Ode to Inventory
It’s March 31st.
For many in the book business, today is inventory day. Much anticipated, much dreaded, this annual snapshot of stock on hand tells an important story. And more importantly, the reports that follow become judge and jury on the viability of the business. Live or die, it all depends on inventory management. In the case of independent bookstores, this is not merely hyperbole.
But I am being a little overdramatic. After eight inventories at a big chain bookstore and eight more at an independent bookstore, I would have to say that I actually love doing inventory. It is inevitably a day full of treasures. First, I get to wear grubby clothes to work, a novelty in itself. There’s pizza for lunch, a small thing maybe, but the real treat here is that everybody gets to eat lunch together. When you work in the customer service industry, it’s the only day of the year that you get to eat with your colleagues, the only day that no one has to cover the floor because there are no customers.
No customers? That in itself lends an air of unreality to the day. Please don’t misunderstand, I love talking to people about books, but just imagine the feeling of being behind closed doors in a bookstore, to be allowed to put your finger on every single spine without interruption. It’s my childhood dream come true.
But the real treasures are the books themselves. I worked in large bookstores, so there was no way any one individual knew every single title in the store. It is beyond thrilling to count in a section other than your own (necessary in the same sense that a copyeditor is necessary, fresh eyes are required) and discover titles, authors, even whole genres hitherto unknown to you. The little pile of books that you intend to buy as soon as the cash registers are released from lockdown grows throughout the day. It’s like Christmas.
Mind you, it’s a filthy, difficult process. Clouds of book dust fill the air. Sneezing is inevitable, as are itchy eyes that will make you cry. (Although my publisher has just informed me that our books fly off the shelves so quickly that no dust accumulates.) But these are fleeting discomforts.
It does occur to me that we would do well to inventory other aspects of our lives on March 31st, a personal spring cleaning. Count what you have, but don’t stop there. A successful inventory actually counts what you had, but have no longer; the things that left their mark as they passed through your life, not the number of things still in it.
And for everyone counting today at Coteau Books, the University of Victoria Bookstore, and stores across the country, I raise a glass. Thanks for looking after all our books!
