Do you remember your first time?
Yesterday was my first signing at a book store. But not the fancy kind. Not big hardwood table in the center of a massive Barnes & Noble, with a complimentary cappuccino and a line of fans waiting outside in the cold. Rather, it was a little Waldenbooks in a mall.
. . . .
- 3 different people asked me where the restrooms were. Apparently I looked like a mall information specialist.
- One older gentleman talked my ear off about the many manuscripts he’d written over the years, including one where teenagers dig tunnels under a cemetery to rob the caskets from beneath of jewelry and other valuables. He was a nice enough guy, but he pretty much blocked my table from other passers by.
- A lady asked me where they had the store “with the massage type chairs”.
- Another lady asked me if she could use her debit card at the ATM around the corner.
. . . .
But worse than any of those annoyances was the Nailpro nail salon across the aisle. The fumes emanating from it were so bad that I had a headache by 12:30, and even the mall patrons who walked by all made faces and looked around for the source of the stench. I shudder to imagine what those fumes are doing to the poor souls that actually have to work in that store day in and day out!
Link to the rest at Ferret Press