So, we're losing the Inventory Manager, but you already knew that. None of us would do any different in her situation. And she assures me that she'll be full of interesting information once she's safely away from That Guy. That could be good; could be fun. We can hope.
Inventory Weekend itself is over with, thankfully. If you do this for a living, you have to secretly love the Idea of an actual Physical Inventory. Wouldn't it be great if we Really Knew exactly what we had in this building, and where? We'd be unstoppable. But you also can't help but be appalled whenever it really happens. What a monstrous, dehumanizing thing, making anybody number and catalogue Everything in some particular space! And on the other hand, who are these people they get to do it? Ex-cons? Carnies? They're alarming!
Also, worked with the Old GM tonight, which was weird as always. She doesn't talk to me anymore, which is perfectly fine with me, but odd. (In what possible world am I part of her problem?) But mostly it's just depressing. She's this living, breathing, whining example of what happened to the whole idea of a Bookstore.
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