Peace of April

            I’m going to have to explain it again.  I do get so many questions about it.  It seems perfectly clear to me, but I’m sure there are tax accountants who feel that way about the 1040.

            April is a “Please don’t bring us books month.”  It’s a month when we discourage donations to the Book Fair in the name of doing a little catch up.  (Thirty boxes and fifty bags came in last Friday: what we call a “mino-surge”.  A tip of the hat to the ladies who showed me how excellent those big Marshall’s shopping bags are for this kind of work.  Reasonably sturdy, these bags can hold three rows of mass market paperbacks, videocassettes, DVDs, etc.  This information is almost enough to make up for the fact that they wanted them all back for reloading.)

            What this bit about “discouraging” donations means is that if you call and ask if we’re taking books, Uncle Blogsy will say “We’d rather not.”  If you can wait, see, until May, we’d be just as happy.  It allows us to clear a little space.  If you then say, “But I’m moving out of the country on April 15—never mind why—and I have to move all these books,” Uncle Blogsy will say, “Bring them over, then.”  If you absolutely, positively HAVE TO get those books out, you may bring them here, even if it is April.

            Now, at this point, a number of people I work with are moaning, “He knows better than that.  They ALWAYS think they have to bring their books over.”

            I do know better than that, pumpkin-stuffed chocolate egg.  But I would rather deal with the ulcers brought on while thinking “Where am I going to stack THIS load of cr…creatively-packaged books?” than risk the possibility that you will throw those autographed Shakespeares in the recycling bin because our website says you can’t bring them over.  We have invented these occasional No-Donations Months just as a relief of pressure.  (I timed it; I spent more time hauling the books into the building on Friday than I did sorting, pricing, packing, or even eating lunch.)

            So it’s meant as a breather, a pause before the last three months of preparation.   (We have 55 boxes of books—the last part of a major estate—coming in next week, and there’s another estate, estimated at 250-350 boxes, that will land on us at some time this spring.)  It is NOT meant to force you to throw all those 18th century maps of Long Island away.  We’re just asking that you hold off until May Day IF YOU CAN.  If you can’t, we do not have Zappo Rayguns pointing out the front and back doors to blast book donors into smoking smithereens.

            That’s for people who bring banana boxes.

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