All I can figure is that the solstice full moon (apparently rare and interesting, even if one isn't into portents or other such witchery) had an outsized effect on young people last night; drawing them out into public, where they promptly lost control of themselves. 'Twas the strangest of nights in the book store.
It was also a Saturday night, and as we are situated beside a movie theater, we often get the pre- and post-movie crowd; it is not unusual for us to have groups of young people in the store, waiting for their movie to start or waiting for their ride to come pick them up; this is normal and good, no one minds having kids in the store; but last night was one of mild mayhem; so mild that you couldn't quite call it menacing; but couldn't quite not.
There was a group of young teens wandering around the store, laughing too loudly, but otherwise not bothering anyone. And then I came upon them trying to pose our mannequin into the most inappropriate of positions -- feeling herself and giving the finger with the other hand -- and when I first entered the scene, I just smiled, started putting her back to rights, and said, "Doesn't she have the strangest fingers?" And that's true -- all of her finger joints bend in both directions, and any time someone bends them backwards, it gives me the creeps -- and the kids seemed to appreciate that I wasn't actually busting them, and they smiled, agreed about the fingers, and moved on. But they wouldn't leave the store for hours.
Daisy over at tech saw me walking by and told me this story: As she was shelving some things, she saw a table with a couple of teen/maybe early-twenties girls sit down in Starbucks. One of them plugged her phone into a wall socket and was struggling to balance the phone on a window ledge, so Daisy walked over and said, "Actually, there's a plug under your table if you want to use that and keep your phone on the table." Both girls deadpanned at Daisy and took turns mocking her, "Actually? Is there actually a plug under here? Actually?" Daisy asked me if I thought that that had been a strange way for her to put it -- is "actually" some sort of bizarre word to use in this sense? -- but I could only reassure her that she had been a lovely and helpful person and these young women were the problem. Actually.
When I was up in the teen section, I started talking with a young guy about Harry Potter and he was excited about the upcoming midnight release of The Cursed Child, and he wanted details, and we were having a long and interesting conversation. He seemed like he might have had the slightest of developmental delays, nothing very obvious but just something there, and I was happy to talk books with him. A girl came and joined him and then he started talking about Lemony Snicket and how those books had been his favourites when he was a little kid. I told him that those had been my favourites to read out loud to my kids because the humour worked on two levels: my girls would laugh at one thing, but I'd be laughing at something else. Then the guy says, "It works on a different level? Maybe I should reread them. Do you mean they have an adult level, too? Like, do they talk about this?" Then he starts poking the girl in the boob. "Or do they talk about this?" Pointing to her crotch. "Or do they talk about this?" Cupping her bum. I dropped the smile from my face and the guy says, "It's okay. She's my girlfriend. I'm allowed to do that." The girl -- who also seemed like she might be slightly delayed; she had zero reaction as the guy was poking at her -- she said, "Well, that doesn't mean that I can't slap you if I don't like what you're doing". I added something about her being exactly right and turned and left.
Later, these two were joined by four or five more kids about their age, and they spent an hour in front of the graphic novels; taking up the whole aisle and blocking other customers. But what could I do? They have as much right to be there as anyone. As I walked by, I could hear one guy say to another, "Anime has the cutest homos. Like, look at this. Aren't these homos just so cute? And look at these homos..." Other customers were giving them looks, but still, what could I do? I began to wonder if this whole group was part of some special needs class, out on a field trip, but even if they weren't buying anything, no one was going to kick them out. They eventually took a stack of magazines back to the reading table, where they sprawled out, talking and laughing too loudly, but at least they were out of the way.
Meanwhile, I could hear the group of younger teens back by the mannequin again, and the same kid was again trying to form her hand to give the finger (Like, really? Would that honestly be hilarious to get away with?) There were a couple of older girls with the group this time, and when I approached, they had the social sense to stop laughing and look abashed. I just shook my head sadly and said, "This poor lady takes so much abuse" and I fixed her hand as the group walked away, the young guy who had been doing the manipulating giving me a dirty look over his shoulder.
I went back up to the teen section as I made my rounds, and Annie -- the thoroughly lovely young woman in charge of the kids section that day -- was standing on the steps with her arms crossed, looking disapprovingly towards her area. I followed her gaze and saw a group of teenage girls, one of whom had taken a giant inflatable donut off the summer toys display, and as the group wandered through the books and toys that they were obviously too old to actually be interested in, the donut-girl kept bouncing off tables and displays, acting like her movements were out of her control. I said to Annie: "Weird night, eh?" She said it had been: she had spent so much time nagging out of control teens that she was now just going to give this group stinkeye until they noticed her and took the hint. Poor Annie. Eventually, the girls left, leaving the giant inflatable donut in the middle of the aisle; just one more thing Annie had to straighten out in their wake.
When ten o'clock finally came, sales had been so soft (so many people and none of them there to buy anything) that the manager was reluctant the make the "the store is now closed" announcement; telling us that it would be better if we courteously went through the stacks encouraging people to bring their final purchases to the front. I had to go talk to the big group of teens at the reading table -- who acted as though I was "the man", oppressing them with my power and privilege just because I could -- and I was somewhat surprised that they started talking about who would drive whom; so just slightly delayed: enough to not quite act "properly" in public, but not so drastic that they can't drive. And if that sounds overly judgey:
As I continued to encourage others to proceed to the cash, I heard a big commotion coming from the front of the store. As I learned later, as this group was leaving, one of the guys opened the door, and when it gently bumped into one of the girls, she started screaming and crying and holding her arm like it had been broken. They all started freaking out and talking at once and it continued into the parking lot, where the group was still arguing, and the girl was still crying, when the staff was finally able to leave the store fifteen minutes later.
It was a strange night. I know that scientists say that there is no such thing as a "full moon effect", but anecdotally, firefighters and nurses know different. And I can now add that booksellers know different, too. And we're still a day from the moon going fully full; thank the stars I won't be working it.
