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| From | "Holmes Online" <bholmes_fm@msn.com> |
| Subject | Rude Record Store Clerks |
| Date | Sun, 14 May 2006 09:19:46 -0400 |
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From: "Mike Nicholson" <mnick@nc.rr.com>
> This would be a great thread.
Presto ipso facto bingo! Now it is.
> I'll start it off by saying that I was the rudest record store clerk in
> the known universe between June 1980 and February 1983 at the Record
> Exchange in Greensboro, NC.
I think David Bash and Carl Cafarelli will back me up on this one: Alan, the
owner of Desert Shore Records in Syracuse. Sneering, condescending,
untrusting miscreant who would mock out his own customers for their
selections. And god forbid you tried to SELL him a record - he's waft
through the titles laughing out loud, bleating "this SUCKS!" or "what a
FAG!"...after a couple of minutes of abuse he'd finally offer that person
fifty cents for one record out of a stack of twenty...if that dose of
humiliation wasn't enough and the customer would accept, he'd pay off in
nickels and dimes and then SMASH the album to smithereens on the counter
right in front of the customer.
Not a sweeping generalization in life (and Mike is an exception as I have
met him and he doesn't strike me as this type), but is there an equation
that says the ruder the asshole you are, the bigger the loser you really
are? I traveled the same paths as Alan and knew many people in common, and I
think his persona and rude glee came from the fact that outside of that
world he was incapable of human interaction. I didn't know a soul (and I
knew a LOT of people in town) who could be considered a friend, and I never
saw him anywhere else. I suspect he was as lonely and bitter a person as he
appeared...so maybe he gets points for not being a phony. :)
I did spend some time behind the counter at Gerber's and Record Theatre in
Syracuse; the former employed some of the greatest people I ever met
(despite the fact that the owner was a complete asshole) and the latter gave
me the ability to broadcast whatever I was into to the subjects of Syracuse
University including the stoner denizens of the "beach" on Marshall Street.
Sweet life. Every payday I'd have to dip into my pocket and pay THEM because
of what I bought that week. Wouldn't trade a moment of it.
b
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