Where Doug Sold More Books Than They Had in the Store

As easily as some of you can sense the mood of the room as you walk into a meeting at work, or even a party at the neighbors', an author can gauge a store's attitude toward book signings.

Two clues were apparent as I walked in the door of the chain book store an hour from my house this afternoon.

Nothing to announce the event. No books displayed. Not one of my books on the shelves in the mystery section. One sign on an empty table near the front of the store proclaimed, "Author Book Signing Today!" with no indication whether it was to be Oprah or . . . me.

A fellow came toward me carrying my books like they were something smelly left on his desk by mistake. At 5'6 and probably 250 pounds, super-size belly pushed out in front of him, chips firmly attached to both shoulders, he was Fat Pat the Store Manager. Hard little beetle eyes signalled Fat Pat was a man who was Not Taking Any Guff.

"Here. We got all your books available in the entire country." Plunked them down on the "Author Book Signing Today" table.

"Wow. Nine whole books? I was told you ordered twenty. Did you sell the rest?"

"No. This is all. You should be thankful we got these," he said. And then with a triumphant little twist he added, "If had a bigger publisher, maybe they'd have more books for you."

"I have a few in the car, if we run out shall I bring them in for you to sell..."

"No. Can't do that. We can't buy books from you. Company policy."

The business of selling began.

First there was the lovely lady who I thought wanted to buy a book but who really just wanted to use my table to wrap a present. When she was finished, she held out her trash. "Throw this away, will you?"

"Sorry," I said. "No waste basket."

"Well, there should be somewhere I can put it!"

"I'm sure there is, but it wouldn't be very comfortable for you."

Then some friends stopped by and my attitude improved. And people started buying books. One bought three and so on until I was sold out.

But people kept coming. One brought the article from the Chicago Sun-Times about me and asked me to autograph it. Others said they'd heard me on the radio. Two asked about my first book and why the store didn't have it available, too.

Feeling like a street corner crack dealer, keeping an eye out for Fat Pat, I sold one book for cash. Sold another. Sold a third. After all, he'd said he couldn't buy books from me to sell...but had said nothing about me selling them myself.

Final tally: total books in store...9. Total books sold...12.

Readers rock, you know that?