I hated doing bank runs. Bank runs were required to make sure we had plenty of change in the register. The denominations we tended to run out of most frequently were $1’s, $2’s, and $5’s. Because we were buying used CDs (often offering between $1 and $6 per disc) it’s understandable how we could go through a tray full of $5’s in short order.
We’d run out all the time and I was sick and tired of getting in shit for running out of $5 bills. I started a routine: once a week, we did a massive bank run that would always last us through the weekend and into the Monday. Then, people complained that we had a lot of change to count in our register – but I never ran out anymore.
I’d call the bank up, and place my change order. One time over 10 years ago, I brought one of my employees with me to do the change run. The reasons for this were twofold. One, I was carrying a lot of money and I liked having another person with me as backup. Second, it was a good way of showing him how to do the change run for the future.
There’s usually a special “business line” at the bank that lets you cut the crowds. We went into that line (overhearing a few people sneer, “how come they get to go before me when I’ve been waiting 20 minutes?”). We got our change fairly quickly, and headed back out.
We got into my car and and began to make our way back to the store. There were two traffic lanes heading out: One a left-turn only lane, and one a right-turn or straight lane. We were going straight, so I stopped at the red light.
We sat at the red light, shooting the shit, talking about music, when we both noticed a persistent honking behind us. I looked over my shoulder and I saw a lady in a red car behind us yelling, and gesturing wildly.
“Is she honking at us?” I asked Chris, a little confused.
“I think so!” he answered. “I think she wants to turn right.”
I watched her a bit in my mirror. I think this only made her more angry, because her movements became even more animated. I couldn’t make out what she was yelling, but she sure was letting it out.
“This is kind of weird,” I said. “Nothing I can do about it though…I’m still going straight!” I don’t think she knew we were both in a straight/right turn lane. Maybe she had a disorder that rendered her incapable of reading street signs.
“The light’s green…just gun it, I’ll flip her the bird,” Chris said.
She had beaten Chris to the punch though, already waving her left hand in the air, finger up high, yelling and screaming at us as she finally made her right turn. I was just glad she didn’t follow us to the store, which was right across the street! People can be really weird about stuff like that these days. And that’s the story of the weirdest bank run we ever did.
In a previous chapter, I mentioned that in 1994, I had created our store’s very first online ads. They were in colour, made in full glorious ANSI, and eye-catching. We even had a flashing logo on screen! I did this for free, because I was so passionate about the store. And it was fun! (Tip: One thing I had to learn was that if you do something for free once, it becomes expected later.)
The reactions were mostly positive. One guy, a 14 year old kid who went by the online handle “Mr. Self Destruct” (I think his real name was Justin), posted a message that was a bit of a wake up call.
“The kind of things I look for,” he said, “like imported Nine Inch Nails and Pop Will Eat Itself singles, you can’t get at a mall store like the one that Mike works at. You can only get those downtown, at the good stores.”
That burned! So I decided to do something about it.
The boss had always told T-Rev and I to order stock that we thought the store needed. We both took this to heart. T-Rev for example made sure we stocked things like the new Guns N’ Roses single (“Sympathy for the Devil”) and several other up and coming titles. Later on, Trevor made sure we stocked all the Oasis singles. I took care of the Nine Inch Nails side.
I ordered in “Sin”, Pretty Hate Machine, “Head Like A Hole”, Fixed, and Broken. Fixed had just been deleted, we missed that one. I ended up buying copies of “Sin” and Pretty Hate Machine for myself (we ordered 3 copies of each). Unfortunately, it wasn’t like having a few of these titles in stock changed the fortunes of our store. They sold all but immediately, but there was no sudden and dramatic jump in numbers. Yet, by summer 1995 we had a much cooler selection. I like to think we made a difference, albeit a small one, to music lovers. We sure did try anyway. It was more about just loving the job and store, and wanting to give 200%.
By that summer, we were even carrying live bootlegs. The boss picked them up in Toronto, and he’d walk in with a box full of 20 or 30. I remember T-Rev and I drooling all over them and the boss warning us that there would be no discount on these puppies! (I didn’t need a discount to want them!)
This period circa 1995-1996, was probably my personal peak at the record store. It was my peak time for happiness, for motivation, input, pride, and satisfaction. It was a time of mutual respect, fellowship, and hard work. I loved every day of it.
Our inventory now had some stuff that you couldn’t get at the cool downtown stores. I still have some of the bootlegs that I bought: bands like Guns N’ Roses (Covering ‘Em) and Nine Inch Nails (Woodstock 94). There were lots more titles (such as the Pearl Jam edition of Covering ‘Em), and our boss would try to get multiple copies of the good ones, like Nine Inch Nails. We even started getting in Japanese imports! I remember when we carried Hormoaning, by Nirvana, it was like $60 with taxes. The one guy who bought it had to trade in most of the rest of his collection to buy it. My buddy Aaron got the other copy.
I spread the word online, and a few of those people became customers. Guess who was among them? Mr. Self Destruct!
Sometimes, shopping in a music store can be a frustrating experience especially for those who don’t know a lot about music. They might not have a clue what section to find (for example) Linkin Park in. Are they rock? Metal? Alternative? Something else? Somebody who only knows a couple songs might spend a long time walking around aimlessly in a store trying to find Linkin Park.
Sometimes just the simple act of trying to find where Linkin Park is filed alphabetically can be frustrating to the uninitiated. Some people are confused. If Barry Manilow is filed under “M” instead of “B”, why is Linkin Park filed under “L” instead of “P”? This gets even more hard to understand when the band’s name sounds like a person’s name. Max Webster. Pink Floyd. The difficulty is tripled when you’re shopping in a store that has a loose grasp on the alphabet in the first place. Ever shopped at one of the local HMV stores?
Sometimes in order to find something, you might have to get the store employee’s attention. If he or she is busy with customers, please don’t yell across the store. “I can’t find anything in this damn store!” I’ve heard that too many times. Come up to the counter, wait until I’m done giving my full attention to my current customer, and ask. I know some people think they are more important than other customers, but that’s life. Sometimes you have to be patient. And please don’t yell, “Hey, buddy! Little help?”
Here’s a true story: One of my staff members, Matt, was once hailed by a 300 pound Jamaican man with, “YO! WHITE BOY!”
Be clear about what you want to know. For example, a lost customer once had this question for me:
Him: “Who designed your shelves?”
Me, slightly puzzled: “The owner’s dad built them. Why?”
Him: “Well is the owner’s dad dyslexic? Nothing makes any sense! You’ve got B coming after C, everything’s backwards, upside down, I can’t find anything!”
Hey, thanks for the feedback! Here’s how it works – it’s like reading the page of a book! Go across, then down. Across, then down. Across, then down. Then when you’re at the bottom, you go over to the next section! Across, down. Across, down. Across, down. No need to be a dick about it.
For those who get frustrated finding music in a record store, I offer you these three tips:
1.Before you get too frustrated and feel like blowing your lid, ask. Ask in a clear, reasonably polite manner.
2. If all the staff is otherwise busy with customers, wait your turn. Don’t yell, don’t interrupt, don’t get yourself all worked up over a CD.
3.If the store doesn’t have what you’re looking for, don’t tell the staff that they or their store sucks. Some kid making minimum wage doesn’t care what you think.
Following these three simple tips will make your shopping experience that much more efficient, stress-free, and pleasant. You might even want to say “thanks” for the staff’s help. Saying thanks will help ensure a better experience next time you come in.
It seems like only last year, but in fact it was 10 years ago today. One of the only times we ever closed the store early was the Great Blackout of 2003. If you lived in, well, North America, you probably remember Blackout 2003.
I recall closing up shop in the mid-afternoon. It was obvious the power wasn’t coming back on, but the phones were working. We got the call to do our best to close up without power, and head home.
For many people, particularly in Toronto, this turned out to be an exceptional evening. People left their homes, went out and socialized. Many went to the beach. Me, I just sat at home and read a book until it was too dark to read. Then I turned in.
I fell asleep quickly, it was so quiet. Suddenly I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. I reached for my watch, my eyes trying to focus on the glowing hands. 4:30 am. I didn’t know what to think.
On the other end was Brandon “You Are So Punk” Hunt, who worked at our Niagara Falls location. That first night, they incredibly still had power, although that wasn’t going to last!
“Man, why are you calling?” I yawned. “It’s 4:30 in the morning.”
Brandon Hunt paused. “What are you talking about?”
Frustrated, I answered, “I’m looking at my watch, you’re calling me at 4:30 in the morning!”
Brandon paused again, and answered simply, “Dude. Your watch is upside down. It’s 10:00 pm. I just got home from work.”
D’Oh!
The next day, Friday the 15th, the power was restored in the early morning. Still, we weren’t supposed to be open. The government had advised all non-essential businesses to stay closed, and not put additional strain on our fried power grid. Us being so essential, were open (of course). That is until about mid-afternoon when we again had to close, due to rolling blackouts. The shit thing about that was that we were absolutely slammed with people that morning, we were overwhelmed. A lot of them were what I called “tire kickers” — they like to ask you a lot of questions but they don’t buy anything. Since nobody was open except us and a few other “essential” businesses, it was like a holiday for the general public. People brought in used discs by the box load to sell, I kid you not. I went through 300 discs from one guy alone. I had him leave his box behind because it was going to take a couple hours to go through, and then we ended up closing while he was out. He came back a few days later for his cash and unwanted discs (which was most of them).
When people reflect back on the blackout, they usually have fond memories and stories. Not me! I remember shit stories! Oh! And I had to throw out all the meat that I had bought that day before work too, because the fridge had no power. Fuck you, blackouts!
Remember the PMRC? If you were around in the 1980’s you might. The Parents’ Music Resource Center was an organization cofounded by Tipper Gore. They caused a lot of grief for musicians and fans alike. The PMRC wanted albums to have ratings, much like a movie, and to restrict certain albums to certain age groups.
Both Dee Snider and Frank Zappa raked them over the coals in a Senate hearing, but much damage was done. The PARENTAL ADVISORY – EXPLICIT CONTENT logo has defaced many rock albums. Sometimes it’s just a sticker, but almost as often, it’s printed over the cover art. Frank Zappa’s instrumental album Jazz From Hell was even stickered “explicit content” – an album that has no words at all! Huge chains such as Walmart refused to carry many albums such as this, and this eventually led to the rise of “clean” and “dirty” versions of albums. It was one way to get the records in the stores. This way, grandma can buy little Johnny the “clean” version of Eminem for Christmas.
This had an impact on us, an independent chain, as well. In the senate hearing, Dee Snider advised that if a parent is concerned about the music their kids are listening to, “I think a parent could take it home, listen to it. And I do not think there are too many retail stores that would deny them the ability to return the album for something different.”
Dee was 100% right. That was the policy that we had. If a parent wasn’t happy with the lyrical content of their kid’s purchase, we had no problem returning it. Even though there were times that I’d been yelled at for doing a refund instead of an exchange, we made exceptions when it came to explicit lyrical content. In those cases we often offered a full refund, and normally getting a refund out of us was about as easy as Steve-O removing this snapping turtle from his ass.
Some parents used to get upset that I would knowingly sell an album with swearing on it to their kid. Now, to be clear, we wouldn’t sell 2 Pac to a 10 year old. We didn’t do that. We would tell the 10 year to come back with a parent, and they’d whine and leave. However when a kid is in their mid-teens, and it’s harder to tell their age (or if their parents have a pickle up their behinds), we’d sell them the disc. And that’s when some parents would get mad. “Isn’t it illegal to sell this to a kid?”
No, it wasn’t illegal, thankfully. I would have hated to live in a world where I couldn’t hear Twisted Sister until my 18th birthday. But I was smart enough to know fantasy from reality, and my parents were trusting enough to give me that much credit.
Once you give the parents a refund, they were always happy. You never know what a parent would be offended by. One guy refused to buy Nirvana for his son, because Kurt committed suicide. One parent refused to allow her kid to listen to “black music” such as Backstreet Boys. No shit.
Very hard to tell just from this if it’s “clean” or “dirty”
For us, selling used CDs, I think the biggest problem was the “clean” and “dirty versions”. On some discs, it was nearly impossible to tell by the cover if it was censored or not, because often those kinds of stickers would be on the plastic shrinkwrap. Once the shrinkwrap was off, and the CD made it into a used shop like ours, the only way to tell would be to listen.
I spent a lot of time sampling Wu-Tang Clan albums to see if they were clean or dirty. Thankfully I knew where on the disc to check easily without spending too much time on it. We had to sell clean versions for less, because the majority didn’t want them. We had to exchange a lot of clean versions for something else too, when it wasn’t obvious by the packaging.
Looking back at the kind of music people used to get upset about, it seems hilariously blown out of proportion. I’ll end today’s tale with a quote from Dee Snider’s testimonial at the senate hearing:
“The PMRC has made public a list of 15, of what they feel are some of the most blatant songs lyrically. On this list is our song “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” upon which has been bestowed a “V” rating, indicating violent lyrical content.
”You will note from the lyrics before you that there is absolutely no violence of any type either sung about or implied anywhere in the song. Now, it strikes me that the PMRC may have confused our video presentation for this song with the song with the lyrics, with the meaning of the lyrics.
”It is no secret that the videos often depict story lines completely unrelated to the lyrics of the song they accompany. The video “We’re Not Gonna Take It” was simply meant to be a cartoon with human actors playing variations on the Roadrunner/Wile E. Coyote theme, Each stunt was selected from my extensive personal collection of cartoons.
”You will note when you watch the entire video that after each catastrophe our villain suffers through, in the next sequence he reappears unharmed by any previous attack, no worse for the wear.
”By the way, I am very pleased to note that the United Way of America has been granted a request to use portions of our “We’re Not Gonna Take It” video in a program they are producing on the subject of the changing American family. They asked for it because of its “light-hearted way of talking about communicating with teenagers.
“It is gratifying that an organization as respected as the United Way of America appreciates where we are coming from. I have included a copy of the United Way’s request as part of my written testimony. Thank you, United Way.”
A new original TV show was starting to make waves in Canada. I hadn’t caught wind of it yet — I didn’t have cable back then — but our destinies would soon intertwine. The catalyst was my old childhood and highschool friend, Scott.
Scott remembers the story much like I do. He used to come into my store every Wednesday to visit and check out new arrivals. He had just become addicted to this new TV show in question, and was spreading the word. According to Scott:
“I was trying to get everybody into that show…90% success rate by the way.”
That doesn’t surprise me at all. Because when you’re talking about a show as Canadian, as original, and as funny as Trailer Park Boys, the series sells itself. Scott figured I would be an easy convert. “I just knew you were a Rush fan,” he tells me. It was the Rush connection that initially caught my attention.
Scott was talking to me at the front counter. “Have you heard of Trailer Park Boys?” he asked me that day. I hadn’t. “It’s hilarious,” Scott continued. “You have to see this guy Bubbles. In the best episode, he meets Alex Lifeson from Rush. He gets to go on stage with Rush, play guitar with Alex, and everything. He’s actually a pretty good musician.”
Going into more detail, Scott explained: “Do you remember that band, Sandbox?” I did. “Bubbles is played by a guy from that band. He’s got these big thick glasses, always swearing…Bubbles is the best!”
I had seen Sandbox eight years earlier, opening for Barenaked Ladies actually. I was really impressed by their show and their single “Curious”, so I picked up their album. In fact I think their ambitious second album, 1997’s A Murder in the Glee Club, is among the finest albums our country has to offer. Their lead vocalist was a guy named Paul Murray, nephew of Anne.
Wanna see what Bubbles would look like with a shaved head? Watch this.
So I was in. As soon as the first box set came into inventory, I bought it, without seeing a single episode. Dandy ratted me out for buying two DVDs in one week (which was against the rules at the time), but once I got the discs home, I put on the first season. I was hooked by the second episode.
Now that the boys are coming back for an 8th season on SwearNet, it’s never too late to get yourself hooked on this incredible show. After all, if Axl Rose, Sebastian Bach, and Alex Lifeson are all fans, aren’t you curious what you’re missing?
See Guns N’ Roses play “Liquor and Whores” with Bubbles on vocals & guitar
Liquor and whores Liquor and whores Cigarettes and dope and mustard and bologna Liquor and whores
I went down Drinkin’ at the legion I met a girl she was nice She was pretty and pleasing
She said “Hey boy We should do some marrying” I said sure but before we do There’s something that you should know
I like Liquor and whores Liquor and whores Cigarettes and dope and mustard and bologna Liquor and whores…
Then one night down at the legion She walked in, I was drunk on gin Dancin with a lady friend She said hey boy, You’d better fly the fuck home I said no cause five little words I coulda Swore I said to you
I like Liquor and whores Liquor and whores Cigarettes and dope and mustard and bologna Liquor and whores…
Kids – do not crack your neck. Don’t do it. I know it feels good. Just don’t. I know the feeling, the release of pressure. The sudden relaxation of the nearby muscles. The temporary but instant relief from pain.
I used to crack my neck, apparently a bit too much, and by early 1996 it had caught up with me. I was about to go out for lunch at Casey’s with an ex-girlfriend of mine. We’d started to hang out again. I thought there might be a chance of getting back together, so I was looking forward to it.
I was toweling dry my hair, perhaps applying a bit too much force on one side, when suddenly: snap. Something hurt. Something hurt a lot. I collapsed to the ground, cradling my suddenly-too-heavy head in my hands. I’d experienced neck pain before (which started me on cracking it in the first place), but nothing like this! I was completely immobile. I sat like that, in pain holding my head in my hands, for 15 minutes. Finally I was able to find a comfortable way to stand up.
I took some Aspirin, and collapsed again in the stairway. I literally could not take both hands off my head without being in extreme pain. I had to be holding my head with at least one hand at all times. I considered cancelling the date with the ex, but quickly dismissed that option. The perceived opportunity for pity outweighed the physical pain. Now all I had to do was figure out how to put on my boots.
The ex arrived to pick me up, and she advised me to see a doctor. Nahh! I said. I took an Aspirin. Doctor Schmockter. I did know that, feeling the way I did, there was no way I was going to put able to pull a 4 hour shift at the record store that night. All that bending over and filing…one handed? No. Even though I was very proud of my perfect attendance record (no sick days in almost 2 years, a milestone I wanted to reach), I had to call in sick. I felt the pain of my now tarnished sick record.
We sat down at Casey’s, and I stupidly ordered French onion soup. Only when the dish arrived did I realize how hard it was to get the spoon all the way to my mouth without leaning. Leaning equaled pain, but by moving slowly and steadily, I gradually ate the soup.
I had a heavy scarf around my neck, and the warm soup going down my throat felt great too. Plus, the painkillers were kicking in. My mood brightened by the time my chicken arrived. When I had finished that, my sore neck muscles began to loosen up. I was regaining some mobility. Plus, the lunch was going splendidly! Conversation was brisk and good humoured.
“You know what,” I said to the ex, “I think I’m going to work after all.”
“Are you sure?” she queried. “Your neck looks really stiff.”
“It is,” I replied. “But it’s Wednesday. It’s a slow night. New stock arrived yesterday, Trevor would have finished stocking everything. I’ll be OK.” Plus, I was digging the new Extreme and wanted to hear it again.
Mike Mangini on drums
I excused myself to go to a pay phone and call the store.
“Hey man, it’s Mike,” I said when my boss answered. “Have you got anybody to fill my shift yet? Because I can do it. I feel alot better.” He told me that he was just going to work straight through. I assured him I was OK, and I got the ex to drop me off at the store.
I walked in, head cocked at an awkward angle, wearing a silly scarf. My boss was with a customer but he glanced at me, noting my odd posture. As soon as he was done with the customer, he turned to me.
“Oh, Mike…how in the heck did you do that again?”
Slightly embarrassed I answered, “Drying my hair.”
“You did THAT drying your hair?” he cried.
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “Does it look bad? Can you tell?”
“Can you tell?” he replied. “It’s as obvious as the nose on your face!”
Oh man. Oh man. I didn’t realize how comical I looked. Sure enough, several customers asked about my strange posture. And all of them had the same question:
“How in the heck did you do that?”
Drying my hair! Now leave me alone about it!!
Unfortunately this was merely the first of many such episodes. A high price to pay, for the temporary relief of cracking your neck. I should have just said it was whiplash from banging my head too much.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 216: The Most Expensive Thing I Ever Destroyed
The most expensive thing I ever destroyed was a Michael Jackson Ultimate Collection 5 CD box set. The discs were pretty hacked, but salvageable. We had the means to repair such discs, but the deeper the blemish, the harder this is. Retail price on it was probably around $55, we had sunk at least $20 or $25 into it. We didn’t see too many of them, which is why one of the staff paid $20 or $25 for a hacked box set.
Four of the discs we were able to fix no problem. One of them was really bad. It had one deep scratch in it that just refused to come out. Other staff members, even the guy who was generally the best at getting scratches out, had failed as well. One night it was slow in the store so I decided to take another shot at it.
I could see the scratch, clear as a bell, but I couldn’t feel anything with my fingernail. We must have buffed it down so close to the actual scratch. I just needed to buff a little more…and then I applied a little pressure. A little more. Looking good. A little more…
Then I felt the familiar, frictiony bite of the plastic in the CD melting. Once you’ve melted a disc, it’s done. Finished. Garbage. Worthless. You can see, if you look close enough. You can see a tiny deflection, a distortion, kind of like a hot road on a summer day. Once the plastic is melted, your player’s laser is refracted and the CD will skip. And it will probably skip very, very badly.
That’s how I destroyed an expensive and rare Michael Jackson box set, forever and ever.
Today, I was listening to some old-school Dio, and I had a thought. A sudden thought that I wanted to explore:
“My taste in music was 100% solidified by that month in 1986 that I had mono!”
Yeah! I think it’s true! I was sick at home for a month (at least) too tired to do anything except record videos on the Pepsi Power Hour! I was inundated with a steady intake of incredible songs, in many cases for the first time. And because I still have the old VHS tapes, I know exactly what’s on them. This brief but intense period of my life was rocked by this soundtrack, over and over again:
Spinal Tap – “Hell Hole”, the theme song that my sister and I dedicated to our old Catholic grade school!
These songs were first impressed upon me during that period, the visuals always cool and intriguing to me. Especially Lee Aaron. Ahem. Anyway. I watched these videos over and over again. I recorded the audio (in mono) (…hah, I made a pun!) to a cassette so I could listen to them on my Walkman. This came in handy at the cottage. We didn’t have a VCR or cable there, so the only way to bring my songs was to tape them from the TV.
That one intense period of being stuck at home with nothing but heavy metal heroes might have made me the LeBrain I am today. I’m glad something good came out of it! I couldn’t even go swimming that entire summer!
In summer 2003, we carried Electric Version by the New Pornographers on our front chart. One customer thought he was tremendously clever with this question, asked in loud bellow:
“The NEW Pornographers? What was wrong with the OLD pornographers? I didn’t know there were new ones! HA HA HA! Haaaaaah..ha ha! Didn’t get the memo! Hah…”
mikeladano.com 