With respect to record store clerks, I didn't have the same kind of bad 
experiences with Alan at Desershore as did Bill Holmes.  When I first went 
there during the fall of '77, I must have impressed him by pointing out the 
virtues of some obscure record he liked, because from moment one I had a 
good rapport with him, and always looked forward to going there.  I will 
admit that he was a bit socially awkward (I certainly was as well, which may 
have fortified our bond), and that might have led people to misinterpret 
some of his actions, but then again, if he was really condescending to 
customers without it being warranted, that's not cool...

I guess it's just one of those cirumstances when if you meet someone at the 
wrong time it begats a very negative interaction, which leads to further, 
and often escalated, negative interactions...

For the most part, the record store clerks of my past were very cool.  I 
would count Phil Galloway of Off The Record in Encinitas as the coolest one 
I can think of now.  When I used to go there in the mid '80s, as soon as I'd 
walk in he'd put something on and say "this is really Bashian", and 90% of 
the time he'd be right!  Eventually we became very good friends, and he 
ended up moving to the Off The Record in San Diego, which he soon bought. 
(as a footnote, Phil is now involved with Reelin In The Years, the very 
lucrative and Grammy Nominated video archive company, who just released the 
Marvin Gaye "The Real Thing" DVD).

I presently love hanging out at Freakbeat Records in Sherman Oaks, CA, 
mainly because the store owner, Bob Say, and his colleague Tom, are very 
cool people who are happy to shoot the breeze about music...and they're 
happy to play anything you're curious about.  They extol the virtues of 
old-school record shops, which is great in my book.

Ironically, the rudest record store clerks whom I encountered were generally 
people who owned the shop who happened to also work behind the counter.  One 
of the worst was Norman Feinberg of Infinite Records in Manhattan.  He was 
consdescending to every customer I ever saw there, me included, in ways 
somewhat similar to those Bill Holmes attributed to Alan of Desert Shore, 
but with a much more creative use of language.  He seemed to be the ultimate 
misanthrope, but knew he could get away with it because he had an uncanny 
knack for procuring the rarest collectables anyone has ever seen (can you 
say "Original Indonesian Elvis Presley 10 inch??), and he knew people would 
put up with his BS if they really wanted his records.  In accord, his prices 
were through the roof, but again, his philosophy was, "who cares if the 
whole world tells me to f**k off, as long as there's one person who will buy 
the record I'm trying to sell?".  Because he was able to get the goods, he 
was able to get away with treating people like garbage.  I eventually 
befriended his assistant Bruce Grossberg, and therefore had the (dis) 
pleasure of often being around Feinberg.  I can tell you truckloads of 
hilarous, pathetic stories about him, but I'll spare you.  :-)

Another "paragon" was Val Shively, who owned a record shop in Upper Darby, 
Pennsylvania.  He specialized in rare '50s 45s, but had a healthy amount of 
soft pop '60s singles which he really couldn't care less about.  I really 
wanted those records, so I had to incur his barbs everytime I went there, as 
he thought that people who collected that stuff were lower than pond scum. 
I have to admit, on an objective level he was very funny, but I didn't find 
it funny when the abuse was heaped on me, which was often.  One day I 
decided I'd had enough, and vowed never to go back as long as he was in the 
store...and I never have.

Thank you for the opportunity to cleanse my soul!  :-)
--
Pop Rules!!!!!
Take Care,
David