The cultural difference was deemed too great by the ownership, so after nearly two years, a manager was installed at the secondhand shop where I work. Part of the gap between the store and the owners is generational, and another part is the (hippie generation) ownership's tendency to take things too seriously; so their choice of a young and sardonic representative seems honorable to me.

Still, after working so long with relative freedom, it's a little uncomfortable to me to receive direct orders, as opposed to written down instructions that I feel I have the leeway to follow or not, as the needs of the store dictate. And although more decisions can be made on the spot, rather than going to what amounts to a board of directors, a frustrating number still can not. To some degree, I'm sure I have to fess up that it's come to this partly because I haven't used my long leash as wisely as I could.

We put up for sale today a left-handed Jesus. I don't know if that seems odd, but it certainly seems to have a touch of the occult to me. I got books from a retiring psychologist moving to Florida, and transferred the bulk portion of them to a young psychology student at prices well below normal - because it was the proper and more rewarding thing to do with the merchandise. And I finished going through my recently departed friend's books on Scotland, DIY law, Christian counseling, the Marines, computers, music, biofeedback, self-hypnosis, Christian history, pagan history, spell books, prayer books and borderline pornography. Selling them, and speaking to each buyer about the man, is the way I intend to honor his memory.