Record Store Tales

Part 255: ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Here we are on the 24th.  Have you done all your shopping?  Bought all the wine and food?  Then settle in for the last update before Christmas.  I always take a break from posting at this time, so check back in a few days and I’ll have fresh content again for you soon.  Enjoy this Record Store Tale, and best wishes!

RECORD STORE TALES Part 255: ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

December 24th.  One of our busiest days of the year.  Not the busiest though – that would often fall on the last Saturday before Christmas, on the 23rd, or our annual Boxing Day sale on the 26th.  Nearly two months of buildup and hard work, and it’s all over in what feels like a blink!

The 24th could sometimes be a fun day to work.  Not all customers were your typical cranky shopper, although we certainly saw those too.  Many of our Christmas Eve customers were simply killing time.  Some were spending their Christmas money a little bit early.  Some didn’t care what day it was, particularly those who came in to sell CDs for cash.

Yes, many people did come in to sell even on Christmas Eve.  A few were looking for credit to buy gifts, some were just looking for money to buy a Christmas dime bag.  Either way it was always a busy day, and we were kept moving on our feet.  Many dollars exchanged hands on the 24th.

I recall Christmas music was in such demand that a few years I was left with 4 or 5 Christmas CDs left in stock.  Often these would be the ones that always sat, year after year, unwanted, unsold.  As a person who’s never liked Christmas music, I could never understand the NEED to have it, just to listen to it once a year.  To me, that’s what the radio was for.  But I wasn’t there to try to analyze the wants and desires of the people.  My job was to sell them whatever crap we had left.

The 24th was a messy day.  Usually you could count on snow getting tracked in on the carpets (which were only cleaned a few weeks prior – why??).  Also, most customers could not seem to put discs back where they found them.  This was a combination of poor shelf design, customers who didn’t give a shit, parents that don’t watch their children as they tear the store apart, and people who didn’t know the alphabet.  Discs would be everywhere by the end of it all, scattered hither and yon, with no rhyme or reason as to why they were left there.

I always wore a suit and tie on Christmas Eve.  This was a tradition begun by the boss and owner in the early 1990’s, but I was the only one who carried on this tradition.  The first time we did the suits T-Rev said, “I like it, it makes me feel important!”  People do treat you a little differently when you’re wearing a tie.

After all the rushes of customers died down, we’d start hanging the signs in preparation for the big Boxing Day sale on the 26th.  Buy 3 Get 1 Free!  Or something like that.  Not good with any other special offers though, so people would have something to bitch about.  “Why can’t you stamp my card too?”  Etc. etc.

One year (’96 or ’97) after close at 6 pm, the boss told me to stay late and help him hang these signs.  They were big banners for our Boxing Day sale.  He climbed a ladder to clip these huge hanging signs from the ceiling.  I was there on the floor in my tie trying to hold the sign aloft as he worked.  Then he dropped a clip to the ground and we couldn’t see where it landed.  And apparently we didn’t have any spares.

On hands and knees I searched and searched.  We even got out a flashlight to try to find the damned thing.  No luck!  Meanwhile the clock ticked and ticked.  6:30.  6:45.  7:00.  The parking lot outside was quickly resembling a frozen ghost town, as people raced home to begin their own festivities.

Just as I found the damn clip on the ground, the phone rang.  Normally I wouldn’t answer the phone this late after close on Christmas Eve, but my boss answered, and it was my mom.

“When are you sending my son home to enjoy his Christmas Eve dinner with his family?” she chided.

“Oh I’m sorry Mrs. Ladano!” my boss responded.  “We’re almost done.  You’ll have him soon.”

I think if my mom hadn’t called, we would have been there all night hanging those stupid signs!

At home there was plenty of hot food to enjoy, as I let my body relax after a long day of serious hard work.  Thankfully I did not have to work Boxing Day, probably the longest most tiring day of the whole year.  I therefore had two whole days to relax, watch movies, and spend time with the family.

On that note, I wish all of you a Merry  Christmas.  Whether you celebrate the holiday or not, be safe and warm this season.  And most important I hope you all make it home on time and don’t have to stay late hanging signs!

SANTA

Part 254: You Don’t Need To See My Identification

RECORD STORE TALES Part 254:  You Don’t Need To See My Identification

In Ontario, to sell any used goods to a pawn shop or used CD store like ours, you had to present valid, government issued photo ID. That was the law, even though many of my customers thought I made that up just to be a prick. No; that was indeed the law. I couldn’t buy a used stick of gum from you without a driver’s license, passport, or other form of official photo ID.

One day, I was buying some discs from a man, and we just needed his ID to finalize the deal. Upon asking to see it, this exchange occurred:

Me: I just need a piece of photo ID from you.

Him: I have a membership.

Me: …I’m sorry?

Him: I have a membership here.

Me: I’m not sure what you mean. We don’t have “memberships”.

Him: Whatever it’s called. I’m in your system.

Me: That may be but I still need your ID to prove you are who you say you are.

Him: But I’m a member.

Me: I really don’t know what you mean. I’ve been working here for years and even I’m not a “member”!

Another time, I asked a fellow for identification, and it went down something like this:

IDMe:  I’ll just need a piece of ID and your signature.

Him:  ID?  What for?  They’re not stolen.

Me:  That’s the law in Ontario.  I can’t buy anything used off anybody unless they show me ID.

Him:  Like a license?  Will my driver’s license do?

Me:  Yup, sure will.

Him:  Alright, I’ll drive home and get it, I’ll be back in 10.

So he left, and I’m standing there thinking, “What an idiot. What if a cop pulled him over?” Why wouldn’t you just put your wallet in your pants so you have it with you?

Then there were the paranoid ones.  They were rare but they were out there, occasionally surfacing, to raise funds by selling off CDs or DVDs.

Me:  And I just need a piece of ID.

Him:  Don’t got any.

Me:  None?  Nothing at all?  Driver’s License, Health Card?

Him:  Nope.  I don’t want the government knowing my affairs.

Nor did he want them to know he was selling off his Tammy Wynette albums, I suppose.

Bottom line:  I was surprised how many people in this fine city walk  (and sometimes drive) around without any sort of identification on them.  Just an observation, is all, from the front lines of the record store.

Part 253: Angry Man Go Boom!

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RECORD STORE TALES Part 253:  Angry Man Go Boom!

September 6, 2005.

It was 11 am. Sales were slow so far on this first post-summer morning. I was feeling fantastic after a perfect night’s sleep. I only had one customer in the store. He was a somewhat odd fellow, late 30’s, liked to look stuff up in the computer, write it down, and then not buy it. Different strokes for different folks, I say. All the bosses were in the back office, as is typical. I was listening to Jethro Tull, Elvis Costello, and Max Webster. Nothing later than 1981, of course.

In walks our main character to this story. He’s a tall fellow, very tall, but even now I can’t quite put his face into focus. I can’t even clearly recall if he had a beard or not. I do remember his height, because he towered over me when I stood next to him. In his hands was a copy of Shaggy’s Hot Shot-Remixed album.

To get the proper effect, please read all of his dialogue in a Jamaican accent, a forceful Jamaican accent.  He was holding the Shaggy CD in his hands, and I saw our price tag on it.

“Yo, I bought this one but…it’s not the right one. Can I get somethin’ else?”

“Sure, just take a look around if you want. Do you have the receipt?”

His eyes got wide, he smiled a huge toothy “just ate the cat” smile, and then said, “Ahh man, I think I lost it somewhere.”

The price tag looked quite worn, it could have been purchased some time ago. We had our exchange policy: 7 days (+ an unspoken 7 more days just to avoid hassles). We also needed a receipt for all exchanges except in special cases.  All of this was clearly stated on the store signage as well as the lost receipt.

“Ahh, see, we need to have the receipt for all exchanges. Sorry man…”

“Ahh come on man! You remember me buying this thing don’t you?”

“Actually, no, I don’t, not really, without a receipt…”

“Ahh come on man I just want to switch it!”

Prior to this I was on the sales floor. I walked behind the counter, and said, “Without a receipt, I can’t do that.  The best I could do would be to buy it back from you.” I motioned for him to hand me the CD.

“Huh?” He handed me the CD. I opened the jewel case and examined the condition of the disc.

“I could buy it back from you used.”

Shaggy was quite scratched indeed. I chose not to say anything about it, since he’d claim he bought it like that. They always say that whether they did or didn’t, so my saying anything about it wouldn’t help. However, to buy it back in that condition normally we would give less, to cover the cost of having the CD buffed back to a new finish. I chose not to do that either, since I was being a hard ass on the rules I’d cut him a break on the condition.

“I can give you four dollars for this.”

“What?” Eyes go wide again. “I just want to switch it man, I’m the customer!”

“I know, but as I said, I can’t do that for you. What I can do is give you four dollars for that CD, but that’s the best I can do.”

“You know what, I’m the customer, and [accent gets too thick for me to continue]…”

Then, he took the CD in his hands, jewel case and all, and crushed it.  Pieces went flying everywhere. He stomped to the door, where he stood in the doorway and yelled “I am the customer!”

Out he went.  There was this moment of awkward silence. Then, the man at the lookup computer (who I’d forgotten all about) chimed in.

“So, let me get this straight. You were going to give him $4 for that CD.  Then he crushed it. Now he can’t get anything for it. How did that guy think that was a good idea?”

Took the words out of my mouth.

Part 252: That Smell

RECORD STORE TALES Part 252:  That Smell

Working in a retail environment with the public exposes one to a variety of interesting smells.  90% of customers didn’t have a particular smell to them.  They were pretty inoffensive.  However, about 10% of customers did have distinct odors.  Here are the Top Five things that customers in my store smelled like:

4% – Weed

If I had to break it down, I would say the majority of customers that smelled like marijuana were shopping in the rap section.  The red bleary eyes were also a giveaway, but some of these kids just reeked of pot!  Didn’t matter if it was 10am and they were selling their CDs to buy another dime bag, or if it was 7pm and they were looking for fast food money.  They were omnipresent.

3% – Booze

I’m only hoping that the customers who had booze stench on their breath were not driving.  (At the end, I worked on the “wrong side of town,” many of my customers could not drive anyway.)  Never mind the fact that some people would be coming in piss drunk at noon on a Wednesday.

1% – B.O.

The dreaded body odor stink afflicted men and women alike.  The only thing they had in common: customers with B.O. were always oblivious to it themselves, even though my eyes were watering.  Many times these guys were construction workers on break, but not always!

1% – Really strong perfume or cologne

I had a few customers who were used car salesmen.  Apart from impeccably trimmed moustaches, they often wore too much Drakkar Noir.  There were also plenty of women that smelled so strong you couldn’t breathe.

1% – Bad breath

Halitosis isn’t fun.  Some of the people who knocked me out with their breath looked like their teeth weren’t doing so well either, particularly at the stores located on the wrong side of the tracks!

If you enjoyed this, perhaps you’ll enjoy Record Store Tales Part 57:  Top Five Things A Record Store Smells Like.

THAT SMELL

Part 251: Punched In the Teeth By Love

RECORD STORE TALES Part 251: Punched In the Teeth By Love

Back in December of 1991, an old M.E.A.T Magazine article on Motley Crue revealed a cool little nugget of an exclusive. Motley were promoting their first “greatest hits” CD, Decade of Decadence.  Like any good official compilation album should, it contained three brand new songs.  They were heavier, alluding to an evolution in direction for Motley Crue.  However there was a fourth new song that didn’t make the cut:

PUNCHED

It always disappointed me that since Vince Neil left the Crue in early ’92, that song title never appeared on their next album.  Too bad, I thought.  Something about the title jumped out at me; I was looking forward to hearing the song, but it never came out.  Bummer.  Especially since I did indeed get “punched in the teeth by love” (figuratively) and been knocked out a couple times.  But you could never keep me down for the count, I always bounced back.

Any time I broke up with some girl back then, I’d always tell the guys at the record store the same thing.  “Man, I need to write a song called ‘Punch In the Teeth By Love’!”  I figured, since Motley Crue hadn’t used it, the title was up for grabs!  I threw some words and a rudimentary riff/melody together as a joke but it never went beyond that.  It always generated a few laughs though, and laughing at work is healthy, especially when you’ve been punched in the teeth by love.

Of course later on (1997) Vince Neil did rejoin Motley Crue.  Later still, after Tommy Lee quit the group acrimoniously, they released possibly their worst ever album New Tattoo (2000).  Interestingly, that album’s track #7 was called “Punched In the Teeth By Love”!

I don’t presume this to be the exact song that would have come out in 1991, since Randy Castillo (Tommy Lee’s replacement) is credited as a writer.  Maybe the lyrics are recycled, maybe just the title, whatever:  it doesn’t matter.  Finally “Punched In the Teeth By Love” surfaced and as hoped it was one of the heaviest songs.  The riff was pretty generic, but Mick Mars’ guitar work is impressive.  I’ve always felt Mick has grown as a guitar player tremendously, especially since Dr. Feelgood.  It’s certainly not the greatest song, but it rocks hard enough and has a cool gang vocal chorus, so I’ll give it a B or a B+.

It was considered to be worthy of the concert setlist in 2000 (Samantha Maloney on drums now, filling in for the terminally ill Randy Castillo).  It was played only on that tour though, and it was not included on any Crue compilation since then, including the double Red, White & Crue.  So I’d like to bring your attention back to this track, a pretty good if not great dirty little Motley Crue song:  “Punched In the Teeth By Love”!

Part 0: A Few Words for Days Gone By…

I decided to do something special for Part 250…by not doing Part 250 at all.

This isn’t one of those bullshit prequels, like when George Lucas says, “Oh, Episode I, I had that written for decades,” when it was pretty obvious he was making it up as he went along!  Nope, this isn’t like that.  I started writing the Record Store Tales over 10 years ago, and what you see below is the original first chapter.  It existed solely for the purpose of background and context, but I excised it in favour of starting things faster with the second chapter, “Run To The Hills”.  Since that became Part 1, it makes sense that this earlier introduction should be Part 0.  With hindight, I kind of wished I’d kept it in, so here it is!  And don’t forget to check out my new complete Table of Contents, should you wish to read  more!

KATHRYN GEOFF MIKEYeah…don’t ask. That’s me on the right.

A Few Words for Days Gone By…

What is childhood made of? In my mind, when you’re a kid, life consists of two things:

1. School
2. Summer Holidays

That was the cycle.  To break it down to the core, to an 11 year old life was 10 months of school followed by two months of glorious, warm sunny freedom.  Sure, you’d get to go home at the end of the day, but you were never truly free until the end of June. No more pencils, no more books, all that stuff.  It was way better than Christmas holidays.  The Canadian winters offered such fun treats as shoveling, besides snow pants, parka, boots (laced up too tight), and mittens which prevented you from using your fingers.

Our summers were boisterous. My sister Kathryn and I were like peas in a pod. We would play some kind of game every day, usually under my leadership. I would declare that today, we were going to play Star Wars. Other possible declarations included building fleets of Lego ships and cars, and having a giant war. Or inventing a new ball game.  Once GI Joe came along, we’d dig trenches in the yard, as well as forts and garages of twigs and leaves, and have an entire day (or week) dedicated to Cobra Commander’s new secret weapon. Aside from an occasional rebellion from my sister, our summers were mostly uninterrupted merriment.

STAR WARS

My sister and I both clearly remember one such rebellion, where she wanted to do things her way.  It involved our Star Wars figures.  We were already mid-battle.  I was setting up a perfect counter-offensive. The Millenium Falcon would sneak attack Vader’s base, take out his Tie Fighter early in the melee, while Luke would take out Boba Fett. Leia and Lando had to distract Jabba The Hutt, so that he couldn’t stop Luke when he eventually confronted the Emperor. Game over! The plan was perfect. Now I just needed my sister to coordinate the battle with me, under my command of course.

Much to my disappointment, she had moved around some of the figures and now had them seated.  Luke and Vader were next to each other. “Why are Luke and Vader sitting there? Luke is about to attack and Vader should be getting into his ship.”

My sister continued playing with the figures, and without looking up, replied, “Luke and Vader want to be friends now. They’re having tea.”

It didn’t matter that half the figures were hers, if she didn’t know how to play Star Wars right. So I’d yell a bit, act like a big brother usually does, and eventually she’d go along with the plan, or cry and leave.  The evil Empire would be defeated once and for all, thanks to my brilliant leadership and strategy.  We were definitely pals, growing up.

For years, this was the way of the summer holidays. We’d be doing something awesome at home, or at the cottage, but it would always be something cool. It didn’t matter where we were: games continued wherever we went.  We’d make a game out of anything.   You give us a pile of junk and we’ll make a game out of it.

STYX FRONTAll things do come to an end. The Star Wars trilogy ended in 1983 and something needed to fill the vacuum. While GI Joe and later Transformers would temporarily take its place, I was getting older.  My attention was drifting.  I was looking for something cool, new, and exciting.  Video games didn’t hold my attention and neither did sports.

Starting in 1983, several things happened in a short time frame.  Styx released a single called “Mr. Roboto” that some of my friends at school were obsessed with.   Then I heard a song called “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC, and it was pretty cool too.  Then, a newer band called Quiet Riot came out with an album called Metal Health that would go on to sell three million copies.  This was my first rock cassette purchase when I was in the 6th grade.  Something connected…

AC/DC.  Van Halen.  Ozzy Osbourne.  Black Sabbath.  Def Leppard.  Motley Crue.  Iron Maiden.  Who were these people? I had a lot to find out.

Continued in Record Store Tales Part 1:  Run to the Hills

Part 249: The Shirts

RECORD STORE TALES Part 249:  The Shirts

“Mikey,” said Trevor one afternoon, “I’m talking to you as a friend.  I know you don’t want to stay single forever.  I’m only try to help you out, but…that style you’re rocking just isn’t working man.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.  I thought I was actually dressed pretty cool.

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shorts n’ docs

“Well,” Trevor continued, “You’re wearing Doc Marten boots with shorts and a Deep Purple T-shirt.  It’s like you’re wearing three looks at once.  What you need to do is focus on one look and go with it.”

I was shell-shocked.  My Doc Marten boots were the bomb!  Deep Purple rules!

“But the boots and shorts are kind of grunge, right?  And that’s cool.”  My counterargument was sound.

“Yeah but the Deep Purple shirt isn’t grunge.  You see?  Trust me Mikey.  I’m just trying to look out for you.  I’ll take you shopping, and after that, you re going to get tons of action!”

Tons of action!  Right on.  I’m in, T-Rev, say no more man!

True to his word, that Saturday, T-Rev picked me up and took me to the mall.  And shop we did.  Apparently Hawaiian was in.  I picked up a Hawiian shirt and this cool burgundy velvety shirt.  I also picked up a couple T-shirts to wear underneath, and a beaded necklace which also was apparently in at the time.  That night, Trevor’s lovely then-girlfriend now-wife Michelle threw him a birthday party and I was able to give the burgundy shirt a test-run in a social environment.  While I did not see any “action”, the feedback was positive.  I have to say that I rocked the look really well and received numerous compliments.

Unfortunately, this kicked off a shirt addiction.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I had a flirtation with shirt addiction that lasted a couple years.  Next I bought an expensive black shirt with cool ridges at a place called Caesar’s Closet in Cambridge.  Then another burgundy shirt, even more velvety.  Then a black one with sparkles in it.  (That was my favourite, it later got recycled into my Paul Stanley Halloween costume.)  Two with flames.  One with guitars.  One with dice.  One that was shiny like a foil-wrapped baked potato, and many many more.  My bosses may have thought I’d lost my mind, as I showed up at the record store in more and more outlandish shirts.  I ended up with at least two dozen in my collection.

When I wore the silver baked potato shirt to work one day, one of my bosses was nearly blinded by it.  “Mike!  That’s a shirt for clubbing!”  Well, probably, but working in a record store gave me a certain amount of leeway that other jobs didn’t have.  I guess I wanted to have fun while I was young!

My “shirts phase” lasted a couple years before it finally faded away.  The obsession was excessive though.  One cottage weekend I packed 7 shirts for a 2 day stay.  By the end of it, I had even written a movie outline for a horror comedy film titled “The Shirt”.  The premise:

A cursed Hawaiian shirt finds its way into a clueless vacationer’s luggage.  The shirt kills those who wear it by strangulation; it can also possess the minds of those it has an affinity for.  Putting on the shirt could get you killed, or possessed — or both!  The evil shirt’s only weakness is bleach.

I’m hoping to get James Franco interested in playing the main character, the guy who makes it to the end of the movie.

Surprisingly few photos remain of my expansive shirt collection.  Perhaps that is a good thing.

More SHIRTS at mikeladano.com:
Record Store Tales Part 86: Captain Gold Shirt

Part 248: Hagar Bashing

SAMMY HAGAR

RECORD STORE TALES Part 248:  Hagar Bashing

There’s been some Van Hagar bashing recently here at mikeladano.com.  First there was this, and then this…some strong language here and there as well.  Seems that “Hagar Bashing” has been a hobby for me for a long time.  Witness this nearly decade old record store journal entry that I found.

Date: 2004/08/26 10:03

Someone should pass a law preventing Sammy Hagar from singing any old classic DLR tunes. “I got my ass against the record machine”???  Fuck you Sammy, go drink your tequila.

I kind of like that, I wish I’d worked that into my Best of Both Worlds review.  “Fuck you Sammy, go drink your tequila!”  I’m sure that would be considered a very professional review!  Speaking of which, apparently I wasn’t too impressed with a review that I read in Bass Guitar magazine, judging by the journal entry below.

Date: 2004/08/25 00:25

I hate reading an article in a magazine, and realizing I could have done a better job than the guy who gets paid all that cash for being in a big glossy.  I am reading a bass magazine, and there’s an article on Van Halen.  They’re talking about how consistent Michael Anthony’s sound and style has been, and continues to be on the three new songs.

Well, if the writer had bothered doing any checking, he would have seen that Anthony doesn’t play bass on the three new songs.  He in fact has nothing to do with the new album whatsoever.  I would have known that, not made a mistake in the article, and in addition asked Anthony about it in the interview!  I could have done a better job than this pro…and I wouldn’t even ask for a dime!

And I still haven’t made a dime!  Goal achieved.

Legend has it that Sammy Hagar liked this song even though Thelonious Monster meant it to be insulting.

More VAN HALEN at mikeladano.com:

A Different Kind of Truth (2012) – The Best of Both Worlds (2005 2 CD set) – Record Store Tales Part 186: The Van Halen Tin – Van Halen III (limited edition tin) – “Can’t Stop Loving You” (1995 single tin) – “Right Now” (1992 cassette single) – “Best of Both Worlds” picture sleeve 7″ single

Part 247: Her Royal Majesty

RECORD STORE TALES Part 247:  Her Royal Majesty

I never forgot this one, but I’ll let my journal tell the story from the perspective of “then”…

Date: 2004/08/12 21:36

Today sucked ass.

First of all, they installed this router at work, so we can’t use anything but the 10 sites they prescribe.  Everything else is off limits.  So, no more Google at work.  Fuckers.

OH!  By the way, I’m in a real bad mood.

This girl comes in.  Friend of Matt’s.  She’s a totally unpleasant human being.  She wanted to exchange a Deftones import she bought a month ago.  [The CD was Deftones Live (1998) which was pretty rare.]  Our exchange policy is seven days, it says so on the receipt.  We’ll stretch it to 14 without a hassle, but not over a month, even if you’re the friggin’ Pope.

She gave me a real hard time about this.  I’m thinking, “what, you live in Asia?  You can’t get here, or even call here, within seven days?  You bought a CD you didn’t like, so suck it up.  You even previewed it before you bought it (don’t think I forgot that tried it out, at length, in the store beforehand), and you still bought it.  THEN you decided you didn’t like it.  Fuck you.”  That’s what I’m thinking.  What I’m saying is something completely different, about how I can’t really accept a return after this length of time under these circumstances.

She said, “Do you treat everyone this way?”

Yes, I treat everyone the same:  by the fucking rules.  I don’t give anyone special treatment, especially when they try to push me around, like you are doing.

You know, I’m getting so pissed, I can’t even finish.

I can finish now, though.  I remember the very next thing she said was, “When is Matt working?”  In other words, I’ll return this CD when my friend is working, not you.  I explained to her that Matt wouldn’t exchange the CD, because I was Matt’s boss.  She was with her mom, and even her mom told her to drop it and accept the situation.

I also remember that she never came in again, which in my view was a good thing.  She rarely bought anything that she didn’t return, and she made us run around like chickens with our heads cut off, serving her Royal Majesty.  Yeah, I didn’t miss her at all.  In fact I even pre-emptively went to my bosses and said, “If you get a phone call complaining about me, this is what happened.”  I explained what I did and why I did it and for once, they actually took my side.

Her Royal Majesty was just reason #10,137 for me to move on from retail.

Part 246: Dancing Steve


RANGERS

RECORD STORE TALES Part 246:  Dancing Steve

One of our best customers at the original store was Dancing Steve.  I’ll get to why he’s named Dancing Steve in a minute, but I first met Steve when I started at the store.  Steve would come in or call looking for various cassettes (never CDs), and put them on hold until he had $150 or $200 worth, and buy them all in one shot.  That’s just how Steve rolled.  Normally we would never stockpile so much inventory for a customer for so long, but Steve spent so much money and was so pleasant that it was a special arrangement just for him.

Steve would call looking for songs.  I can remember putting a Gina Vannelli tape on hold for Steve, and I also remember him looking for Rod Stewart’s then-recent song “This”.  I found that song on Rod’s latest, the excellent A Spanner in the Works.  It was always so nice dealing with him, he was so friendly, and even if we didn’t see him for two months at a time, he was uber-reliable.

I knew Steve was a hockey fan as he would often wear a Kitchener Rangers hat or jacket.  What I did not know was that Steve was legendary among Rangers fans!  Steve often wrote (and I think he occasionally still does) long letters to the editor of the local newspaper, cheering on our Rangers and offering his strategic advice.

T-Rev and I found ourselves at a Rangers game one weekend.  I don’t remember the circumstances.  We may have got the tickets for free, but neither of us were particularly fans of the game back then.   The Rangers scored, the crowd cheered!  Then, T-Rev noticed some commotion in the seats of one corner of the auditorium.  To our left and down was a man in a Rangers jacket and hat, dancing.  It wasn’t a sophisticated dance, it was a bit of an awkward shuffle, in that big warm Rangers jacket.  The crowd loved it, cheering him on!   It was none other than Steve, our Steve.  I found out his actual nickname in town was Dancing Steve, because he had seasons tickets and rarely missed a game.  Steve would get up and dance any time something good happened: a goal, a power play, whatever!

To this day, I feel cool that a local legend like Dancing Steve was one of our earliest, most loyal customers.  In fact we didn’t lose Steve until 1997, when we discontinued carrying cassettes.  Steve didn’t make the transition over to CD.  He was crushed when T-Rev had to tell him we weren’t going to be selling tapes anymore.

I have been to a couple Rangers game since, but not seen Steve.  I know he still goes though, as I’ve heard tell that Dancing Steve dances on at the Aud.  I would like to dedicate this chapter to Steve, an example of a jolly good fellow if there ever was one!

TOMORROW:  Something exciting.