School's Out . . . un, In

So I'm taking an online Literature class (yeah, totally useful), but since I'm the dork that will take classes until the end of time, without gaining a degree, I'm excited.

I had to write an "Introduction" of myself for the other students and the teacher.
This is my first draft, which of course, just proves I do not make friends easily.

Good day all. My name is [xxx], and briefly, I like sarcasm, crosswords, dark beer, and watching my 1-year-old fall down. I have an addiction to adjectives, and tend to ramble (my alter-ego is a cruel editor). I'm from everywhere, and may have magical powers.
I am trepidatious about taking a literature class, being the first to admit that while I love to read, and write, I am adverse to over-analysing. Yet I thrill to the challenge of different perspectives, applying cultural mores to fiction, and the opportunity to share.
I believe that this class will satiate my love and fascination of varying cultures. I have a fondness for history, often rereading Larry Gonick's Cartoon History of the Universe, which is wry, well-research, and hilarious.
I am taking this course online due to time and place constraints, having also had only positive experiences with English courses online. Plus, I do so love to wear comfy clothes and have a cuppa while reading, researching, and writing, so it's win-win for me.
I do look forward to becoming acquainted with everyone, doubtless exposing the fact that while my written word often seems to come from a stuffy 65-year-old British man, I am usually found to be channeling an immature foul-mouthed bar wench, or so my husband tells me.

yeah. that's me.

It's not a trend . . .

So whilst avoiding housework I hit one of my favorite blogs and read this:

BernThis.Com

I thought I'd share an episode of my B&N life:

Working at the Information Counter at Barnes and Noble provided an unparalleled experience at sadly information-lacking customers and opportunities to practice subtle mocking. Alas, I left the bookstore world having failed at the subtle part.

Soon-to-be-irate Customer: I need you to help me find a book.
Moi: Sure, what's the title or author?
STBIC: Oh, I don't know. It was on the morning show. Awhile ago. It's blue.
Moi: Blue?
STBIC: Yeah. Blue cover. It was on the morning show.
Moi: Er, which morning show?
STBIC: On channel 11? In the morning? Can't you look it up?
Moi: Um, do you know what the book is about?
STBIC: It's about a girl. And her life, and stuff. It's blue.
Moi: (heroically not sighing heavily) Okay, was it a biography? Or fiction?
STBIC: Well, I don't know. Don't you have a list? Or look it up on your computer there. Jeez . . .
Moi: Hmmm, well, come with me. Maybe you'll recognize it.

STBIC innocently follows me to the automotive section.

Moi: Here is the Kelley Blue Book. Is this what you wanted?
STBIC: What? Noooo. Wha . . . it was on the morning show!
Moi: Oh, hee hee, silly me. Follow me, please.

STBIC innocently follows me to the art section.

Moi: Here is a blue book. Is this what you wanted?
STBIC: Why . . . Wha . . . nooooo. It's, it's about a girl. And a swimming pool.
Moi: Oops. Oh, now I think I got it. Follow me.

STBIC follows me to the religious section ("But, no, no, it's about a girl!"), the teen section (huge sigh "No, no, I . . . it was . . . the morning show . . ."), the notebooks and frivolties section, and finally back to the Information desk.

Moi: Well, I sure am sorry I couldn't help you. Gee, I feel terrible. Let me call the manager.
IC: (no longer soon-to-be) Well, fine. I guess I should have . . .
Moi: Yesssssss?
IC: I guess I should have just asked the manager first.
Moi: Huh. Okay. Groovy, here he is.
Manager: So, how can I help you?
IC: I'm looking for a book, from the morning show, . . it's, uh, it's blue.
Manager: Uh, right. Do you know the author or anything about it?

At this point my manager, who knew me oh-too-well, looked at me sideways. He seemed to be trying to impress upon me the lack of my customer service ability, but I countered with a roll of the eyes that knocked over a stack of magazines and dislocated my left shoulder.

IC: It was on the morning show, . . . awhile ago . . . about a swimming pool. I think Oprah liked it.
Manager: Could it be this book here on the bestsellers kiosk? The one right next to the Information desk? The one that has been on ALL the morning shows?
IC: That's it! Wow! Thank you so much!
Moi: Huh.

Yes, it's all true. It happened more than once. I never did manage to help those poor readers. I did however get the enviable job of sorting new books and creating tasteful displays.

Maybe now it's becoming clearer why I should not have customer service jobs.