The Boss Lady emailed me this morning about how it was only appropriate that the Harry Potter released date should be announced after we’d finished closing the store. Hell to the Yeah.
(For those of you who have not yet heard the date is July 21st, 2007 and if I’m not doing the Denver publishing school thing y’all are welcome to join me in a local bar to do shots. If you’re not at home reading the book, that is.)
In honor of that alcoholism-inducing occasion it seems only right that I finished my last day of work yesterday by trying some real, honest-to-god, they’ve-been-making-it-since-the-prohibition moonshine.
Flavored moonshine to be exact. In mason jars. Provided by one Jr. Johnson.
Well, Jr.’s grandpappy to be exact. It being a family tradition and all.
Two things I learned about moonshine that I hadn’t previously realized:
1.) real artists create it in oak barrels.
2.) and if done right, it is smoother than the highest grade tequila.
After much sampling it was decided that while the plum moonshine had the best flavor, the crabapple moonshine was not as sweet and therefore had a more interesting taste to the pallet.
Maybe I’ll go down South and learn the moonshining tradition from Jr.’s grandpappy. If only so I can discover where gets all the mismatched mason jars.
The last day of work was rather anticlimactic; just the Boss and I cleaning up the last of the trash, carting the various things we’d left at the store over the years out to our car, and giving the store one last cleaning. I wiped down the bathroom and she swept under the shelves. We collected the bits and pieces of things that people had left behind: D’s shoes, M’s CDs, A’s soup. Piled them all into a basket to take to the “wrap” party we’re having at a local pub on Saturday.
The shelves were empty—stripped of books and stickers—and when it was all said and done we sent seven pallets of books back to the warehouse and stripped 3,300ish paperbacks. Not that many books really. People were very frenzied in their buying in the end, bringing piles of books to the counter, easily dropping over $100 with each purchase and then coming back for more.
Irony is that because of this frenzied final sale, we made the year and then some. Closing all these stores might actually give corporate the little boost at the end of the fiscal year that it needs.
I have lots of stories to tell: the ones that made me roll my eyes at people’s stupidity, the funny incidents, the goodbyes that made me cry. And I’m sure I’ll tell them eventually (whether you want me to or not), but just not today.
Today is the first day of my unemployment. The first day of not being a bookseller in every sense of the word. The (clichéd) first day of the rest of my life.
And it started with a very nice cup of coffee, absolutely no remnants of a moonshine hangover, and you guys.
I think it started pretty well.