Every regular used bookshop browser knows there’s a code of conduct that’s rarely articulated but deeply felt. After years of haunting secondhand stores across Australia, here’s what I’ve learned about being a respectful, welcome customer rather than the person shop owners dread seeing walk through the door.

Take your time, but be aware of space. Secondhand bookshops are designed for long browsing sessions—that’s part of their appeal. But in narrow aisles or small shops, be conscious of other browsers. If you’re pulling a stack of books to examine more closely, don’t camp in front of the shelf blocking everyone else’s access. Move to a reading chair or open area.

The worst offenders are people who pull out their phones to price-check every book they’re considering. This is both rude and pointless—if you only want books priced below online marketplace rates, you’re in the wrong store. Secondhand bookshops can’t and shouldn’t compete with Amazon Marketplace resellers racing to the bottom.

Don’t try to negotiate prices unless explicitly invited. The marked price is the price. Used bookshops operate on thin margins and have usually priced books fairly based on condition, scarcity, and market rates. The old “I’ll give you twenty dollars for these three” routine is insulting unless the shop specifically advertises bulk-buy discounts.

If you’re buying a significant quantity—say, a box of books for a classroom or library—then politely asking if there’s a bulk discount is acceptable. But trying to haggle down a fifteen-dollar hardcover because it has a small remainder mark is just being cheap.

Respect the organizational system, even when it’s chaotic. Some shops alphabetize rigorously by author within genre categories. Others use more idiosyncratic systems. A few embrace productive chaos as part of the browsing experience. Whatever system exists, don’t reorganize shelves according to your personal preferences.

If you pull books out to examine them and decide not to buy, make a genuine effort to return them to approximately where you found them. Dumping unwanted books randomly on different shelves creates hours of work for staff or owners who are already doing the unpaid labor of running shops that serve community cultural functions as much as commercial ones.

Understand what the shop will and won’t accept for trade-in or purchase. Most used bookshops have signs explaining their buying criteria, but people ignore these constantly. No, they don’t want your moldy water-damaged paperbacks. No, they can’t take your complete collection of 1980s Reader’s Digest condensed books. No, textbooks from 2003 have no resale value.

If you’re bringing in books to sell or trade, be realistic about value. Your undergraduate philosophy textbooks are not rare treasures. The shop already has seventeen copies of The Da Vinci Code. Condition matters enormously—a stained, spine-cracked paperback isn’t worth anything regardless of title.

The transaction goes more smoothly if you’ve done basic quality control before bringing books in. Remove anything genuinely damaged, outdated, or so mass-market that shops can’t give it away. This saves everyone time and prevents the awkward moment when the buyer rejects 80 percent of what you’ve brought.

Don’t use bookshops as free climate-controlled storage. Some people treat neighborhood bookshops like personal libraries, coming in daily to read magazines or books with no intention of purchasing. Occasional browsing and reading is fine—most shops welcome it. Setting up camp for hours consuming the inventory as a free library is exploitative.

If you’re going to read extensively in-store, buy something occasionally. Even a five-dollar paperback demonstrates that you understand the exchange relationship. Shops that provide comfortable reading chairs and ambient charm deserve support, not freeloading.

Engage with staff appropriately. Most people who work in used bookshops are passionate readers who enjoy talking about books. Brief, genuine conversations about recommendations or questions about stock are welcome. Lengthy monologues about your reading history or detailed synopses of books you’re considering are not.

Be especially careful about making assumptions based on appearance. The quiet young person shelving books might have an English literature PhD and encyclopedic knowledge of Australian fiction. The older person at the register might be the owner with forty years in the book trade. Condescension gets noticed and remembered.

Handle books with reasonable care. These are used books, not museum pieces, but basic respect for physical objects applies. Don’t crack spines, fold pages, or handle books with food-covered hands. If you spill coffee on a book, you buy it—this shouldn’t require explanation but apparently does.

Be particularly careful with anything genuinely old or valuable. If you’re browsing rare books or antiquarian stock, understand that these items are fragile and priced accordingly. The shop owner is taking a risk letting you handle them. Don’t abuse that trust.

Support the shop’s events and author appearances when possible. Many secondhand bookshops host readings, book launches, and community events that lose money but build literary culture. Attending occasionally, even if you don’t buy anything at that specific event, demonstrates that you value the shop as a cultural space beyond its commercial function.

Don’t photograph books to buy cheaper elsewhere. This has become depressingly common—people browse shops, photograph covers or ISBNs, then order the same books online for slightly less. It’s legal but parasitic behavior that treats physical bookshops as free showrooms for online retailers.

If price is your only consideration, just buy everything online and stop wasting everyone’s time. But recognize that you’re contributing to the death of the browsing culture and community spaces that many readers claim to value.

Be patient with idiosyncratic business practices. Some shops only take cash. Some are closed on seemingly random days because the owner is acquiring a collection or traveling. Some have irregular hours that reflect the reality of running a marginal business. Adapt to their constraints rather than expecting them to operate like chain retailers.

The flip side: shop owners should respect customers’ time too. If you advertise being open until 5pm, be open until 5pm. If your pricing is wildly inconsistent or your stock is genuinely inaccessible behind teetering piles, you’re creating obstacles to the business you claim to want.

The fundamental principle underlying all these guidelines is reciprocity. Secondhand bookshops provide cultural value beyond what their prices capture. Supporting them means accepting slight inconveniences, paying fair prices, and treating the space and people with respect.

Do this, and you’ll be welcomed as a regular. Ignore it, and you’ll be the person owners roll their eyes about after you leave.