What, what, what have I done to deserve this?

Yesterday the Green Day bass player was in the bookstore. He bought a book from my counter, but I wasn’t there. I was in the kids department, shelving books and sneezing from the dust. It’s worth noting that earlier I had to lead storytime, a job reviled by other booksellers. I read two torturously lengthy stories to a brooding 10-year-old (who clearly was killing time until he could go to the gaming store next door) and two toddlers who could not have cared less about Officer Buckle and his police dog Gloria, or the duck who became President. They didn’t even want the cookies I had been instructed to hand out, just stared at me as if I were one of those embarrassing performance artists who hang out at Fishermans Wharf.