Clyde, eager to shop the new Lowe’s, drops me off at Borders Books.
Early on, Borders earned a reputation as a “massive but edgy” chain, installing, for example, a big, bold “Gay and Lesbian Fiction” section back when Barnes and Noble wouldn’t even carry such books.
In Flowood, MS, the store’s attitude has been scaled back a bit. The once overflowing metaphysical section is now squeezed onto a narrow shelf between hundreds of Bibles, commentaries, and Left Behind novels.
When my publicist called to schedule a hometown book signing for Putting the Tarot to Work, the fundamentalist Christian events coordinator, upon hearing the title, said, “We don’t do events at our store.” (Actually, according to the store’s events calendar, she does … but, judging from the calendar entries, she does them only for fundamentalist Christian titles.)
But I digress.
Since being on crutches, I’ve had nothing but good experiences while out in public. The cash register operator at Moe’s left her post to open doors for me and carry my dinner to the car. Shoppers at the mall spontaneously hold doors for me. At McRae’s, a sales person carried my purchases until I was ready to check out. Everywhere I go, people go out of their way to make my day a little easier … and I’m grateful for that.
The exception? Yesterday at Borders, for the first time since the accident, two shoppers let me know they were just plain irritated with my attempts to get past them.
On crutches, I can’t bend down to see the lower shelves; I’m forced, instead, to stand a meter or so away from the racks and peer down at the floor-level titles. Yesterday, this had me crossing the paths of two other shoppers.
My first “Excuse me, please” was ignored completely. I repeated my request, and the first of the two men glared at me, glanced at my crutches, and stepped aside. His friend did not.
“Pardon me, please,” I said again. Without even looking up from the book he was browsing, the second man stepped aside just enough to let me squeeze awkwardly past.
On the return trip, I once again had to ask for free passage. The first man rolled his eyes, sighed deeply, and stepped aside. His friend again moved just enough for me to brush past him, then said, “Some people think they own the place, don’t they?”
What were they shopping for?
You guessed it. Bibles.
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