Incident Report
Bookstore Shakespeare & Co.
Specialty English-language books
Location Left Bank, Paris, France
Date of incident 20 July, 2019
Employee filing report Justine Paget
Job title shelving specialist (for just one year)
Please describe the incident in English I hope you will excuse my small script, but the lines are few and close between and the incident is quite big.
The customer proved to be an American. She arrived into the crowded store around noon and like the many customers on this very hot Saturday she was perspiring completely. She wore a sleeveless taupe colored tunic patterned with small gray swirls over olive capri trousers and ankle socks in sturdy taupe sandals. Her brown hair was short and at the temple flecked with white. It is here that I must insist that her eyes went immediately to the ‘absolutely no photography’ sign pinned to the bookshelf across from the entryway. The American went immediately to the steep steps that lead to the upper rooms. At some discreet distance I followed her to investigate why she hurried so quickly past all the downstairs bookshelves which is the natural starting place for our touristic patrons.
At the top of the steps she glanced briefly into the reading room which overlooks the Seine with a clear view of Notre Dame Cathedral. This room she avoided, entering instead the even smaller room at the end of the long hallway which, as you know, is crammed with bookshelves which are crammed with a great deal of books (the hallway, that is, as well as the room). I hid my name tag lanyard into my shirt, smoothed my hair, and presented myself into the room, hoping to be taken for another weary customer. I reached for Gulliver’s Travels before seating myself on a small bench across from the sitting American. Over the edges of this book I was not reading (this was a mere facsimile of reading—actual reading I would not do on the job), I observed her unzip her small backpack and remove her phone. To my very complete disappointment, she then switched her phone to camera mode!
At this moment she looked up and saw me peering over my unread pages and our eyes locked. This is where I very much noticed guilt to be written on the features of her face. I ducked down behind Gulliver and the tiny men of Lilliput and when I reemerged momentarily, my suspect was gone! I leapt for the door (after placing the volume carefully into its proper shelf location) and realized the dim hallway to be quite empty of all people. But I followed my small conjecture into the Seine-overlooking reading room since this American had before glimpsed briefly inside. And that is where the incident occurred.
The woman had positioned herself with her back to the very old wood desk that sits before the wide open window. I have also thought this window makes a natural picture frame for Notre Dame. Shelves of books, as we know, wrap around the room. Her phone she held up to make a selfie. At this time I nearly cried out, but was instead too late to stop her. As I tried to enter the room to confront the American, other patrons leaving blocked my way, their elbows bent with piles of books. Finally I could enter. By this time she had sat beside a woman, a little more fat and less old than the first one, but pretty, and sweaty too. This one had a purse with a thin strap digging her shoulder and wore a skirt that was too hot for the day. I decided that if these women talked, I may acquire some evidence of the American’s indecent behavior.
I very very quietly took my phone which I carry only for emergency use from my pocket. I sat near the women, and turned on my recording app to capture the woman’s possible confession. The American said, “There, I took my picture.” The blond woman who was rubbing her shoulder said, “You took your picture.” This sounded to be a skeptical tone or maybe just judgmental. I will summarize from here. The blond woman was stubborn to talk (I think reluctant is the word for this), but when the American continued to ask her questions, the blond woman revealed she was from Sweden and her husband from England and their teenage son loved all things American. In the way she said this, I thought the mother might be on the edge between approving and disapproving her son’s admiration. The American woman asked more questions about schools and doctors and guns and life in Sweden and I think the Swedish woman finally decided to be more friendly.
The floor fan was blowing on their feet (and my feet also even though I did not kick off my shoes unprofessionally) and I believe cool feet can sometime be a little like a drug—maybe like a truth serum. The American said her friend was a librarian in Ohio who requested a picture of Notre Dame taken through this window. “I know it’s not allowed in here,” she said, “but to come all this way and disappoint my friend…” The Swedish woman said she had been at first angry to see her take the picture, since it was forbidden. But now she understood why it was important. “Besides,” she said, “you didn’t take a picture of the bookstore, only from the bookstore to the outside.” The American laughed and said she had also considered this excuse for her indiscretion.
The teenage Swedish son came to show his mother a book. She told him she had been talking to this American and when he heard this his smile broke his face to tell the story of his pleasure. He asked what books the American would like to buy. She said she had many more destinations to visit with her heavy suitcase and would sadly buy no books this day. When the American took her leave from the Swedes, I followed her down the steps and through the stacks. She was very curious to read many titles and leaf through some old volumes such as The Tell Tale Heart and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner with the gruesome etchings.
Now I know that I am writing sideways in the margin but my report will be soon finished. I followed the American outside to the umbrella tables where she stopped to point her phone again at Notre Dame. A family with many children came flooding toward her and she fell onto one knee. I think she made a very good picture of the burned towers in the background and the children’s faces close to her filled with light. This family kept the flood going to our store and the smallest girl said (my phone was still recording), “Can I get a book?” and her mother said, “Yes, but first I have to pee.” And I was the one to show her to the ladies toilets. This is when the troublesome American got away. I will turn this paper upside down to write in the upper margin.
Pardon me very much, I failed to apprehend the person who offended our rule. Here I have explained the situation, but I take full responsibility for my failure. For the future, I would like to propose one small exception to our photography policy for librarians and their friends to take a picture through our window, as long as no books shall be disturbed.
Très respectueusement,
Justine Paget
Photo Susan Weber CC BY-SA 4.0