So yesterday I worked my first shift at one of my two new jobs -- in addition to resuming my Mon-Fri position back at the local community college, I took a job clerking on Saturdays at the local comic shop. Interesting experience so far. I've worked two other retail positions in the past -- at the bookstore for the past 10 months or so and at KB Toys in the summer of 2000 -- but those were both major chains and, as such, everything was pretty technologically up to date. If someone paid with a credit card, you swiped it and that was it. At the bookstore, if someone paid with a check, you scanned it through the register and the check was processed electronically, such that we actually gave the now void check back to the customer because it wasn't necessary to keep it.

This comic shop, however, is still pretty much in the dark ages of retail, which means calling the credit card companies and punching in merchant ID numbers and waiting for approval codes and the like. And I'm really kind of surprised that not even the inventory is done via a database -- the computer we had in '88 could've handled that sort of thing -- but it's very much a paper and pen and highlighter kind of place. Weird.

Not quite as weird as the customers, though. I imagine some folks who swing by here and Scary-Crayon think I'm a pretty nerdy guy, but I don't come anywhere close to these people. But maybe that's because I don't consider myself to be a nerd, in that I don't view being a nerd as an integral part of my identity. And what I found interesting is that it's highly apparent that some of these people do. Like any other flat stereotype, one would seriously have to go out of one's way and actually work to fit it as well as some of the folks who stepped into the store today. It's pretty amazing. Also, from listening to their conversations, I picked up on something else -- their apparent need to bullshit their way through a nerdy conversation even if they obviously know very little about the subject. This, I imagine, ties into the whole nerd-identity thing.

For example, if I considered being a hardcore Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fan to be one of the integral and prevailing components of my identity and I found myself involved in a conversation about the current run of TMNT comics, even if I hadn't read them I might do everything in my power to try to convince my interlocutors that I had, by such means as referring to other titles drawn by the artist of a particular issue, drawing comparisons between present developments in the series and earlier story arcs in older runs with which I was familiar, and so forth. However, since I'd hardly write "die-hard TMNT fan" on a "five things you should absolutely know about me" list, if such a conversation took place in my presence I'd just admit that I hadn't read the recent issues and take a back seat in the conversation.

But OH NO, not these fuckers! In fact, there often seems to be a battle for supremacy going on during these conversations in that everyone involved wants to be the most vocal and appear to be the most knowledgeable on the subject -- to the point that they'll talk over each other and ignore points made by other interlocutors in order to urge the discussion in the direction that portrays them in the most flattering nerd-light and whatnot. Just looking at them, you can tell that they feel very uncomfortable when they're not speaking. If one actually has time to take more than two breaths in between sentences, one isn't nerd-worthy and this, I imagine, makes them feel as if their identity is somehow being compromised.

I kind of understand it, given that I'd probably make it a point to be more vocal in a conversation about philosophy -- and, if we were discussing the writings of Nietzsche or Wittgenstein or Russell, whose work I haven't read in great detail but about whom I know enough to convincingly bullshit my way through a casual conversation about their ideas, I might even pretend to know more than I actually do -- but even then I can't see myself fighting to be the group leader, especially if someone else knew enough to contribute more substantial musings on the subject.

But then, that might be because the aims of philosophers are different from those of nerds. Ideally, a philosopher seeks truth, enjoys probing the ancient wisdoms and the thoughts of intelligent persons in any age, or at the very least likes taking part in stimulating intellectual discussions -- the latter of which are far less likely to obtain when everyone is just spouting off his/her mouth while jockeying to be recognized by the crowd.

On the other hand, one "becomes" a nerd -- in the active sense of the word that I have been discussing -- not because one truly enjoys reading comic books and engaging in other "nerdy" pursuits, for one could easily enjoy such things without identifying oneself as a nerd or going to such great lengths to conform to the nerd stereotype. Nor does a certain lack of popularity necessarily make one a nerd. Rather, I think people become nerds because, for an already unpopular person who is more/less invisible to his/her peers, being identified as a nerd and allying with other nerds affords one a certain measure of popularity and attention. And if this desire for recognition is the driving force behind the nerd's outward nerdiness, it makes perfect sense that nerd outings would largely consist of battles for superiority and attention. I just wonder if it's as apparent to them as it is to an outside observer.

Anyway, that's all for now -- this entry turned out to be way longer than I'd originally intended. I'm tempted to illustrate it and post it on SC! So. Thoughts? Comments? C'mon, TAB and Caren -- I'm sure you'll have something to add. 😉 Ja!