Once Upon a Time in Kinokuniya

"Tell you what, son. If you want to buy books, I will always give you the money for them – no questions asked. Buy as many as you want."

My Dad, when I was in primary five (1997)

"Err, do you really need to read this much?"

My Dad to me, during the last holiday (2007)

One of my Dad’s unexpected regrets in life. Some things just cannot be foreseen.

Now that the MPH advertisement from my sidebar is gone, I think it’s finally ethical for me to talk about one of my favourite places in the world; the Kinokuniya in KLCC.

This is a flashback post, by the way, and events which I described in it happened more than two years ago. I was suddenly reminded about it and decided that it is simply too good a tale not to share with you guys.

Welcome to my religion. Remember, Kinokuniya is the choice of King Leonidas.

I remember this particular trip to Kinokuniya for three reasons;

1. It was my first.
2. It was the day I managed to lay my hands (finally) on the last book of the Bartimaeus Trilogy (Ptolemy’s Gate), the entire Earthsea series and the His Dark Materials trilogy¹.
3. It was the time Kinokuniya gave me a one-receipt 15% discount on my next visit.
   

I arrived in KL and KLCC in the morning with my Dad and Lil’ Sis and we had a ‘rather quiet’ breakfast in the McD in the food court² - ‘quiet’ because I was reading some novel (as usual), and Sis was reading some manga, and ‘rather’ because my Dad was having a monologue by himself about the health concerns of having breakfast in McD, and how he wishes that his kids would talk more instead of being such massive bookworms.

At about noon, after my Sis managed get the two issues of her favourite manga, Fruit Basket (or Furaba, whatever), my Dad and her left KLCC for Midvalley Megamall, leaving me on my own for the rest of the day in the company of the TGV cineplex³ and Kinokuniya there. With adequate funding, I am perfectly capable of keeping myself entertained for days in spite of having to be on my own.

I had my reservations when Keat Seong, a colleague of mine in Taylor’s College, told me that I can get ‘whatever shit book’ I want from there but nevertheless, I brought my very pregnant ‘List of Books I Want to Read Before I Die’ anyway, hoping that I can at least tick some off it. On my first visit, I was completely blown away. I almost got a bloody heart attack watching the cute girl sitting at the information counter mark title after title on my list, telling me that most of them are available (all of which were ‘not in stock’ in crummy ol’ MPH). I left Kinokuniya with two shopping bags filled to their brims. I was glad that my Mom lent me her credit card. My mom wasn't.

Okay, okay, I’ll stop writing my Declaration of Undying Love to Kinokuniya
and speed off to the part where I get the discount.

I spent the rest of the day sitting in Secret Recipe, devouring my hardcover edition of Ptolemy’s Gate from cover to cover, and a couple of cheesecakes besides. About three hours before KLCC went into lockdown for the day, I returned to Kinokuniya to see if I could fill up another shopping bag with books.

Unlike my earlier visit, which was brief and decisive (since I had my list with me), my second sojourn was slow and meandering. I carefully and systematically scanned every shelf in the Fantasy, Fiction, Classics, Sci-fi, and Children sections for interesting titles to leap up at me⁴. All the while, I was toting both my shopping bag filled with my prior purchases. I simply couldn’t bear to leave them anywhere when I finally have them in my hands after practically spending years to look for them (yes, I have strange attachments to inanimate objects – so go call the funny farm on me).

Unbeknownst to me, someone was shadowing and watching me closely.

At about 10 pm, my Dad and Sis came into Kinokuniya to tell me that it was time we head back to Malacca. With a heavy heart, I left the establishment with a half-filled third shopping bag, swearing solemnly that I would be back there before long.

Just as I was about to board the elevator, someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around and faced two Malay men. In that shortest of delay, the elevator closed, separating me from my family. One of the Malay men rudely relieved me of one of my shopping bags, took out my copy of Ptolemy’s Gate from it (which I’ve finished reading) and waved it in my face asking, "Where did you get this book from?" in Malay.

This is the book I'm talking about.

"I bought it from Kinokuniya," I replied defiantly in English, just to spite him.

"Where is the price tag and sensor tag⁵?" he questioned me further, still speaking in Malay. At this point, I guessed that they must be some sort of security officers from the bookshop.

"I removed them. It’s my property. I can do what I like with it," I said in English again (I kept mentioning the languages we used because it’s important – you’ll see why later). I always remove whatever stuff the bookshops stick on books – price tag, discount stickers, etc – before I read them. It’s a personal quirk of mine. I won’t read a book unless this ritual is performed. That’s why I don’t usually hang out in bookshops and read for free *throws a sidelong glance at Jen and Beverly*.

"Where’s your receipt for this," he said, loudly enough so some people turned their heads. And yes, he was still speaking in Malay.

My face went red, with a mixture of embarrassment and explosive rage. If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it is false accusations against my person. I searched all three of my shopping bags for that receipt, eager to show how badly the bastard had wronged me – but it wasn’t there. With a rising sensation of panic, I checked my wallet and dug deep into my cluttered pockets⁶ – but the infernal receipt would not be found at all.

"Follow us back to the shop," he said smugly, when he saw that I was in distress. Yes, in Malay.

Biting my lips to stop myself from leaping at him and chewing his nose out, I decided to do as he said. In front of the elevators teeming with shoppers wasn’t the best place in the world to start a potentially injurious scene.

There, he called his manager (a bespectacled Chinese man) and they began to bombard me with questions. I remained adamant that I purchased the book with good money and would not yield. To save you time, I’ll list my arguments down;

1. The security guard did not see me in the act of taking the book down from the shelf, removing the price and sensor tags, and then putting it in one of my shopping bags (I can say this confidently because I knew that I didn’t).
2. There’s no CCTV proof either.
3. The book belongs to me so it is within my rights to remove the tags if I want to, and it wasn't written anywhere in the shop at all that I wasn't allowed to do so.
4. The receipt belongs to me as well and if I want to lose it, it’s damn well none of their bloody business.
5. The book could very well be something I brought from home or bought from some other bookshop and they have no right at all to detain and question me like this.
6. The plainclothes shop detectives who detained me were ugly, and were just trying to score a promotion by framing innocent shoppers like me. Mostly because they are ugly.
   

The combined arguments of the two plainsclothes shop detectives (in Malay) and the manager (in broken English) was;

1. The book had no price and sensor tags and I have no receipt to show for it (which is moot; refer to my argument #1, #2, #3, #4, and #5).
2. I was acting suspicious because I spent inordinately long periods of time looking at the shelves in different sections, and had been wandering in the shop for the past 3 hours (I understand that the plainclothes shop detectives are probably retarded illiterates, and had never visited a bookshop to buy books before in their entire pathetic lives).
3. Repetition of their argument #1 and #2 like corrupted mp3 files broken records because they are too dumb to think of any more to use against me.
   

It was a stalemate. By that time, my Dad, seeing that I did not follow him to the car park, came back to find me and had joined the fray. My Dad threatened a lawsuit, and cited numerous consumer rights etc. While they are squabbling, I reached into my pockets once again and – what do you know? – the receipt was sitting in there all along.

I smiled a very wicked smile before announcing my find.

Theatrically, I raised the crumpled receipt much higher than I need to so everyone who was watching the drama can see it. The manager, now red in the face as well (probably from trying to argue in English because I lied to him that I didn’t understand Mandarin or Cantonese, LOL) practically snatched the receipt from my hand to read it. The redness instantly disappeared from his face – and he became ghostly white. One of the shop detectives (the one that didn’t argue much and probably suspected that they have made a mistake because I wouldn’t yield and admit), inched away inconspicuously at the moment I produced the receipt. He was jumping the sinking ship.

What ensued was the most fun time I’ve ever had in a very, very, very long time. I doubled the volume of my voice and started berating the manager and the remaining (dumber) shop detective with so much gusto you’d think I’m savouring a juicy, bit of lamb chop covered in garlic-butter gravy. They tried to cover their asses lamely by saying I shouldn’t have removed the price and sensor tags, and that I should have produced the receipt earlier (by this time, the shop detective have started to speak to me in English – I consider that a decisive victory). I responded by reiterating my argument #3, #4, #5 and (especially) #6 at triple my volume. I spent at least half an hour shouting them into submission, till both of them hung their heads low in shame of being shouted at by some teenager while many people watched on. My Dad and Sis just stood by quietly, not daring to interrupt me because they were totally awed at my awesome scolding powerz⁷.

The shop detectives could have approached me while I was inside the shop and ask me about the book, but nooooo - they have to wait till I walk out of the premises and then shamed me in front of the other shoppers. It was very obvious that the prevention of shoplifting was secondary to whatever sadistic, sick pleasure the bastards get from embarrassing supposed shoplifters. I practically beat their heads to pulp with that.

Well, to stop this long story from getting even longer, my wasted time and ‘public humiliation’ was compensated with that one-receipt 15% discount I mentioned earlier and a formal apology letter. Frankly, I can demand more but;

1. I felt bad for the manager and the shop detective since they were on the receiving end of most of the ‘public humiliation’ anyway ("...for I am a kind and merciful god," to quote King Xerxes from 300)
   
2. I don’t want them to think that I’m an opportunistic asshole that staged the whole charade just so I can score a discount.
3. It was seriously great fun to scold adults till they hang their heads in shame. I sincerely thank them for the experience. And yes, I’m thoroughly evil. ("THIS... IS... SPARTA!!!" to quote King Leonidas, also from 300)
   

I saved about RM100 on my next visit. I’d have bought more if I didn’t already slash out most of the items in my ‘List of Books I Want to Read Before I Die’ earlier. Damn.

Nowadays, I still tear the price and sensor tags off my Kinokuniya purchases and return later that day to browse.

I can hope, can't I?

P.S. If you’re interested in how many books I usually buy every time I visit Kinokuniya, here’s a list from my last visit before I came back here to India; CLICK ME.

P.P.S. KinoKuniya has two K's in it. See? We are made for each other.



I heart Kinokuniya,
k0k s3n w4i

¹ Before that, I spent nearly a year and over a hundred MPH visits being disappointed by the same answer of, "Sorry, but we don’t have these books in stock." I mean, these books aren’t the usual obscure titles I hunt for (case in point being Hope Mirrlees’ Lud-in-the-Mist which neither Kinokuniya nor Borders stocked). They are international bestsellers for Hitler’s sake! MPH should just fire their entire Stock Replenishment Department (or whatever you call ‘em) and hire me. They can pay me in books.
² You know a mall is posh when they consider McD as food court food.
³ Yes, TGV is the preferred choice of k0k bL0k. I worked in GSC before so trust me, I know.
⁴ I bought the first book of the Bartimaeus Trilogy (The Amulet of Samarkand) and my-favourite-book-ever, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, because I thought that their titles and covers were cool. You CAN judge a book by its cover, y’know.
⁵ If you don’t already know, hidden in between the pages of all the books in Kinokuniya is some sort of magnetic(?) sensor tag that would set off the alarm if you try to leave with an unpaid book. Apparently, the Malay bloke spotted the missing price tag while I was browsing.
⁶ Those that have seen me reach into my pockets to pay for stuff before can tell you just how insanely cluttered my pockets really are. You can find paperclips, old receipts, sweet wrappers, stones with odd shapes that I have picked up, screws and once, a lighter, even though I don’t smoke.
⁷ It’s not often that I lose my temper completely. There’s only one other time I did it and that was to a friend of mine that ffk (‘fong fei kei’) some buddies and I on New Year’s Eve Day. Everyone was also totally awed at my awesome scolding powerz when I verbally attacked the bloke when he finally came. They said that they have never seen someone scold someone else for a whole hour with so much passion before. By the way, that bloke and I are still friends (Sorry, for that time, wei!).