Go to the box.

On the first day, the old man was reading a book standing by a small window, where it was brighter.
He laid it on the window, laid his elbow on his stick and carefully licked the glossy pages, then the matter was stolen looking around.
Not a library, but a bookstore.
The young saleswoman, not waiting for the old man to read and leave, felt pity and brought him a wooden pencil.
At first, the grandfather desperately protested and refused, but then he still sat down and thanked him warmly, because he stood at his age, and still for several hours in a row.
The saleswoman asked, “Just try not to get in the eyes of our head, she doesn’t welcome the bull-reader.”
Grandfather, though he promised, but still struck.
A platinum blonde, forty-five years old, passed by, she stopped, stared at the reader with an abhorrent glance, unhappy with her head and left, nervously squeezing with spikes.
A couple of times passed by the proud guard of the store, he tried to interest the uninvited reader, but the pride did not allow him and the guard left.

On the second day, grandfather again came to "his" thick-walled book, only the attack nearby did not appear, had to read standing. That day he even rewrote something from the book into his little notebook.
The seller greeted and asked to read carefully, so as not to spoil the look of the product, the book is inexpensive, and also, at least a little off the shelf, so as not to blink on the caravan paths of the head.
But sooner or later, the inevitable steel bars struck - a platinum blonde appeared on the horizon again, and by the official tone of her voice, it immediately became clear that she is the head:
- Dear friend, we don't have a reader room here, if you chose a book, please go to the box office.
Grandfather was confused, like a schoolboy who was caught with a cigarette, and guilty smiling, timidly objected:
- Yes, I would love to buy it, but a very expensive edition - 1740 rubles. Please don’t chase me, I’m very, very careful.
I understand everything, but that’s not the case either.
The platinum blonde turned and left with tight sponges.

On the third day, the wooden stroke was in place, the old man without invitation sat down and, as always, immersed himself in the reading of “his” book, but there came a young saleswoman, greeted her and as if justified herself, said:
Unfortunately, you can’t read here anymore, because of you, I’ve gotten stuck.
At this point, lightly in mind, a platinum blonde emerged from the shelf and said strictly:
-Gala, did you make me a bookshelf here again?
- All, all, Tamara Palna, he is already leaving.

The host took a three-kilogram book from the old man's hands and passionately and energetically leafled it, causing some wind. It was some sort of a thousand-page historical folion about the Romanov dynasty.
The manager looked at the seller and said:
“Go, Galia, work, I’ll do it myself.

Galia left, and the platinum blonde took the book by the corner with one hand, and... suddenly pressed her fingers. The book collapsed into the abyss and hit the floor very painfully.
Grandfather whispered, he even rushed to try to catch her attack, and where there, only his stick dropped and the homemade wafer eroded.
The manager raised the book from the floor and cried out loudly:
and galia! by Galileo! Please come here.

Galia returned, the headliner pointed to her at the bended corner of the book and said:
- Look what we have here: the corners of the turmoil and the superblock are exploded. Is this the last copy?
– Yes, Tamara Palna, the last one.
- Then take it and form the "uncondition", put 120 rubles.

Tamara Palna turned to the old man and asked:
120 is okay. Yes is? Well, this is good, for health.
Go to the box...