I made the mistake of thinking I could 'just run over' to the community college bookstore at lunch hour on the first week of class and 'grab' the two books John needed for his online project management class. After 20 minutes circling around the wall to wall covered with cars campus parking which looked like a 'Cash for Clunkers' section at a car dealership, I had managed to park on the 3rd level of the new parking structure, go down 1 flight of stairs, pay for a day pass, return to the car to put the permit on the dash board, make my way across a quarter mile of campus featuring a sea of students, wait in a reasonably short line to check my back pack at the 'complimentary' back pack check in, head to the book store entrance only to figure out it was the exit, wind away around to the designated entrance, wait in a small, square entry way of the bookstore, bounded by a student employee holding one side of a velvet rope, equivalent to the foyer of the Haunted Mansion at both Disney parks, but far less enchanting, however just as scary, get let in after "just" 2 minutes with what seemed like a civilized group of about 8 other people, breathe a sigh of relief that the crowd of shoppers was being controlled this way, barely glance at the section where the PM books were located, look to my right to observe another velvet rope cordoning off 50% of the bookstore where some 60 students waiting to buy books were snaked around aisles of school supplies in line, beg to be let out of the bookstore at the entrance which was in no uncertain terms not to be used as an exit even for disgruntled non-shoppers who made the mistake of thinking they were home free *just* because they had cleared the velvet rope, eventually re-enter in order to be allowed to exit (?!), make my way to the backpack retrieval line, wait there for a good 15 minutes with other hot and bothered people waiting to retrieve their backpacks, and feel thoroughly defeated.
This of course evoked memories of my own active college bookstore days as waiting around with people half your age is wont to do, and, to my surprise, all I could think was, "Poor kids!". Not literally judging from the wide variety of nonclunkers in the parking lot, although I'm sure that's the case for some. But of course in addition to being afforded the luxury of a private college where at most you might decide to put your backpack up at the register, mostly so you didn't have to bother with it, your parents sent you off to said school (or mine did anyway) with a blank check for which you were welcome to buy all your textbooks new and they knew the damage would be no more than a one or two hundred dollars at the most.
I'm well aware that in fact, given the flooding of college age students to community colleges, my response might better have been to think, "Lucky kids," because I understand that many students are locked out of classes, but I couldn't turn my attention away from how not-fun it is to jump through so many hoops for such little gain, and I was not the only empty handed book buyer by far.
John headed back to the store this morning when it opened this morning and got the 2 books, used. He continues to work toward career change and productive use of his nonworking time while he diligently works all leads and suggestions for a job that will make use of his sales background. I can't help but be relieved to be out of the cycle of "will I/won't I/don't I" want to leave the job I just left while it occurs to me we could be in this waiting and wondering cycle for a while.
In the mean time, no complaints about having freedom (with decent slops most days) with which I can do things video chat my precious Leo and Peter in Virginia during the 'work day,' photograph orange yams in a blue bowl 'just cuz,' and read The Missing Manual and Zen and the Art of Knitting simultaneously.
"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back." Maya Angelou
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