Date: 2004/08/10
On this Marillion live disc, Fish just dedicated the entire Misplaced Childhood record to Phil Lynott…he must have just passed away when it was recorded. That’s heavy, man. My two lyrical heroes, Fish and Lynott…
Date: 2004/08/24
Crazy to think that I’ve been in this business for 10 years, and only now am I starting to listen to Buddy Holly. Sad to think what I’ve been missing all these years! I can’t believe how great Buddy’s music was. It’s really clicking with me, I just love Buddy Holly!
Date 2005/01/30
Some dude was just in here throwing a pencil at us because he didn’t have a receipt. I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT. I need to get THE FUCK out of here.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 298: Why I Couldn’t Give You A Quote Over the Phone
We advertised that we paid cash or credit for used CDs. A lot of customers used to call with the titles of their CDs, to get a quote over the phone for selling them. “Hey, I have 30 CDs here to sell, if I read off the titles, can you tell me what you’ll pay me for them?”
The answer was no, for a number of good reasons. For us, buying used CDs wasn’t a science. We tried to create a system as best we could, but there were so many variables. In addition, a lot of the process is subjective. I’ll try to help you understand.
First and foremost – quality. We were exceptionally picky about all discs that we bought. If the disc was scuffed, we could buff certain scratches out. (Not top scratches and pinholes though! They are a whole other chapter to the story.) A lot of customers would call and say, “My discs are all mint.” Well, I found that for some, “mint” had a broad definition. It could mean anything to brand-new to scratched like a hockey rink. If a customer said “mint” you couldn’t go by that. Likewise with “they all play fine.” Until I look at it, I don’t know if it’s in a condition good enough to sell to my customers. You probably have your own standards regarding CDs you want to keep in your collection.
But there’s more to quality than just the CD itself. Is the front cover present? How about the back? A lot of customers discarded the back covers, in order to store their discs in those stupid travel wallets. Bad idea, since those wallets scratch up CDs, sometimes beyond repair. Not to mention, we wouldn’t take a CD missing its back cover. Maybe the front cover is also water damaged – we couldn’t take a CD when the pages of the book were stuck together like a teenager’s Playboy mag. That happened a lot more often then you might expect.
When it came down to the pricing of the CD, we had a lot of additional factors to consider. How much do we sell it for? How many copies do we have? Do any of our other stores need a copy? It is rare, or scarce to find used? For example, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon was not a rare CD, but it was hard to find copies used in good condition. I’d be interested in paying more for Dark Side of the Moon than I would Van Halen’s Balance, even if we sold them both for the same price.
Let’s say you’re an annoying customer, and you called my store looking for a price quote. Let’s say the person answering the phone forgot the rules, and gave you a quote over the phone. Then when you actually come in to sell them, I’m working instead, not the person who gave you the price quote. So imagine that scenario.
You come in and I start going through the discs. Immediately, you’re pissed off that I’m passing on that scratched up Metallica CD that somebody quoted you $5 for. The reason? A hard-to-spot top scratch that cannot be fixed. Or a missing back cover. Or a deep scratch I can feel with my fingernail. Or perhaps I could take it, but I need to have the scratches buffed out and I can only pay you $2-3.
Then next up, you have a Guess Who Greatest Hits. When you called for your quote, I had none in stock. Now I have two. (It happens!) So I can’t give you what the other person quoted, because now I have two copies and I don’t need it as badly.
Finally, let’s say you were quoted that you were going to get $3 for your Hanson CD. The person you spoke to on the phone saw that we didn’t have any Hanson in stock. However, I know that is an unusual happenstance and we always have tons of Hanson everywhere. I might pay a buck where somebody else offered you $3, because I know better. Them’s the breaks, right?
This doesn’t even account for other stupid things that can happen. For example, a customer saying to you that he has Metallica Garage Days when he actually has Garage Inc. Basically if you could think of a way information could be miscommunicated over the phone, it happened.
Customers seldom understood. “I don’t want to come all the way down there unless I know I’m going to get good money for these discs.” Unfortunately, coming down there was the only way. No ifs, ands, buts, or exceptions. People sucked sometimes.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 297: “The World Must Change”
1997. A middle-aged mustached gentleman walked into my store with Eric Clapton’s latest single, “Change the World”.
“Hi,” he said. “I bought this at HMV, but it’s not what I wanted. I’m looking for a song, I think it’s called “The World Must Change”. Do you know it?
I searched my memory for a bit but drew a blank.
“I heard it on the radio. It’s a real hard-driving song,” he said, “and I could swear in the lyrics, he was singing ‘the world must change’. I told the girl at HMV and she said it was Eric Clapton. She sold me this, and it’s definitely not the right song.”
If he told the girl at HMV that it was a “hard-driving” song, I don’t know how she came up with “Change the World”, unless she’d never heard “Change the World” before. It is anything but hard-driving.
The fellow searched my rock section for pretty much any CD that look like it had songs about changing the world, and listened to a number of them, but came out blank.
A Google search today reveals little, aside from a George Benson song called “Everything Must Change”, but that is even further away from “hard-driving” than the Clapton track.
He ended up selling his Clapton single to me for $2, because HMV wouldn’t take it back once opened. It was a huge drop from the $9.99 sticker price, and he wasn’t happy, but $2 was pretty much top dollar for us to buy CD singles at the time (unless you had something rare, like an old Metallica single). I felt genuinely bad that I couldn’t find that song for him. I suggested he call the radio station on which he heard the track.
Now today, I appeal to the Internets at large: Any ideas what song it could have been? Post a comment!
RECORD STORE TALES Part 296: Four Musical Child Names
Some parents choose regrettable names for their children. None of the names below were intrinsically bad, except perhaps in the case of the former Nirvana fan. Here are four names from children I met in the record store days, and the music that inspired them…
1. Kurdt
The girl with the toddler named Kurdt was selling off her entire Nirvana collection. Regrets? Nah!
2. Lars
Absolutely hilarious to see a long-haired dad with a Metallica shirt on yelling at his rat-tailed kid: “Lars! Stop that!”
3. Sebastian
My old customer Gord named his son after the Canadian god of rock.
4. Rhiannon
A mom was in looking for Fleetwood Mac. “Tell the man your name!” she said to the little girl with her. With a beaming smile she said, “RHIANNON! Not Rihanna! RHIANNON!”
Perhaps the two most legendary customers in the entire history of the record store were Glen and Gord. With their long coifed locks and rocker hair, the Brothers wore their musical tastes on their sleeves. Rock! All rock, nothing but! It was hard to miss them, as the Brothers are both over six feet tall. Add the hair in and I lose track.
You could never miss them at a concert. I remember seeing Alice Cooper in 2006. I was in the second row. Before the show I turned around and saw the Brothers halfway across the theater. Besides their height and hair, one reason you’d never miss the Brothers at a concert is that they attended pretty much every one. If there was a decent rock band in town, the Brothers were there. You could count on it.
I believe it was T-Rev who first encountered Gord, in his store. Gord had spent some time in Europe, and was selling off some really rare rock CDs he got there. One such CD is still in my personal collection – the single for “Stand” by Poison, featuring a rare bonus track called “Whip Comes Down”. This being Poison with Richie Kotzen rather than the original band, this song is valuable to collectors. By the sounds of it, aspects of the song were used in “Stay Alive”, which did make it onto the album Native Tongue.
Seeing that the Brothers and I had similar taste in music, sometimes we clashed. For example, one of my customers sold me three W.A.S.P. remasters in beautiful digipacks, which I still have. Gord saw them on my “hold” pile and begged me for them; I refused to budge. He still remembers that to this day:
“Of course Mike…You were THE guy I went to go see when you worked at the [record store]. You knew your music and we would always have these lengthy discussions. It was cool…except when you cut me off because I forgot to pick up my orders I had on hold or had ordered in!”
Ahh yes. Cutting him off. I remember that. It wasn’t my call, personally, but I did have to enforce it. Gord had ordered in a bunch of discs, but hadn’t picked them in weeks. We allowed two weeks for pickups. One important thing to know is, I didn’t make any money off these special orders. When we ordered in a used CD for a customer from another location, that location was credited for the sale. For my sales margins, I had to send the discs back if they weren’t picked up. According to Gord:
“That was not nice, you jerk! But you finally reinstated the privilege. Its all good, I forgave you.”
I am glad I have his forgiveness! I’d hate to have a guy of Gord’s size hold a grudge!
What is with those rapper kids who have one pant leg rolled up?
The first time I ever saw this fashion statement, I was working the record store. I saw this kid with his left leg rolled up, he wasn’t riding a bike. He was in just on foot with his buddies. Goofy shoes, one pant leg rolled up, ass all but hanging out the back. Headphones on.
I was working with Matty K, who was a hip-hop fan.
“Look at this guy!” I said.
“Shh,” Matty shushed me. “That means he’s ganged up.”
“What?” I whispered? “In Kitchener? That’s stupid. What is he, the River Road Posse? Westside K-Town?”
Over the years I have heard different explanations. One leg up means you’re with one gang, the other leg means another gang. I’ve also heard it means you have drugs for sale. I’ve never happened across a definitive answer. All I know is that however stupid you may look, all you have to do is roll up one pant leg to max out at uber-stupid.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 291:
The Old Geezer Who Called the Cops For a Refund
Let’s say you went into a store, and bought a movie. Then a few days later, you decided you didn’t like the movie and wanted to return it. What kind of questions would cross your mind?
Here are some thoughts I would have.
Do I still have the receipt?
Does it state the store’s return policy?
Does my purchase qualify for a return?
Those are all great, relevant questions. Unfortunately for one old geezer, he didn’t proceed past question 1.
I was working one night, and I wasn’t even working in my own store. I was running our website at that point, and I was holed up in the back room of another store working away. Filling orders, responding to emails, all that stuff. I had worked a long long day, a “split shift”. My morning was spent in my own store working the opening shift. Then I was off from 2-5, and finished the day working on the website. So I was back there, doing my own thing, not having to spend time interacting with customers except by email.
Then, one of the in-store staff came into the back room, looking for help.
“Mike, we’re having a problem with a customer. He wants to return a movie, and he wants a refund. Can you come out here?”
I was the most senior person on premises, so I stepped out to help. Our return policy was stated clearly on store signage, and on the receipt: “EXCHANGE ONLY WITHIN 7 DAYS.” We informally stretched that to 14 days to avoid hassles, but refunds were not usually permitted.
I saw the old guy, and asked if I could help.
“Yeah, all I want is my money back. I don’t want this movie.”
I used my “understanding” voice. “I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to do an exchange? You can pick out anything in the store and we can put this towards it as credit?”
“I don’t want to pick anything else. You don’t have anything I want. I want my money back.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said, “We don’t offer refunds on used movies. The policy is on the sign there, and on the receipt. But you don’t have to exchange it for a movie, you can use it towards anything in store. Or I could order something in from another store. Or I can issue you a credit note, and you can take that with you and use it any time you like?”
“I don’t want a credit. I want my damn money back!”
I wasn’t going to budge just because he was insistent; I had been given shit for budging on the refund policy before by my boss. I preferred getting yelled at by customers than by him.
“I’m sorry but I can’t do that. I can however offer you any of the other options I mentioned.”
“Where’s the boss? I want to talk to him,” the old man spat out.
“He’s not here,” I answered. “He made those policies so we wouldn’t have to constantly call him asking about refunds.”
“Well then I’m calling the police. I want my money back and I’m getting it back!”
I stood there for a moment, shocked that anybody would think this was a police matter. “You can do that if you like,” I answered simply.
“Can I use your phone?”
Seriously? OK then. I handed him the phone. He fumbled with it for a few moments.
“Can you call the police for me?” he said after a moment.
This time I laughed. “No, it’s not me who even wants to call the police! You can call them, I don’t want anything to do with that.”
Left without options, the old man dialed and called the police himself. Shockingly he said to them, “Can you send a couple officers here? I don’t want this to get violent.”
Violent?! Oh my God! A couple officers? What a great use of our police resources!
The fuzz showed up about half an hour later. One officer. It was a pretty quick, cut-and-dried visit. He asked the old guy what the issue was; the old guy complained again that he wanted his money back and we wouldn’t give it to him. Then he asked me for my side of the story. I explained that we do not offer refunds, that the policy was clearly stated everywhere, and the old man had many options for returning the movie that did not involve a refund.
The officer spelled this out to the old man. In a few minutes, he had already picked a replacement movie and agreed to the exchange. I stood there thinking, “He needed a police officer for this to happen?” We exchanged the movie, and I thanked him for his business. He then walked over to the cop and put his arm on his shoulder. “I’d like to talk to you outside, about this matter,” he said to the cop, and they went outside together.
I don’t know what additional issues he needed to discuss with the law, but I never saw the old man again.
Bottom line:
If you can’t get what you want at a store, please please please don’t get the police involved. It’s such a waste of resources.
You’re always going to get conflict in any work place, and a CD store is no different. Back in the early days we hired this kid named DJ Donnie D. He was a regular customer that was well liked, so the boss gave him a chance.
Donnie was a good kid, a bit of a neat-freak perhaps, but that’s not a bad kind of person to have around a store. As we expanded, we hired another new kid named Jason. Donnie and Jason did not really get along all that well. Donnie was often criticizing Jason’s musical selections and work habits. He thought Jason was lazy, often leaving work undone for someone else to finish. Donnie seemed to develop a bit of a personal grudge because he always made sure the store was left as he found it: Clean, things put away, not left out for others to tidy up.
What really chapped Donnie’s ass was that Jason didn’t like to vacuum. We had to vacuum before closing every night and Donnie was certain that Jason didn’t do it when he was closing. Jason said he did of course but Donnie had his doubts and took it upon himself to prove he was right.
Taking matters into his own hands, Donnie set an elaborate snare for Jason.
We stored our vacuum cleaner in a cabinet underneath the Classical section. Before Jason’s shift, Donnie tied a hair to the door of the cabinet. If Jason opened the door, it would break. If he did not, the hair would be intact the following morning, thus proving that Jason was averse to vacuuming.
I know you’re dying to know what happens next. I’ll drag this out a little longer.
Donnie really did take this kind of thing really seriously. I can’t say anything bad about Donnie, I think he always had good intentions. For example, his neatness obsession extended to painting the bathroom in our brand new store one night. He wasn’t told to paint it, he just decided to make it look nice. I came in one morning to find it neat & tidy, and painted from floor to ceiling! The bathroom also doubled as a storage room. He had organized all the supplies and tools, marking their new storage places. He had even drawn the outline of a hammer and labelled the spot “HAMMER”. Same with “SHOVEL”; it too had an outline of a shovel where it was to be hung. The boss flipped on him, but Donnie meant well. That’s just how he was.
So what about the vacuum cleaner?
The hair was intact, unbroken. Jason said that he vacuumed that night, but he obviously had not. Busted!
This is a previously unreleased story! It was first recorded in audio format only, as a special “exclusive” Record Store Tale forSausagefest 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.
“FUCK! Fucking piece of shit car! Fucking doors are frozen shut!”
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…”
In mid-1996, I was minding the store one sunny morning. It was a pleasant summer day. A quiet morning, I was at the counter inputting new stock. As I slaved over a hot keyboard, entering CD after CD into inventory, I saw an old lady in a slinky red dress enter the store. As was our custom, I said hello as she entered. She didn’t respond and I went back to entering CDs as she looked around the easy listening section of the store.
That is when I noticed something very unusual with the lady in red. (For the time.)
My boss noticed it too, as he emerged from his office in the back. She barely had any hair on her head. We both came to the realization at the same time: the lady in red was a man!
An old, skinny, bald man in a red dress!
It was not a pleasant sight, this skeletal frame accented by the loose silky red fabric. LGBTQ+ is A-OK by me but this was a sight from a horror movie. A living dead zombie in a dress. Shopping for CDs.
My boss and I exchanged glances. We looked back at the man, just to make sure our eyes were not deceiving us. No; that was most definitely an ancient man in that red dress, casually browsing the easy listening section. Perhaps he was looking for some old Chris de Burgh?
My boss said to me, “Mike, can you go over there and see if he needs help finding anything?”
We watched as the skeleton spent 10 or 20 minutes browsing, the only customer in the whole store. Then without a word, but with a flourish of his red dress, he left. I never saw him again.
I wonder if I would have made a customer if I had approached the walking cadaver in red for help? Too bad I didn’t have a copy of The Very Best of Chris de Burgh. I could have popped in his theme song and made a sale!
mikeladano.com 