The romantic one.
Or so it would seem.
When I was little, there was a Borders* around the corner from my neighborhood. I loved spending time there - the fonts of titles and the smell of ink on paper was intoxicating. My little self wanted to work there.
What could be better than being around books all day? Somehow I thought this inherently meant that I could read everything. (Spoiler alert: I had absolutely no time to read anything as I was a full-time student.)
By the time I had enough time on my hands to get a job (I was a busy kid, ok?), Borders had closed down. So I went to the next closest, biggest, baddest book retailer (there were no independent bookshops in my town), and proudly started working as... a cashier.
During the holiday season.
If you've ever worked in retail, God bless your heart. I cried in public twice. I can't even remember the details, but it was a classic case of customers verbally taking out their unresolved emotions on to someone who is just trying to do their job.
Anyway, I promised you the lessons I learned from being a bookseller. Because, yes, after the holiday season they kept me on and trained me to be on the floor. Booyah.
I met some really cool people there (customers too!), and it is pretty awesome to be around books all day. Eventually I decided I was more into the books than the people I was supposed to be selling them to, so it was bye-bye for me.
Would I do it again? Probably if I could find a little bookshop. Quaint and cute and a little more romantic - the kind with lots of nooks and crannies where the shelves are overflowing and the people are passionate about the fonts of the titles. Let me know if you find one.
*For those of you not from the U.S. or born within the last decade, Borders was a HUGE books and music retailer that went kaput in 2009.