Should I apply? I applied.

Well, I did it.
I can't imagine leaving my crazy awful dream job at the thrift store.
I'm hesitant about moving out of the city.

But I did it. I applied to work at the bookstore in Duluth.
(I bet they'll have a ton of applicants, and I won't have to worry about having to do those things.)

This is the cover letter--(with a few things deleted, here). Please don't tell me what's wrong with it, because it's too late now.
I've just emailed it.

Hello,


I am writing to apply [blah blah...]

I’ve worked with books since college days—in libraries, publishing, and retail. I’ve proofread and copy edited, but I’m not a stickler for grammar. Apostrophes used to signal plural’s don’t bother me.
What I care about is communication and community.

Since 2018 I’ve worked as Custodian of Books at the xxx Thrift Store. It’s the only thrift store I know that pays someone to curate their books, making its book section something like a small independent bookstore. I can’t choose what books get donated, of course, but I choose what titles go out and how to display them.

After the Covid-19 lockdown this spring, the store was planning to reopen when the police murdered George Floyd a mile away. In the aftermath, the store was broken into twice. After we’d cleaned up all the slivers of glass, our manager got Covid (mildly, thankfully).

When we finally reopened at the end of July, I displayed books by and about BIPOC. Two weeks later, I set up books to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the 19th Amendment. Then Latinx Literature. This week, sci-fi paperbacks with lurid mid-century covers. A customer bought them for us at a bag sale at DreamHaven Books. (Everyone is grieving the destruction of Uncle Hugo’s, a few blocks from St. V’s.)

The one category I can never display is New Releases. There’s always a time lag before readers donate their copy of Michelle Obama’s autobiography (not a single one has come in yet) or the new Elena Ferrante. Any hot ticket we get is snatched up literally within minutes: White Fragility stayed on display maybe five.

I also valet V’s social media.[1]

Before I took it on, our social-media was dawdling in the backwaters. The store had never been in the running for City Pages newpaper’s annual Best of Twin Cities, for instance. I launched a social-media campaign, inviting people to vote for us, and this summer City Pages named us Best Thrift Store.

They featured my book section, calling it “better curated than some used bookstores…. marvel at the selection of pulpy paperbacks, art books, and unclassifiable printed ephemera.”[2]


Printed ephemera! I was over the moon: the basket of paper odds and ends, mostly 25-cents each, is one of my favorite innovations.

Besides unboxing, sorting, pricing, and shelving books, which keeps my muscles in good working order, I love talking with the wide range of people at the store. They come to shop, socialize, and sometimes to request help from the Society xxx—an organization whose mission statement says it’s “a network of friends working for a more just world.”

So, …Duluth?
I biked from Minneapolis to Duluth when I was twenty-three. Once was enough. Since then, I’ve come by car or bus and stayed down the road from you at the Munger Inn. I’ve long fantasized about moving up there.
But where would I work?

Then you came along, and there was joy in Zenith City. There's a 2018 photo of me looking goofily happy outside your store.

I love West Duluth. I worried, though, that it was like Morrissey’s “coastal town that they forgot to close down,” [3] so I was thrilled to see it take an uptick in recent years. When I visited earlier this month, I was worried again, however, to see the plants in the window of Gannucci’s looked poorly. I hope your bookstore may be an anchor and a sign of resilience.

(On this most recent visit, I bought two books from you: the new Jackson Brodie by Kate Atkinson and a used copy of Hillsider: Snapshots of a Curious Political Journey, by Don Ness.)

Booksellers are walking point in this season of pain and hope, with libraries mostly closed and people in need of something to hold on to. Thank you for your work, and thank you for considering my application to work with you.

My best, Fresca

FOOTNOTES (Because bookish.)

	[I'll skip 1 &2] [3] “Everyday Is Like Sunday,” Morrissey, [1988], Morrissey has NOT aged well, eh? I hesitate even to quote him, but this song withstands his recent idiocy.
	_______ [END OF COVER LETTER]
I can't believe I'm quoting Morrissey, but maybe one day I could be singing with him, "I was looking for a job and then I found a job. And heaven knows, I'm miserable now..." But actually, if I read this cover letter, I'd think, "Why EVER would she want to leave her present job?" And I do think I don't want to.