Imagine my surprise when I discovered that said bookstore has sold out to a private owner. Still, it remains a bookstore and I wanted those books so in I went... and within five minutes I was wishing I hadn't set foot in the door. The man behind the counter looks me up and down, his eyes fall and linger on the Ventolin inhaler and he sneers at me. A bad start already, but I'm pretty used to that look. Asthma is often taken as laziness when you're the age I am and dealing with idiots.
"Hi," I greet him with a smile. "Did [Old Store] change it's name or are you new?"
"They're gone," snaps the man. "We took over a long time ago! What do you want?" I blink a few times, taken aback a little by the tone.
"Oh. Well it has been awhile since I was here," I comment (three months isn't THAT long). "Anyway, I'm looking for a book called Arrows of the Queen. Do you have it?"
"Never heard of it," snaps the man again. "Who's it by?"
"Um, Mercedes Lackey," I reply, now feeling very uncomfortable by this man's tone and constant scowling at me as though I'm about to steal something.
"That's an American author," he growls. "And she's writen nothing for awhile now. Where'd you see this book?"
"Oh, I picked up some of her books at Borders last week but they didn't have that one." Note that Borders is a city bookstore and a three and a half hour journey from where I live.
"Borders imports from America," he growls. "I don't. You want the book? Get it there and stop wasting my time." And with that he points to the door and turns his back on me.
"Well I can see why this store is empty for the first time in it's life," I snap and walk out again, going home bookless and fuming.