Dear lying teachers,
You are not sly or sneaky. We have a 20% discount for teachers on books they use in the classroom. We do this because we like teachers and we know they don’t make much money. However, we don’t like teachers like you. I know you want to read books for personal enjoyment, but you’ll have to pay full price. Don’t try to weasel your way out of it. I know when you are lying.
You and your two friends came up to the register together. Your first friend only had a book from the book group table (already discounted 20% - more on crazy book group people later) so she was okay. While I rang her up you and your other friend were whispering away. I caught the words “tell” “teacher” and “discount”. Your friend looked nervous and more than a little uncomfortable. Her eyes shot to the floor when I asked who was next. You approached the register and handed over your book group book and another book.
“I’m a teacher,” you exclaimed proudly.
“Okay,” I said. “Are you using this book in the classroom?” I touched the cover of your second book, Things Good Mothers Know.
“All the books in the store apply for the discount now,” you haughtily informed me. Yes, I know that. I work here. I smiled an icy smile.
“That’s true the discount applies to any book in the store that you will be using in the classroom.” You stared at me, not speaking. “Is this book for the classroom?” I repeated.
“Well, I guess it is then,” you said with a grin. Liar.
As I rang you up, with discount since we aren’t supposed to accuse the customers of lying, you turned back to your friend. There was another hurried whisper fest between the two of you. You’re a teacher. If you are any good at your job you’ve seen back-of-the-classroom conspiratorial whispering. It’s obvious, the quick looks at the person your talking about, the conniving tone. Plus, you’re bad at it. I was only standing four feet from you. I know you told her to say her book was for the classroom when we asked. Like, OMG, we’re gonna totally ask about it. Eye roll.
As I went through the usual ringing up motions, you drew out the lie by talking about how you do mother the kids in your classroom. Ha ha, you laughed. We mother them more than we should. More forced laughter. Your awkward stilted conversation was not helping. I gave you the damn discount. Stop trying to prove you are these poor kids surrogate mother by talking about how one of them has no snow pants and no one is buying them any. Buy the kid some snow pants and I’ll give you a discount on whatever you want. Now go away.
You paid and went over to your first friend by the doors, leaving your nervous friend to fend for herself. My co-worker rang up her purchases. When asked if the same Good Mothers book was for the classroom, she balked. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I won’t be using it yet.” She stammered. No discount for her. Good.
Later I looked up your “classroom purchase”. It was a self-improvement book. It encourages readers “to attend to their own happiness in the quest to become better mothers.” Sure, you’re not really a mother, but if getting a classroom discount on your personal reading makes you happy, it sounds like you’ve got the book’s instructions down already. Too bad you can’t follow ours.
Sincerely,
Kelly
