RECORD STORE TALES Part 289: Tom’s Frozen Beater
This is a previously unreleased story! It was first recorded in audio format only, as a special “exclusive” Record Store Tale for Sausagefest XII. Now, the text version is available for all to enjoy — a rare exclusion to the “What happens at Sausagefest, stays at Sausagefest” rule.
It was early in 1995, winter. The near-legendary Tom, who today hosts Sausagefest every year, was working the day shift at our mall store. I was working the 5-9 shift. As was my modus operandi, I showed up early (about 4:30) to check out the new stock and do bank runs. Tom and I caught up for a bit; he was acting as store manager for the moment and let me know what needed to be done.
His shifted ended, Tom met some of his friends at the store, and departed. I began my shift and started pricing new CDs for sale.
10 minutes later, Tom and his friends stormed back into the store.
It was the first time I had ever seen Tom enraged.
“Jeez, is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you have lock de-icer on you,” Tom responded. I did not have lock de-icer. I had walked to work.
I’m assuming the Zellers store in the mall was also sold out of de-icer, because Tom’s next proposed solution surprised me.
“Fuck it. I’ll just sleep here tonight. I have to open tomorrow anyway. Yeah, fuck it. This is fine. I’ll fucking just lie down in between Easy Listening and Rap. Fuck it. Yeah. Fuck, I’m sleeping here tonight.”
Great googly-moogly! Was that even allowed? Tom scoped out that section of floor, eyeballing it, making mental measurements.
“Fuck, this is perfect, I’ll just sleep right there on the floor.”
Thankfully one of Tom’s friends found some hot water from the mall coffee shop, and with some effort they got one of the car’s doors open. If they hadn’t, it might have been the first time somebody slept on the floor! (It would not have been the last time – a homeless man fell asleep on my floor in the middle of the afternoon once.)
Tom however has a different conclusion to the story: “A little piss on the lock and voila…”