Sunday, July 24, 2005

Ah, Ego, you're overrated

Hello! I am back from the beach, relatively unscathed. I slathered on sunscreen so I have that pinkish burn instead of the second-degree blisters I usually get after drinking one too many Coronas and falling asleep with my copy of US Weekly strategically placed across my chest for the weirdest possible sun tan.

My husband, however, is in far worse shape. He forgot to put sunscreen on his feet (so he's got a bright red burn in the shape of his flip-flops and he broke a finger playing a friendly game of beach football with his 6'3", 220-lb younger brother). This is sad, yes, but it's even sadder for me. Those of you with whiny husbands know exactly what I'm talking about. He's worse than a toddler when it comes to his pain-threshold. He takes Advil for paper cuts. Now that he actually has a broken finger (hairline fracture which takes a magnifying glass to see) believe me, he's milking it for all it's worth.

At any rate, thanks to everyone who stopped by for Thursday's book signing. My apologies for the lack of a reading. That particular Barnes and Noble felt it would be better if I just sat at the front of the store with a stack of my books. I spent the hour and a half making awkward eye contact with random patrons coming into the store who couldn't figure out if I was an author or if I was handing out free pizza samples, like those lovely ladies in the frozen aisle section of your local grocery store.

Real sample conversation with one live patron:

Patron: "You're the author?"
Me: "That's right!" (Beaming a smile, giving them a hopeful look as they pick up a copy of Dixieland Sushi)
Patron: "Is this any good?"
Me: "I think it's fantastic, but then I have to say that, I wrote it" (Awkward laugh by me. No laugh at all from humorless patron).
Patron: "Is this book for kids? I've got a niece who's 10. You think she'd like it?"
Me: "It's for adults, actually, but..."
Patron: Hmpf. (Drops book as if it's on fire). Well, do you know where I can find Harry Potter?

What can I say? Maybe Barnes and Noble was short-handed that night. Maybe they have a put-authors-to-work program in which we're supposed to man the customer service table. On the bright side, at least I didn't have to make lattes. I don't think I'm smart enough to work that machine.

On the up side, it was great training for my second career later in life as a Wal-Mart Greeter.

1 comment:

Cherlyn Michaels said...

Ah, yes, those humbling experiences. Gotta love those assigned to keep our egos in check. When I was self-published, I did a signing where a senior citzen picked up my book and looked at it, and I promptly went into my presentation of the story and the fact that I wrote and published it myself. I may have even explained how I quit my job of eight years to go out on a limb of writing full time. Well, her response was to twist up her face like she had either tasted something really bad or got a whiff of something with a bad odor (oh, no, it wasn't my book, was it?) and to actually throw it up about a half inch (seemed like it) before she allowed it to go slamming down to the table. She said nothing and walked off. You'd have thought it was porno. Wait, she might have liked that. Hmm...and I'm supposed to respect my elders????