The Bookstore Chronicles.

The asphalt could fry a fresh egg by the time I arrived at the mall, just to buy the required things for my project. I started hating bookstores when I stepped up in High School, swearing myself not to read a single book and let my demented mind last forever. And a while ago, I swore not to step at that same bookstore.

Well, yesterday – I helped this lady who looks for a tracing paper. Boy, alam mo ba yung tracing paper? I paused for a moment and examined my neurons, screening, and manipulating data. Tracing paper is used in wedding gowns, right? And in architectural plans, I suppose. I do remember our neighbor tracing something in that almost-transparent paper. Is that a tracing paper, anyway? Hindi ko po alam eh. Rather than spilling my uncertain answer to somebody else, I’d rather shut up

Later, I summoned her and gave her ten pieces of tracing paper. I’m such a good ‘boy’ – my new name.

On my way to the counter, I got this bad mood over the cashier. She told me that the Faber-Castell color pencils I got has no bar code in it, and got problematic. And if you happened to know me, I’m a brat customer. I hate waiting for something unnecessary. So I made a face just after she gave me the color pencils, and told me - sir, hindi ko pa po napapunch yan.

I ended up going home at around 6:20 PM – experiencing traffic jam. Good thing I bought myself a book – Youngblood 3.

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Today’s ignorance was at its height when I went back to the same bookstore and searched for a plastic cover. We have this Math project and it’s needed, badly needed. I almost fell dizzy searching for it – staring at those white erasers, whiteboard markers, special paper, ribbons, short folders (I bought some of it), and those students finding a handful of linen paper. (What’s linen paper, by the way?)

I’ve seen this abandoned cutter and at last! A fat roll of what they call ‘plastic cover’. My heart leapt with joy and satisfaction, as I stood still and examined the area. Is this a self-service thing, wherein I need to get a long plastic cover and cut it with a cutter and fold it and proceed to the cashier? That seems wrong, but I did it. Yeah, it was nasty!

Then this young lady from the bookstore asked me: Sir, san po kayo nakakuha nyan?

Uhh, nakalagay lang dun. Kinuha ko na. I lied. My reputation in the bookstore must not vanish just because of this act of foolishness!

Uhh, sir. Ilang meters po yan?

Uhh, kinuha ko lang dyan. I lied. Oh, please stop asking me. Alam ko namang nakita mo ko na ginupit ko nang walang pakundangan diba! Grrrr.

Sir, kuha na lang po kayo dun sa may cashier – naka-roll na po yun tsaka exact na one meter.

MALAY KO BANG MERON SA HARAPAN! Sa susunod, pwede lagyan nyo ng sign yan!

And right now, I’m feeling so embarrassed. According to Jhed, TANGA daw ako. Tanga. Oh, how I hate the word. But it’s true. I’m so stupid! I promise, this whole year, I’ll never ever come back to that bookstore. Ever. Ever! (2:51 AM – January 4)

~ by utakgago on January 3, 2007.