Archive for the ‘ I LIKE RECORDS ’ Category

I Hate Me, 438,911


Busy day, waiting to go out for coffee. This weird little middle aged guy in shorts and a half shirt came in with a small stack of records. For the most part they were beat to shit but he had a couple of decent ones. He was describing each one before he gave it to me, he handed me a Beach Boys-Greatest Hits
“Here’s one, the fuckin’ Beatles, this gottttta be worth a buck, right?
“That’s The Beach Boys, man and it’s pretty scratched up”
“No, man that’s the fuckin’ Beatles. It’s got some old weed in it and shit but it’s a good one…it’ll play.”
“Yeah, no. It’s way too scratchy and it ain’t the Beatles”
He gave me a palm up shrug, with a smirk (you win this battle)
“How about this one, fuckin’ Cheech and Chong- Big Bambu, you know this one right?”
“Yeah, but it’s only really worth anything if it has the giant rolling paper in it”
“No man, it don’t…I lent this to my ex…and she probably took it…you know how that shit goes…Oh, and it’s scratched up”
yeah, man you’re not really selling me on it.”
“really? ”
We settled on a price for the ones I wanted and I went out for coffee. I saw the guy as I was going into Starbucks, “Hey record dude, coffee. Yeah!”

...and it's scratched

…and it’s scratched


I Hate Me, part 446,186

It was a slow day at work until about fifteen minutes before Matt left for the day. It seemed like the bus from crazytown (not the band) made an unscheduled stop, which it often does. A woman was asking for a ton of different cd’s, most of it was late 90’s metal and soul. She was asking for them in half song titles and misheard lyrics but no band names. I would show her a section she was looking for and before I could turn around, she would be asking another question from a different part of the store. It had the vibe of one of those Japanese horror movies where there are people who crawl out of TV sets, swivel their heads and crawl on the wall. While this was going on another guy was asking if I was going to see Steely Dan at the Count Basie, I wasn’t. He wasn’t either but…”Yeah, I paid $50 to see Andrew Dice Clay there and it was great, he still got it…about 100 women walked out…yeah he still got it. He did new stuff but he didn’t do any nursery rhymes…so when he was done, I ran up front and yelled NURSERY RHYMES, MOTHERFUCKER! and he turned around, looked at me and he did all the nursery rhymes…yeah, he’s like Bob Dylan…nobody wants to hear your new shit, dude. They wanna hear the old stuff…the stuff that made you great.” The 90’s metal/soul woman was there for another hour but bought a few cd’s.

he's like Bob Dylan

he’s like Bob Dylan

I Hate Me, part 472,914

One of the many problems of being a middle aged man who works at a record store that you don’t own is that you get mistaken as the owner. This usually happens by the tire kickers who come in on friday nights while they’re waiting for a table to open up at a local restaurant. They’re not buying anything, they just want to look. Which is fine, a lot of the time I get a variation of,
“This is a great store, I hear records are making a comeback …you must be Jack”, (because why else would a middle aged man be working at a record store). “Thank you but I’m not Jack, I just work here” Most of the time I get a pitying look that seems to say “mmm I understand, times are tough…I’m sure things will pick up”. I respond to the pitying look with a wan smile and the transaction is over.
Last week a guy came in who was easily in his mid sixties and was looking through used records. I was on the other side of the counter pricing a large stack of them.
“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid” to nobody in particular
“….yeah, a long time…”
“Well Jacks has been here for over forty years.”
“…’re Jack, right?”
“How could I be Jack? I’m younger than you…I didn’t open the store when I was a child.”
“yeah, but I thought…”
“yeah?….thought what?…a…a time machine was involved?”
I stopped, bit my tongue a little too late, melted into the back room, slunk out another door and got a coffee.

the only way a 52 year old man could open up a record store 42 years ago

the only way a 52 year old man could open up a record store 42 years ago

I Hate Me, part, 422,916

I’m at work. Middle aged drunk guy sails over to the used LP section, The music that’s playing is the latest Daft Punk CD.
Guy- ugggghhhhhh! I’ve heard this a million times.
Me-Well, everyone who works here gets a turn to play what they want.
Guy- Yeah, it’s great but c’mon……hey you guys got good vinyls here.
Me-mmmmmm(thru gritted teeth)
Guy-whaddya know about this John Fogerty vinyl (holds up a copy of John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band-Tough All Over)
Me-Yeah, that’s not John Fogerty, it’s John Cafferty. he was an 80’s Springsteen knock-off.
Guy-Oh..Cause I never heard any of his stuff after Creedence, maybe I’ll check it out.
Me-That’s not the guy from Creedence, his name is FOGERTY, not CAFFERTY
Guy-…yeeeaaaah, I don’t know……………
Me- ……….Yeah, you should definitely get it, its his best album.
He did.

John Fogerty's greatest album

John Fogerty’s greatest album



I’ve been busy and lazy, a shit combination for somebody who says he likes to write…Some notes from over the Christmas holidays at work:

Older guy who comes in, a bit off, likes old nudist movies, it’s almost wholesome at this point. He bought a Playboy dvd a few years ago and it freaked him out.
Guy-Do you have any other nudist movies?
Me- No man, I think you got all we could get in
Guy-……… can you get any others?
Me-I’d need a title, we don’t have a breakdown of nudist movies on our computer that we can order.
Silence and he’s not leaving, it’s getting (more) uncomfortable
Me-……yeah…..I’d need a title….to order
Guy-……….mmmmmmmm………happy nude year?
Me-Diiid you just make that title up?
I looked up the title, no go.
Me- not listed, sorry
I went into the back until he left

Crazy drunk guy ordered 2 copies of Dr. Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band. Was really psyched when they came in and started to make a bit of a commotion, it was about 11am
Guy-Alright I got my two and I need two more! They make great fucking gifts! So then I’ll have four, right!?
Me- yeah, ok two more, we’ll give you a call.
Guy-And then I need six more
Me-Ok, so you want eight more all together.
Guy-No! I want six more pluuuuuss the two I ordered.
Me-the two you ordered last week and just picked up or the two you just ordered thirty seconds ago?
Me-OK, try and follow me here, you ordered two last week and picked them up today
Me- then you ordered two more, about a minute ago
Me- then you just ordered six more after that
Me-So that’s eight (I held up 8 fingers) more you’re ordering all together?
Guy………………….yesssssss…..eighhhht more
A week later we get his order in and he comes in to pick them up. He comes to the back counter to complain
Guy- Did I order eight of these?
Me-Yeah.. you bought two then ordered two more then ordered six more right after that. You said they make gifts
Guy-They do…I must have been drunk but they do make great gifts.

I hear they make great gifts

I hear they make great gifts


I Hate Me, part 390,008/I LIKE RECORDS 81

An over cologned heavy set guy in his thirties dressed in oversized basketball gear brought in a small stack of cd’s to sell. He was loudly talking on his phone while trying to communicate with me through a series of nods and shrugs.
Guy-”yeah, yeah, yeah I’m sellin’ cd’s…yeah you know I don’t like girls…no no no! I LIKE girls but I don’t like…uh real skinny ones..but ah..ya know I don’t like BIG girls.. yeah….uh.. what?!…nonono…no…I ain’t…no, I ain’t shallow…no..look I’ll be honest with you, I’m real smart…I’m into stuff….Yeah, I know I’m big…but I’m…it ain’ it ain’t the same…I’m like uh…like a football player…or somethin’…yeah…like that…that kind a big…”
It took me about five seconds to know we couldn’t use any of his cd’s, mostly scratchy Eminem and Limp Bizkit titles but I wanted to hear where his conversation was going.
Me- “sorry man, I can’t use any of these”
Guy- “…hold on ok….(to me)…really bro?!…none of ‘em…can’t use none of ‘em…bro?…c’mon…Bizkit, bro, Bizkit”
I shrugged my shoulders with my palms up, the international sign of “sorry man, can’t help you” and then I vanished into the back room.

"Bizkit, bro. Bizkit"

“Bizkit, bro. Bizkit”


There’s a guy who has invented a kind of hipster jive talk when going through the used records. He’s a mumbler and usually wrong when talking about records. This isn’t usually an issue, customers talk a lot of inane woolyheaded bullshit while looking through the records. I don’t comment on it, because who cares if I think they’re wrong. This guy is one of those “Am I right?” guys and I usually shrug my shoulders, stare at the ground and mumble “ahhh..Idunnoman”, it’s pretty annoying. One time he tried to tell me that guitarist Charlie Byrd was the same person as saxophonist Charlie Parker, who’s nickname was “Bird”. He couldn’t be convinced even though one was white and one was black and they played different instruments. Last night he came in and found Huey Lewis and The News-Sports:
“Oh…yeah..this onethisone Huey and the Lews..30million 40million bigger than Thrillers..MichaelsThrillers…right?”
yeahyeahyeah…lookitup…Huey man…bigbigBIGrecord”
“mmmm…didn’t know that…we’re closin’ up ”
“that’s what I’m talkin’ about, Huey and the Lews.”
I started turning off the lights.

Huey and the Lews

Huey and the Lews


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