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| From | "Sager, Greg" <greg.sager@bankofamerica.com> |
| Subject | Re: Rude Record Store Clerks |
| Date | Mon, 15 May 2006 03:59:58 -0400 |
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> Date: Sun, 14 May 2006 09:19:46 -0400
> From: "Holmes Online" <bholmes_fm@msn.com>
> To: <audities@smoe.org>
> Subject: Rude Record Store Clerks
> Message-ID: <BAY113-DAV16204702F373B8CCE8E68AE3A20@phx.gbl>
>
> 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.
This is pretty funny, because my own Desert Shore Records purchase story
is the exact opposite. I once went in there with my younger brother and
his friend Phil when I was home from college on Christmas break, and I
bought a couple of albums. I think it was the only time I ever bought
anything there; Phil hung out on the Hill a lot more than I did back
then. I have no idea if the clerk was Alan or somebody else, but I
bought the Flamin' Groovies' *Flamingo* and *Teenage Head* (I'd read
about them in *Trouser Press*, so I figured that they must be cool even
though they looked like a hippie band on the cover of *Flamingo*), and
the clerk complimented me on my purchase.
I don't doubt a word you say about Alan, of course. I guess that I just
stumbled unwittingly into looking like a much cooler teenage head than I
actually was.
(In retrospect, the clerk was probably Phil's buddy Dave Egan, who also
used to work there. Maybe you or David or Carl remember him as well.)
> 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.
You probably sold me Aerosmith and Blue Oyster Cult albums while you
were behind the counter at Gerber's when I was a kid, Bill. Thanks for
not venting on me. ;-)
The rudest clerks I've ever encountered were at the notoriously uber-hip
Wax Trax Records on N. Lincoln Avenue in Chicago during my collegiate
and immediate post-collegiate days. I probably bought more albums there
than I ever did at any one record store, but not without constantly
tiptoeing around landmines of attitude. The in-store barometer of cool
was the industrial music of the house label (Front 242, Ministry,
Revolting Cocks, etc.), which was constantly played at top volume in the
store, and whatever flavor of hardcore punk was in that week. Woe to you
if your intended purchase didn't make the grade. The only time in my
life I've ever told off a clerk was when some pincushioned loser at Wax
Trax made a sneering comment about the Replacements' *Let It Be* while
he was ringing it up for me.
Gregory Sager
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