The number 114 comes to mind

I'm passing through the drive-thru with a burger in one hand, a coke in my lap, a cell phone ringing beyond my reach and three fingers precariously guiding the wheel of this blog. The insane-o-meter is otherworldly today and I find I have a window between the avalanche and burying myself out in time to go sell books for Thomas Laird to peck out a few lines.

Applications, applications and more applications. Then the resubmits on the application because I did not decipher their code correctly and filled them out wrong. We've had some major hits on our publicity drive and we're starting to reap the reward of Russ's hard work. It seems by the day that more and more people are expressing excitement and joy over what we hope to accomplish. Much though I'll feel better about it all when I stand on the book floor, it is nevertheless gratifying to feel such overwhelming support. Now...if the support comes with cash, credit or check we'll be able to dance for you until we turn to dust. Such is the lamentable nature of commerce. It is nothing without revenue.

Owning a bookstore is a bit problematic that way. Book lovers just love to talk about and recommend books. It's what we do. In my near ten years of experience selling books I have worked with people with double majors before who decided they'd rather sell books at seven bucks an hour. I once hired a guy who showed up for the interview in a $600 suit. He had a day job--some computer hooey I cannot only not recall, but could not explain if I did--and just wanted to fill in the remainder of his time selling books. We're a strange bunch and generally speaking, unless you want to run your own store, want never to be bothered with finances of any kind. You have to practically marry a bookseller off to encourage them to buy a home and move out of the apartment they share with four or five other people. It's just that way. Needless to say, somewhere in that little bit there, you'll find me dwelling in my past. I don't long for those days, heaven knows I'd rather be in front of this train than trailing mindlessly behind it, but a part of me will always pine for the days when my primary focus was just to get Terry Pratchett books into anybody's hand. I'm a bookseller. If you want to open a store, so are you. Fact is, it's difficult to run a bookstore (one or many) if you have no passion for books and no desire to put your favorite author on somebody's bookshelf. It is the passion that drives us--not just to succeed as business owners as much to as propagate literacy to vast reach of our capability.

If I didn't just describe you, then you have two choices:
1. Find a nice laundromat and buy it.
2. Find somebody who fits that description, give them the authority to make decisions and then back away and look pretty for the camera. It's likely the extent of your ability anyway.

Harsh, but true. There are two sides to this proverbial coin. You have the business and you have the books. To be focused and capable only in the business side of things is to isolate yourself from the people you hire to sell. To hire people who share your business minded approach is to kill the loyalty of customers created through conversations with book-nuts who never stop recommending titles. It is perhaps the bane of the independent bookstore. Without a representation of both, you are doomed to mediocrity or failure.

Wow, I'm starting to sound like my father here. Freaky.

Right, I've gotta run and sell books to people who want to buy them because the author was just so fabulous and they just can't live without them. Easy enough.

--zach