Censorship or Something?

Job interviews suck. I was interviewed once for a position at a public library, and the interviewer asked me several questions about censorship. She asked me about my time as a bookseller for a national bookseller chain (the one that begins with the letter "B"), and how that company would handle the sale of an "offensive" book. I informed her that the company only "regulated" the sale of one and only one book, The Anarchist's Cookbook, which was sold only by special order, and customers needed to prove they were at least 18 years old at time of order and again at time of purchase. All other titles were stocked openly on the shelves.

She then asked me about a specific title, Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I said that Tropic of Cancer was not The Anarchist's Cookbook, and therefore was stocked openly on the shelves. Oddly enough, she asked me what would happen if someone who couldn't prove his age wanted to by a copy of Tropic of Cancer, and I said that, yet again, the sale of Tropic of Cancer was not regulated, and that anyone could buy the book.

Next, she created a scenario in which someone purchased a copy of Tropic of Cancer, was offended by its content, and returned to the store to complain. I said that in my three years of working in a bookstore, not once did a customer complain to me about the content of a book, and that most people who buy an "offensive book" never actually read it. She asked me why, and I said, "I don't know for sure, but most 'offensive books' are challenging literature, and therefore, not easy to read." Seriously, if you were looking for a book to masturbate to, you'd buy of a volume of Letters to the Penthouse Forum, not Tropic of Cancer. Besides using the requisite terms "fuck" and "cunt," Mr. Miller uses big words and complex concepts, which are kryptonite to the casual reader. For example, where else could you read about a man discussing Dostoevsky with a woman as he inserts live toads into her anus (metaphorically speaking)?

Like most job interviews, the topic of conversation next turned to pornography. The interviewer asked me if we sold "porno," and the conversation went on like this:

"The store I worked in sold what corporate preferred to call 'men's sophisticate' magazines, like Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler."

"Would you sell a copy to a minor?"

"No, selling a men's sophisticate magazine to a minor is against corporate policy and the law."

"To whom would you sell a copy?"

"Anyone at least 18 years old at time of purchase."

"How would you know if they were 18 years old?"

"I would request to see proper identification."

"What constitutes proper identification?"

"Any government-issued ID, like a driver's license."

"What if they didn't have any ID?"

"I wouldn't allow them to purchase the magazine."

"Why not?"

"If there were any question as to whether or not the customer was of age and if that same customer couldn't produce valid, government-issued ID, I wouldn't allow them to purchase the magazine because it would be against the law. The company and I would be in big trouble."

She was convinced that it was my personal beliefs that would not allow this imaginary minor to purchase Playboy, rather than the frigging law. I later learned from someone on the inside, if you know what I mean, that this woman was obsessed with pornography, and didn't want anyone on staff cramping her style, or something. Whatever, dork. Personally, I don't give a damn who "reads" Playboy (for literary reviews, political commentary, and tits), but it was against corporate policy and, more importantly, the law (you fucktard), to sell anything of that ilk to children. Apparently, I had entered the Bizarro World, because to get a job I had to prove that I really enjoyed top-notch porn. Though I did want to smack her across the face with a big iron dildo.