Confessions of a Curious Bookseller(74)
From: Mark Nilsen
Sent: Fri, May 24, 2019 at 11:20 PM
To: Fawn Birchill
Subject: Signs
Hi Fawn,
A few things. Those signs in your front window look a lot like ours, only slightly altered. I didn’t think too much of it until one of my employees informed me that he saw your employee rooting through our trash bin, pulling out our discarded signage. According to my employee, he appeared as happy and comfortable in there as a flea on a dog. How exactly do you find these people? I’ll reiterate that what he is doing is illegal, and I will not hesitate to call the cops if I catch him again.
Also, I like the plants out front. I can’t help but notice that you’ve taken a page from my decorating book. Soon, if we’re not careful, no one will be able to tell the difference between our two stores.
Best,
Mark
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, May 24, 2019 at 2:36 PM
To: Mark Nilsen
Re: Signs
Mark,
I am too busy to be dealing with these petty matters. I have customers to attend to. However, since I am a good steward of the neighborhood, I will address your blossoming accusations. Are you positive one of your employees saw Jack in the trash? We only took your signage once, and I went through the trash myself. I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with doing that at the time until you threatened to call the police, so why would I make the mistake of doing it again? Do you think I am mad? I will have you know that Jack is from Chestnut Hill and extremely wealthy and would never lower himself to pick through the garbage. Also, anything Jack does in his free time is something that I cannot control. He is a free spirit for sure—a quality that I believe you and I can relate to.
Also, I find it abhorrent that you accuse me of copying you by decorating the front of the store with plants. I didn’t realize that the Grumpy Mug patented the act of decorating with plants. Congratulations for this achievement, and I do apologize! I will remove them immediately and also inform Thirtieth Street Station and every restaurant in Philadelphia to bring them inside or face the wrath of Mark Nilsen! It is spring, Mark. Plants grow in the spring. To think that I am emulating your business model is ridiculous, as I was here first and have been putting plants in my storefront from the very first year I opened. It is embarrassing how you have copied my business model from day one, and you further mortify yourself by turning the tables and accusing me of copying you! Thank you; I needed a good laugh today.
Fawn
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, May 24, 2019 at 4:56 PM
To: Jack Grisby
Subject: Macaroni Salad
Jack,
I couldn’t help myself and decided to make macaroni salad anyway! If you do not want to bring it home tonight since you will be riding your bike and then taking public transportation home, I would be happy to deliver it to the party myself on the way out to my father’s drab Memorial Day festivities. I wouldn’t stay more than a few minutes!
Fawn, Owner
From: Jack Grisby
Sent: Fri, May 24, 2019 at 5:15 PM
To: Fawn Birchill
Re: Macaroni Salad
Hi Fawn,
Okay I’ll take it. Thankyou! I’ll put it in my back pack and bring it home after work.
Jack
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, May 24, 2019 at 5:35 PM
To: Jack Grisby
Re: Macaroni Salad
Jack,
Do not put the salad in your backpack. As it is in a glass Pyrex bowl with some plastic wrap over it, I believe it would not be a wise move. Within minutes, it will surely spill onto your laptop and books. I sincerely hate Tupperware and all plastic containers in general, and I throw them all out the very first chance I get. I hate them so that I do not even give them the benefit of being recycled! Ha ha! Also, I have lost the rubber lid to the Pyrex bowl, so I must resort to plastic wrap. Please return the bowl after the party.
Many thanks,
Fawn, Owner
May 25
Dear Rainbow,
It’s fine that you are learning lock-picking skills, but please refrain from your practice during store hours, as customers need to be able to leave. I noticed that the door was locked from the outside earlier today—a truly problematic pickle we found ourselves in. I was able to guide a customer through the back, and thankfully he seemed to have a good sense of humor about it, but not every customer may see it that way.
Many thanks,
Fawn, Landlord
May 27, 2019
Jack took the macaroni salad and should be enjoying it by his pool right about now. I am thinking about poor Mother surrounded by the family, the stench of the halls, and the smell of burned meat. Though I do not envy her, I can’t help but think that it would have been nice to see Florence’s little boys, especially the increasingly talented Little Joe. And I’m honestly not sure how much in decline Father is, having only heard it from Mother and Florence, but I would like to see it for myself. Perhaps we could have talked. About what I’m not sure since he was never much of a talker, but I think just sitting there with them and having the freedom to go when I wanted to would have been nice tonight.
I, for one, have snuck onto my roof and am sitting with a bottle of white wine. The sun has begun its descent behind me in the west, and before me I can see the city in its silhouetted grandeur. The Comcast building, the Cira Centre, those hilarious Commerce buildings that look as if they have little horns and . . . all the others that I cannot identify. And somewhere in Chestnut Hill there is a party the likes of which perhaps even Gatsby would envy. For once I would like to be the envy of someone. It troubles me that even someone like Jack could be worthy of envy, simple as he is. But don’t we all strive to live happily and simply? Money complicates all things. If Father weren’t so strict with money when we were growing up, Florence and I might have had a normal upbringing. Everything we did revolved around frugality. And at times it was downright detrimental. I am reminded of family road trips when my father would refuse to let any of us eat until we arrived at the destination because he thought roadside stops were a total waste of money. Angrily he would hunker over his steering wheel as the three of us complained, knowing that we had hours yet to go in the car. We flew by Roy Rogers after Roy Rogers until I became resentful of Roy, hating the very sight of his establishment. How bitter I was toward all the other families going in and getting themselves pretzels or sandwiches.