Awaiting your reply!
Best,
Fawn
Kyle Krazinsky/CuriousCatBooks/5m
Just finished Anna Karenina. Good except for Levin getting all weirdly religious at the end. #letdown #wtf
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Wed, Jan 16, 2019 at 2:40 PM
To: Staff
Subject: Books
Kyle,
Writing Parrot posts about books in-store that you dislike is also not a good idea. I don’t understand how this is such a difficult concept for all of you! Are you intentionally trying to undermine this project? I would honestly wonder this if I didn’t know that you all truly care so much and are really trying to help. For that I thank you, but I think I’ll need to take over. Some of us need to go to business school to have good sense, some of us are born with it, and some will simply never grasp the concept.
Fawn, Owner
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Thu, Jan 17, 2019 at 8:17 AM
To: Staff
Subject: ATTENTION REQUIRED
Dear Staff,
Will somebody please explain why I walked downstairs this morning to find the Philly Small Biz Journal open to a glowing article about the Grumpy Mug Bookstop on the counter for all customers to see? And then, to make matters even worse, on top of it a steaming to-go mug of coffee with a Grumpy Mug insulator jacket advertising our competitor!? When we have coffee here? Folgers, no less? There are two mugs I desperately never want to see first thing in the morning: their coffee mug and his bearded hippie face.
And to think I was considering giving you all raises. One of you better fess up to this, or you will all be equally to blame for this transgression. We are supposed to be like a supportive family, not a bunch of Judases!
This article is full of falsehoods anyway. This writer states that “the Grumpy Mug Bookstop has revitalized a neighborhood where before there was no reason to set foot on the street except to get a check cashed or to cross over to Clark Park.” If they are trying to insult me, they are doing a fine job. Crediting HIM for gentrifying the neighborhood? Mark, who looks more like a criminal himself with his tattoos and creepy affection for his cats?
Please come to me by noon today, and I will forgive the guilty party. If no one comes to me, then you can forget your raises.
Fawn, Owner
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Thu, Jan 17, 2019 at 1:32 PM
To: Mark Nilsen
Subject: Bold Tactics
Dear Mark,
It’s interesting to me the level to which you choose to stoop just because you happen to be a little threatened by my store, which unlike yours is a neighborhood staple and has as much of a foothold in Philadelphia as the Liberty Bell. I understand the stressful feeling you must have, being in competition with me day to day, but that is no excuse for your behavior. My employees came to me and unanimously said that you showed up this morning, placed your article open on our checkout counter along with a steaming mug of your coffee, and left without a word.
I feel the need to explain to you that, though the article paints you in a Jesus-like light, you and your business do not threaten me. So, please refrain from using guerilla tactics to undermine my store and steal my customers. If you are really as successful as the papers claim you to be, don’t you have better things to do?
Sincerely,
Fawn Birchill, Owner, The Curious Cat Book Emporium (a The Adventures of Tom Sawyer specialist store)
From: Mark Nilsen
Sent: Thu, Jan 17, 2019 at 2:45 PM
To: Fawn Birchill
Re: Bold Tactics
Hi Fawn,
I walked in to say hello and to see if you were there, but they said you were out. Then I got a call from my little brother about something important, so I took the call outside. It was an emergency, so I went back to the store, completely forgetting my stuff. And for the record, I certainly didn’t leave it open to that page. One of your employees must have been leafing through it and never closed it back up.
Sorry for any distress this might have caused.
Mark
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Thu, Jan 17, 2019 at 3:03 PM
To: Mark Nilsen
Re: Bold Tactics
Mark,
I’m sorry, but I just can’t buy that line. My employees said you came in without a word and dropped this stuff off, so are you asking me to believe you over my own employees? After you’ve already done so many obnoxious and childish things? It’s simply impossible for me to see it any other way. Since there is no empirical evidence aside from your word against theirs, I’m going to have to leave it at that, but please spare us this battle in the future and do not come in here again with your marketing materials.
Fawn Birchill, Owner, The Curious Cat Book Emporium (a The Adventures of Tom Sawyer specialist store)
Fawn Birchill/CuriousCatBooks/5m
Butterscotch is sleeping on top of the travel section this morning! Come and see him dreaming of exploring the West with Lewis and Clark!
Fawn Birchill/CuriousCatBooks/4m
Mention the above post and get a 10% discount!
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Sun, Jan 20, 2019 at 10:04 AM
To: Sam Asimov
Subject: The Parrot
Sam,
The Parrot is infuriating! I cannot send a message unless it’s incredibly short and therefore practically useless! How is this supposed to be at all helpful!? For someone as verbose as me, it makes me feel as if I am in a cage with my feet and hands tied together. I want to run through my apartment screaming! You must admit that it is absolutely draconian.
Nevertheless, I already have ten followers, so it must be doing some good.
Many thanks,
Fawn, Owner
Fawn Birchill/CuriousCatBooks/2m
Joy of #reading #sale today at the #Curious #Cat #Book #Emporium! Discounts for mentioning author #Chekhov! (Discounts apply to any #books.)
From: Gregory Harris
Sent: Mon, Jan 21, 2019 at 4:08 PM
To: Fawn Windsor
Subject: A London Get-Together?
Hello, my dear,
I will be in London January 31 to February 3 on business. We are converting a late 1800s millinery into a swanky bar. First time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous, but it should be fun!
I’m rarely over there, so if you’d like to get together at any point, please let me know. It would be fun to finally meet you.
Tell me what is new with you.
Sincerely,
Gregory
From: Fawn Windsor
Sent: Mon, Jan 21, 2019 at 9:30 PM
To: Gregory Harris
Re: A London Get-Together?
Dearest Gregory,
The horses are all wrapped up in their stables for the night, braying and kicking their shoes against the hay-covered floor. I sit by the window at the fire, taking in the crackling of wood and the smell of musky smoke, and bask in the silence of the house—minus the servants’ constant shuffling and murmuring of course. Sometimes they sound like mice in the walls. The servants will be taking down the tree tomorrow and restoring the estate to its usual utilitarian body without the mirth and mistletoe.
Incidentally an American has moved into the estate three miles down the road and is bringing in horse after horse. Apparently he is going to start a polo club at his home. He came over to introduce himself to me the other day, riding up on what I believe was an Arabian horse. He told me, without dismounting, that he would be moving in indefinitely and not to mind the shouting crowds but that I was more than invited to attend his ridiculous events (my emphasis). He wears a mustache and goatee combination like Tolstoy, and his eyes are so dark that they bear an air of mischief despite his kind words. I don’t trust him, Gregory. It seems he aims to make my haven into a hell of ceaseless noise.
Ah, I almost forgot! Thank you for your interest in wanting to
meet me in London in late January. Though it would only be a skip over there by train, I plan to visit the Canary Islands at that time, taking care of some boring paperwork regarding another estate we own there. But even if I weren’t leaving on family business, I would be hesitant to meet you, as the mystique and intrigue of our relationship has always been fueled by the fact that neither of us have met nor do we know what the other looks like. There is a reason I correspond through email instead of the post, which is my usual preferred way. One day, I know I would accidentally put my return address on the envelope, and you would show up with flowers in your arms at my door (platonically, of course)! Though you would need to be buzzed in through the gate and then walk the mile down the road (presumably you would drive), to get to the front entrance. My butler is a bit serious about his job (think Mr. Carson from Downton Abbey) and usually won’t let a stranger within feet of the steps! He is very protective of me as I am more like his Mary Crawley figure and therefore his favorite of the household.
I do hope you understand and have a nice time in London! Do you have to do much restoration on the building or is it in decent shape? I imagine a Victorian-era millinery would be in questionable condition. I greatly share your interest in Victorians, though I do hope you maintain their charm and don’t modernize them too greatly.
I hear the Tower of London is very interesting and historical, and I do encourage you to go. My family suffered in those cold cavernous cells when they fell out of the king’s favor during the Protestant Reformation. Thankfully only a handful met the chopping block, and quickly thereafter the family was restored to title and property. Phew! There’s my family saga in twenty seconds flat! Personally I have never been to the tower because it’s a typical tourist trap, though we would never look down on Americans for finding it incredible—for no doubt it is an amazing piece of history.
Much love,
Fawn Windsor
Fawn Birchill/CuriousCatBooks/5m
Mention #Downton Abbey and receive 25% discount on #Victorian Era #novels! (We do not have #Downton Abbey DVDs.)
From: Mark Nilsen
Sent: Thu, Jan 24, 2019 at 11:45 PM
To: Fawn Birchill
Subject: Police
Hi Fawn,
Our decibel levels are not violating any ordinances. I don’t understand why you feel the need to keep calling the police.
I will try to stop by tomorrow, though I’m sure your employees will feed me the usual line that you are out.
Mark
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, Jan 25, 2019 at 10:09 AM
To: Mark Nilsen
Re: Police
Dear Mark,
The police are simply doing their job. If your events are so loud that they are called, it is not my problem nor am I the one to blame. Perhaps, as I said before, you can ask your guests to reel in the enthusiasm. I do not know who called the police on your extremely loud event, but I assure you on my mother’s life it was not me. (And I’ll have you know that my mother and I are very close, and so I don’t throw that around lightly!)
Fawn Birchill, Owner, The Curious Cat Book Emporium (a The Adventures of Tom Sawyer specialist store)
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Fri, Jan 25, 2019 at 8:56 PM
To: Staff
Subject: Raises
Dear Staff,
Thank you for following up in person regarding the status of your pay increases. Yes, you are all excellent employees. You are loyal and take the success of this business very seriously. Sadly, I am unable to give you raises this year. Yes, I said I was considering it, and especially given the fact that you came forward about Mark’s unwanted visit the other day, you certainly deserve it. But thanks to Mark’s business, money is tight. You can blame him for your lack of a raise if you’d like to blame anyone. I’m sure you’ve seen the change in customer volume since he’s moved in. And yes, of course it’s a painful pill to swallow, but I believe that things will turn around when they realize his store is no different than mine and quite frankly, not as good. Simply having more cats does not a successful store make.
I am sorry I am unable to give you raises this year, but I believe if we stick with it, we will see a greater possibility of a raise in 2020.
Sincerely,
Fawn, Owner
Fawn Birchill/CuriousCatBooks/3m
Fawn here! Who loves #learning? Stop by today ONLY for a 50% discount on #Encyclopedias published before 1975!
January 25, 2019
Januarys are hard. The only thing worse than January is February, and the only thing worse than either is attempting to get through them sober. That is not to say I’m a lush. I would be mortified if someone found these ramblings and assumed such a thing. Truly, I say this in jest, but as with all humorous musings, therein lies truth. Now that the holidays—which bring their own cavalcade of issues—are over, most nights I am opening and polishing off a bottle of red by the defunct fireplace. There are always years in which I’m tempted to try to get through these two months without fumbling through the cabinets for my liquid crutch, but I am either too weak or too stuck in my ways. I suppose there are worse ways to spend evenings alone. And when the wind whistles through the cracks in the panes and the building groans and pops from the pipes, I sit in my chair with my blanket, Butterscotch, a book, and my booze and I do not feel alone at all. Not at all.
Lately my mind wanders to Jane. I find myself going into her apartment to see how she is fairing in these dark, drawn-out months. The woman is a real trouper—she seems as content in January as she does in May. I would stay longer and have considered bringing her some wine or at least a deck of cards, but I hold back. I am not so good with face-to-face interaction. Perhaps this is all thanks to the many years I spent ringing up local regulars and passing-through strangers alike, when I had to engage in small talk and occasionally bear the brunt of their bad day. Once my father told me, after watching me engage for a longer time than usual with a young man, that no one really wanted to speak to me and that it’s best to let them get on with their day. The way he put it, I was holding the man hostage, even though—at least as best as I can remember—he was the one asking me the questions. I never saw him again. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I never saw him again, I mean. I do remain rather baffled, though, that the first truly kind person who ever seemed interested in what I had to say was shooed off like a dog picking up scraps around tables at a restaurant. He was right, after all. When engaging in transactions, be they business or personal, people don’t really want to lollygag. Especially with someone like me who is “better off keeping her nose to the grindstone,” as my father put it.
The more I drink on these cold nights, the louder his voice becomes. But at the same time, the more ridiculous it sounds.
I have half a bottle remaining and then another in the pantry. It should last me the rest of the week until I can get back to the liquor store. I would like to say they know me by name there, but the cashier thinks my name is Fran no matter how many times I’ve shown him my ID. I don’t have the heart to correct him since I have to see him every Sunday.
From: Kyle Krazinsky
Sent: Mon, Jan 28, 2019 at 8:36 AM
To: Fawn Birchill, Staff
Re: Inventory Update
Hey Fawn,
I just finished up physical inventory this morning, and it appears as if we are missing about $2,800 worth of books. Could some of these be the ones you give away on occasion?
Kyle
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Mon, Jan 28, 2019 at 8:45 AM
To: Staff
Re: Inventory Update
Dear Kyle,
Sometimes I give away a book here and there but I have not, in the twenty years that I have owned this business, given away nearly $3,000 worth of books. Either your numbers are off or we have a thief among us.
Fawn, Owner
From: Angela Washington
Sent: Mon, Jan 28, 2
019 at 9:08 AM
To: Fawn Birchill, Staff
Re: Inventory Update
Sometimes vagrants wander in and sleep on the couch upstairs. Could that be it maybe? What if we like, put a fence around our store and screen people who enter? Like maybe ask for their home address to make sure they’re not hobos or whatever?
—A
From: Fawn Birchill
Sent: Mon, Jan 28, 2019 at 9:18 AM
To: Staff
Re: Inventory Update
Dear Angela,
Vagabonds do wander in, but we can hardly do anything reasonable to stop it. I think your idea of asking people for their home address is smart but unrealistic since they could easily lie. Besides, people who live in houses are capable of theft. Though I lived in a dormitory in college, I stole frequently and with abandon from the local grocery stores—it was the only way I kept myself fed and healthy those four arduous years.
We will simply continue to keep an eye out. As Dogberry says in Much Ado About Nothing, “Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you.”
Fawn, Owner
January 28, 2019
I am trying so hard to be positive, but it is a struggle. Today we had a cold snap, and I noticed customers walking out sooner than usual due to our frigid temperatures. It is challenging to heat a large Victorian store with only three space heaters.
So after the store closed, I went downstairs with a flashlight and tried to fix it myself. I believe the monstrous mechanism is about thirty-five years old and so well past its expiration. I took the panel off and, despite the many warnings of electric shock and explosion, unhooked some wires. And then, not knowing what to do once they were unhooked, reattached them. From the basement, even underground, I could hear the applause from Mark’s store. The laughter. The whooping. I rested my head against the unit and breathed, but the anger grew. I don’t know how it started. The desire to kick it bubbled up from a place deep inside of me. And I listened to that desire as it lashed its way out. I kicked the unit until there were dents all over the sides. I kicked it until it rattled and snapped from within. I kicked it until my back started to protest, and still I didn’t stop. I screamed at it. Something inside the unit popped, and I heard what sounded like a screw fall. Out of curiosity more than anything, I flipped the switch to see if by some miracle all it needed was some tough love, but sadly, the banging noise persisted. I could have been imagining it, but I thought I smelled gas. Of course, I turned it right off and went upstairs, defeated.
Confessions of a Curious Bookseller Page 14
