I Hate Me, part 671,991
Jack’s Music opens at 9:30 on Saturdays. My band played the night before and I was a little under the weather, I don’t snap back after a late night like I used to. There was a guy at the front door, waiting for us to open. He was young, disheveled, loud, a fast talker with an Irish brogue. He was talking and walking.
“You’re open? Good, I gotta lot of records to sell. I got ‘em for my girlfriend but she dumped me and kept the good ones then I got a bunch from I guy I know who’s messed up on heroin and my girl kept some of those but I still gotta lot of good ones, well maybe they’re not good, I dunno, that’s your job right? yeah, hahaha. So I got a truck with stacks of em, miles of ‘em. I got a sell ‘em cause I’m trying to get back to Ireland, I ain’t never been there but I wanna go. Workin’ on my accent, pretty good, no? I’ll be right back.”
Fuckin’ hell, that’s not what I needed to start the day off. He went out the back door, I was hoping it was a case of a ne’er do well just wanting to use the store as a short cut. A couple of minutes later he came out of a beat to hell pick-up truck with a giant stack of records and then a second stack and then a third. Five trips all together. A lot of goddamn records. It looked like salvage crew stuff. The majority of them were really shitty records in really shitty shape. However, there was just enough good records to make it worthwhile. The guy was still trying to maintain the illusion that they were his records and was commenting on them and generally slowing things down to a crawl with his “help”.
“Ooooh, that’s a good one, no?”
“No, first of all it’s a Moody Blues record…and it’s empty”
“Oooh…my girlfriend must have just kept the record part then.”
“yeah, that makes sense…look man, this will go a lot faster if you just let me get through it”
“ok..ok…I hear ya big man.”
So, he stood about a foot further back from where he was standing and stared unblinkingly at the process.
We made a deal for the records we wanted and he lugged the unusable records away. On the last trip out he took the top record from the stack, a Living Strings waltz record
“Thanks a lot. Here, this is for you” he looked to see what record he actually chose, “It’s…Waltzes..yeah..you play these for the ladies…the ladies”
And off he went, there was half a record in the sleeve.