Evil book store

Gift vouchers. I delight in receiving gift vouchers as they offer many possibilities to get free stuff I normally would not purchase. Some things suddenly seem an extravagance when faced with the prospect of paying for them myself, certain rare plants for example.
(The opposite is true when giving vouchers, I rarely give them, perhaps this is related to someone once saying that I was a considerate gift giver. Ever since that time, I may have blown their comment out of all proportions and possibly may feel that I need to live up to their long ago compliment-in-passing.)

Recently I was fortunate enough to receive a Borders gift voucher. I have always enjoyed reading and hoard books all over the house and future-read titles on bits of paper all over the house. At the time, I had already ordered a bunch of books from amazon.com, justifying the purchase with the current high exchange rate and of course telling myself that books are always a good purchase and never extravagant (unless they includes titles such as 'Hulk Hogan's Rock N Wrestling Sticker Book' or 'Knitting with Dog Hair: Better a Sweater From a Dog You Know and Love Than From a Sheep You'll Never Meet').

So I hung onto the voucher for a month, telling myself that the online purchases would keep me busy for some time. Well, half way through my first book, with four books unread, I found myself trying to weigh recipe ingredients on a tiny Slimmer's scale (disconcerting that they exist and more so that I somehow came to own one) and noting an opening to visit my local shopping center where Border sits on two levels, I crumbled. With a bit of glee and a (genuine) excuse, I headed out to buy a more accurate set of kitchen scales with my book voucher in hand.

Let me say that I rarely wander shopping centers as a way to pass time. If I need to visit them, I write a list of the things I need and get the heck outta there once I am done. Borders of course is near the car park entrance where I can always find a parking space: how convenient!

'Just a quick look, after all I do have this voucher', I told myself after buying my scales. A few minutes after entering the store, I had just $7 left on the voucher and decided to buy a kids book for D. Kids books are down the escalators and after I picked out 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' by Eric Carle I headed back up the escalators, working out that I will only be a little out of pocket.

'Do you want to get 3 for 2 on kids books?', asked the cashier. Do I? Heck yes! Down I went again and picked out another Eric Carle book about 10 rubber ducks and another book containing pictures of farm animals with faux fur inserts.

'If you call this number and provide some feedback you can get 20% off your next purchase', the cashier said as she handed me the receipt. I nodded as she asked whether I wanted to receive offers via email which includes 'savings of up to 40%'. I declined her offer thinking that if I continue getting seduced by discounted books I will be succumbing to that modern day evilness. The evilness akin to queuing 10 minutes for petrol on TA Tuesday for a $1.50 discount or having to eat endless champignon-based recipes due to a lapse in common sense one day at the supermarket: discounted or not, you pay for it in the end.

Then I thought that if I were to partake in evilness, the capitalist clutches of a book store is probably the much lesser kind. Books received in childhood and seen again in adulthood are reminders of something new and of places undiscovered, a wonderment that follows you through the years without you really knowing. Someone (a family member? A teacher?) had fostered in me a want to know and an asking of why and had made it all stick. What a great gift.

So I took back my evil book store thoughts as I left the counter with my stack. Walking out to the car park I reminded myself of the Dr Seuss and Little Golden Books I saw and I filed those titles in my mind under 'Gifts for D - probably at 40% off'.