space available. Diagram 1. Our shed has a nifty half-pipe style roof.  Great for  nearly keeping the weather out, bad for  bashing  helmets...
Post a Comment
There's a bit missing...

Stay angry, people.

Ed's dead, baby. Borrowed, with thanks, from the Independent I was unsure whether or not to write a post, post-election, on my post-election blues. For the most part, this was because I'm sure that political commentators, bloggers, activists, and people with far more understanding of the political landscape and the effect that the latest result would have on the lives of those for whom the spectre of a Tory government was only a bad dream, a shade that haunted at night when the lights burned low and the wolves howled at the door, had already used all of the adjectives and metaphors of despair in ways far more eloquent than anything I might come up with. I find however that I must say something, even if it doesn't help matters, to explain to myself more than anyone else why it is I feel so miserable. I will probably have no right to bemoan a Conservative government - my country still has a socialist leader, in theory if not in practice - particularly as I did very littl...
Post a Comment
There's a bit missing...