lessons from working in a secondhand bookstore

late stage capitalism and the illusion of choice

At the beginning of this year, I was looking for a part time job that will fit into my routine as a student. On the way home from another job interview where I was asked for too much and offered too little, I went into a used bookstore, with the intention to get some books for a course on Shakespeare the following semester. I left with a job, and a romanticized idea of the future awaiting me.

I was captivated, at first, by the smell of old books. By the shelves after shelves almost giving way under the weight of hardcovers and soft covers alike. By the feeling of stepping into another universe. In short, I fell in love with being a customer there. Working there, however, proved to be more complex.

It seemed to be the perfect role for me, or at least I wanted to believe it was. The pay was awful, of course, but I told myself it’s an experience. I was offered a different job at the same time but felt like it was wrong for me, and so I believed I was making a reasonable choice. I came to realize, not too long after that, that everything that seems just right on paper is rarely so in real life.

At the beginning, I felt like I was learning a lot. I learnt patience, towards customers and my employer alike. I learnt how to examine a book to determine its worth, its condition, its genre and specialty. I also learnt that I am slightly allergic to dust – which accounted for a somewhat unpleasant first week. I learnt how to immerse myself in monotonous work, above all else. I did not think it was bad, at least at first.

“You can pay Uncle Sam with the overtime
Is that all you get for your money”

The thing about working a minimum wage job is that whatever is expected of you, it is definitely not worth the money. And the thing about late stage capitalism is that burnout is inevitable. Even when working in what you determine is a “dream job,” even when working in a secondhand bookstore, a place where time stands still, exhaustion catches up to you. When you are expected to prioritize the wellbeing of the business over your own, you will find yourself tired physically, mentally, and emotionally, no matter what career path you choose. This is the illusion of choice under capitalism: you can pursue anything, but all of it leads to the same feeling. Work was never meant to be our lives.

This unrealistic expectation of the worker was something I was able to ignore, overlook, and pretend it did not exist for a while, until it came crashing down.

I lost my job for going to a funeral.

In a broader sense, I lost my job for failing to view this bookstore as the sole purpose of my existence. For refusing to mend, bend, and break my life to fit around its routine. And yes, for cancelling a shift to go to a funeral. I wish this was a joke.

I know this is an extreme, and incredibly illegal, situation. And yet I can’t help but wonder – where do we draw the line? Why did we allow ourselves to get this far, to place work above all else, as if it matters more than fulfillment, than happiness, than rest?

I am glad I was fired because the most important thing I have learnt from working in a used bookstore is that a job will never be my purpose, no matter how romanticized and exciting it may sound on paper. It’s probably not your purpose, either.

And in the words of the great Billy Joel:

“And it seems such a waste of time
If that's what it's all about
Mama, if that's movin' up
Then I'm movin' out”

---

Thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed this post, consider subscribing to back to shore. I don’t currently offer paid subscriptions, but if you want to support me and my work, you can contribute however much you choose to, right here. No pressure, just my gratitude for you being here. Until the next one :)