Me: Thank you for calling Comic Book Store. How may I help you?
Other Person On Phone: Oh no.
OPOP: This isn’t *Coworker’s Name*, is it?
Me: No, *Customer’s Name*. He only works on Wednesday.
OPOP: Oh, Adam. It’s not Wednesday, that’s right. It’s Tuesday.
Me: It’s Thursday.
OPOP: Oh, no.
Me: Is everything ok?
OPOP: I just took my garbage outside.
OPOP: Is Halloween a national holiday?
Me: It doesn’t affect garbage day, or bank hours or anything, no.
OPOP: So I should be fine putting my garbage out, like it’s any other Tuesday.
Me: It’s Thursday.
OPOP: Oh, no.
Me: Do you have any comics related questions for me?
OPOP: No. Thank you.
I love when someone stares at a poster for an event and asks “When is this?”, ignoring the gigantic, neon-colored date on the top of the poster.
I point to the date and give them the answer anyway.
Then they ask “Where is the event?”, ignoring that the location is directly under the date I’ve just pointed to, in a different neon color.
"The location is right under the date." I say. "All the info for the event is at the website listed on the bottom of the poster."
"What’s the website?" They, inevitably, ask.
93% of all supervillains’ origins are in retail jobs. Most comic writers aren’t brave enough to acknowledge this.
A man in a Wolverine costume walks into the store.
"Is it ok if I hide out here for a while? This was the only place I could think of where I wasn’t going to get people staring at me."
I nod and laugh.
After a few minutes, he heads toward the door. “Off to a party where I must face every man in a Wolverine costume’s natural enemy.”
"A man in a Sabretooth costume?" I ask.
He shakes his head. “A doorknob.”
Immediately after posting about the Alan Moore fan, a guy who is clearly Out Of His Fucken Gourd comes into the store. He is followed by two of our regulars who work in the area. Both of them are smiling.
Crazy Person: “Do you have the Mad stuff?”
CP: “The Mad. The Mad.”
Me: “New stuff, or old issues?”
CP: “The Mad stuff!”
I lead him over to the old issues of Mad Magazine. “Sure, right here.”
CP: “How much are they?”
Me: “They’re all different prices.” I show him where the stickers are.
CP: “These aren’t old old. These are just old.”
Me: “Were you looking for a particular issue.”
CP: “I have the old old. The Mad stuff. Like old. Are they worth anything?”
Me: “Sure, the original few issues are worth quite a bit.”
CP: “How do you know which issues are old.”
I shrug with my voice. “They have smaller number on them.”
The people that followed him in are chuckling.
Me: “Well, a #7 is old. a #475, not so much.”
CP: “How many #1s are there?”
Me: “I have no idea.” I walk over to the Price Guide because I KNOW he’s going to ask
CP: “How much is #1 worth?”
Me: “If it’s in perfect condition. Never been opened. Never been read. it’s worth $7,000.”
CP: “I have that. How do I know if I have that?”
Me: “It would have the number One on it.”
CP: “What does the cover look like?”
Here, I fail in my customer service role, to remember that we HAVE a copy of a Hardcover Archive WITH that cover directly behind where I’m standing. Mea culpa. “It’s a bunch of people with their back against the wall, and a kid saying something about ‘Melvin’.”
CP: “Do you have a picture of it?”
Again, I actually do, but don’t realize it. “No.”
CP: “I’ll sell it to you for $5,000. I don’t care. It’s only money.”
Me: “That it is.”
CP: “And it would have a number on the cover?”
Me: “Yes, the magazines all have numbers on the covers.”
CP laughs maniacally and rubs his hands together. “Rich, rich, rich. I’ll be back!”
Silence falls over the store as he walks up the stairs, and out the front door.
One of the two customers turns to the other and says”I told you that guy was going to be awesome.” Then he turns to me. “I was standing outside smoking and he came up to me and asked me if I worked here. When I said no, he said ‘I’m gonna go in there like a ring-a-ding-ding.’ Swear to Thor ‘Ring-a-ding-ding’.”
Another customer, who is not a regular comes up to the counter and says “You were much nicer to that guy than I would have been.”
I always worry that I’m visibly judgmental when I work here, but this is the third time someone’s complimented me on my restraint in dealing with crazy people. It is immediately followed by a declaration that it is “Particularly crazy in the square today.”
Which, as one of the regulars points out “Is horrible and impressive.”
Random Loiterer: “I’m a huge Alan Moore fan. He’s one of my favorite artists.”
Me: “Actually, he’s a writer.”
RL: “Yea, but he draws all his own books.”
Me: “No. No he doesn’t. He doesn’t draw any of his own books. Or other peoples’.”
RL: “He doesn’t?”
Me: “He doesn’t. At all. Ever.”
RL: “But he always works with the same guy.”
Me: “Nope. He’s worked with at least dozens of different artists.”
Me: “Out of curiosity, what have you read by him?”
RL: “Oh, I’ve never read anything by him before. I just love his art.”
I’m quitting my job and joining Habitat For Humanity. I need to hammer some shit for a while.