I really like my job at the thrift store. There are times when the dust turns me into a zombie, and other times I vanish into a quaking, sweaty mess after someone sprays Febreze. Frankly, folks like me with allergies shouldn’t work at thrift stores, but I love the small excitements of the hunt.
Lately there’s been less to hunt. Many organizations like ours count on the monies they earn from their stores to help with their bottom line. So many people have been either out of work or hanging on and using their old things from cars to shoes that donations are down everywhere. I know here that St. Vincent de Paul and the Salvation Army are hurting badly, (Hopefully the Susan B Koman folks are hurting too after yesterday. Did I say that?) but Wednesday there were enough donations to keep us in the back busy until quitting time.
One family blessed us this last week with a complete collection of the Dick Francis mysteries. For me, this was very exciting. I’d had to give up many of mine when we moved out of the big and very moldy house, and I had missed them. There are times I reread them as I really like these wonderfully written volumes.
So I was a good employee. I put them out…all but two that were damaged. I arranged them at eye height, so they’d sell, then I came home and immediately printed out a list of all the books he had written. I went into the bedroom, where the mysteries live, and I checked off each one I already owned. By the time I got back to the store, those books had been on the shelves the required time. I tried to buy everyone that I didn’t own, and came up only four short….even buying one that I’d put In the discard bins.
If you want me, I’m rereading one of the earliest, very happily, I may add.