As you are aware, the original Record Store Tales are almost done. There are only a few sub-chapters left in Part 320: End of the Line. I believe that, taken as a body of work and not cherry-picking bits and pieces, that it is a story of human frailty but also human strength and survival. There are laughs, and there are tunes. Lots and lots of good tunes.
Even though the entire story is almost told, I will continue telling tales of life’s absurdities. These Post-Record Store Tales (if you will) are already being written and are ready to be rolled out! The title, as suggested by you, will be revealed soon.
I just needed a new mascot. I felt that the old GI Joe LeBrain had run his course. Finding a new mascot, a new LeBrain, was a bit of a quest but I’ve finally settled on one. May I present to you:
RECORD STORE TALES Part 320: End of the Line #1: The First Interview
Every journey starts with a first step.
By 2005 it was obvious that my career at the Record Store did not have a future. Franchises were struggling, and I found myself on the outside of the clique of people who ran the show. I had sunk into a deep depression, which was exacerbated daily by the store. I was working as hard as I ever had, returning home exhausted each night, but the writing was on the wall. It had been for years. I put together a resume and began applying for jobs.
Assembling that first resume was interesting. I hadn’t had to look for a job in over a decade. Retail experience was one thing, but I was beaten down so much that I struggled to play up my skills. I couldn’t see my strengths. As I worked on it and sought advice from people I trusted within the organization, I realized my experience was anything but limited to a cash register. I had been responsible for training dozens of employees, and even some franchise owners too. I had been responsible for bank deposits, and sometimes I was carrying thousands of dollars in cash on my person. I had also spent a couple years running our website. I had travelled all over southern Ontario helping to deal with staffing issues. There was so much responsibility, and I had received so little credit for it, that I was selling myself short. Once I got some help and got that resume into shape, I started applying for jobs. One franchise owner wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation that I still treasure. It gave my spirit a huge boost.
Not having done a job interview in a decade, I was applying to anything, just to get my interview chops back. I had applied to sales and management-type jobs, but was shot down each time for “only having retail experience”. Even though I had managed a staff many times, it didn’t seem to matter. I worried that spending 10 years in one job wasn’t necessarily a good thing, like I thought it was.
I got a call back from a local chicken restaurant. They were hiring for an assistant manager position, so I gave it a shot. The interview with the manager was set for a Sunday; an odd day for sure but at least I had it off. I put on a pair of dress pants for the first time in a long time; I remember they were uncomfortably tight. I squeezed in and headed off to the interview. As far as a first interview in years goes, I did pretty well. As this blog attests to, if there’s one thing I like talking about, it’s music. If there’s two, it’s music and myself. I’m good at conversing, in other words. (I get this from my Grandfather who had “the gift of gab”.) However I had no food service experience and I really wasn’t all that interested. I was more curious what was out there.
Of course I did not get the job, but that interview experience taught me two things. One, doing an interview is like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget; you might be rusty but it’s easy to climb back on. The second thing I learned was to always make sure I have a pair of dress pants that fit!
My second interview went much better. I had applied for a position at Manulife and I nailed it. Even though I had given what I still think was the best interview of my life, I did not get the job, and my mood sank further. These journal entries have all the details:
Date: 2005/12/15 11:37 am
Man, that interview went so well. I was told that I was the best candidate they interviewed, but that there was also an internal candidate who was a favourite.
45 minutes after the interview concluded, I got an email saying the other candidate got the job.
Date: 2005/12/15 19:22 pm
Yeah, I guess I can admit I’m just really bummed right now. I definitely gave the best interview of my life today. And she said so many great things about me:
“You have such great personality, I would hate to see that stifled in you.”
“You are by far the best candidate I have talked to.”
We bonded over Pink Floyd, Helix, the St. Jacobs Market, Walkerton…it was a damn fun interview.
Ahh well. One thing for sure, I had a taste while I toured their building of what a REAL job is. They even had a Tim Horton’s on site! There’s a professionalism that my current job couldn’t even dream of having. It was fantastic. I have a very clear vision of what I want now, and I WILL get it.
Regardless of my bravado, this rejection hit me extremely hard.
There were very few people that I had standing orders to kick out if they ever came into the store. Sure, there were some. The Barefoot DJ was to be kicked out if he ever came in without shoes on his feet. The Creepy Twins, a couple of racist identical twin brothers, were to be kicked out if seen. The one that I remember most clearly was the owner of a rival CD chain. He was notable for his coiffed blonde mane. He looked like he was a member of Def Leppard, and still does to this day. The fear was he would steal ideas for his own store.
That CD chain owner, who I shall dub Mutt Lange, had a longstanding rivalry with my boss, the owner of our stores. Mutt seemed like a total douche. Just a pompous ass. When we first started out, we based our pricing scheme on Mutt’s own catalog. He published an annual catalog, which we bought several copies of each year. When we first started creating our own price database, we used Mutt’s as the starting point. That really would have chapped Mutt’s ass if he had known. I was even sent into Mutt’s locations to buy the newest catalog. They needed to send someone that wasn’t recognizable.
I recall not really being into Mutt’s stores. I don’t remember ever buying anything there besides the catalogs. T-Rev found some old Saga CDs there, but it wasn’t really my kind of place. A lot of cheap mainstream “Super Saver” CDs, but not a lot of the stuff I was looking for. The catalog was useful, because it not only indicated retail prices, but would tell us if an album was still in print (or not).
My boss also checked out Mutt’s website regularly. I learned a valuable lesson there.
“Look at this,” my boss said while loading up Mutt’s site. “This hasn’t changed in three years. His site is exactly the same. He hasn’t added anything, he hasn’t changed format, or changed the look at all. It looks like a place that isn’t even in business anymore.” That was a good point, so when we started up our own site, he made sure we gave it a good solid revamp semi-regularly. They’d change the graphics, the layout, and the way the search engines worked. That was probably the best lesson that I learned about e-commerce. Keep changing things up. People have short attention spans, but if it looks like your store is defunct, they’ll probably assume it is.
Back to Mutt himself – I recall seeing that blonde mane walk through my doors one summer day. It was actually T-Rev’s doors; I was filling in for him while he was helping to build a new store. And yeah, I had to kick him out! Not a fun experience I wanted to repeat!
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m getting closer to the end of the line with the Record Store Tales. These are some bits and pieces I had lying around that I never managed to make full stories out of. Below are four memorable characters from the Record Store days. It’s funny how even 20 years have gone by in some cases and I still remember these customers.
1. Richard the Indian. I don’t like making racial jokes, but Richard the Indian (nickname applied by himself) liked to make them, and always about himself! Richard had a First Nations Status card, which he had to present to us to be exempt from the Provincial Sales Tax. He used to joke at the front counter about his barely-working Discman: “This Discman must have been made by Indians, it already broke!” He was a nice guy, but I always felt like I couldn’t laugh at that joke! You know what I mean?
2. “Oops There It Is” Kid. This kid came in every week for a year, looking for the song “Whoomp! (There It Is)” by Tag Team (except he couldn’t say the name right). Being a kid, he wasn’t allowed to spend money, so he could never buy one of the albums we had. Then one day, we got in a whole bunch of cassette singles on clearance, including “Whoomp! (There It Is)”. It was a buck or two. You should have seen his eyes when we finally got a copy in that his mom would let him buy! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a happier kid.
3. Hammond Organ Man. I think this may be the same customer that I referred to as Jaded Rock Guy. The reason he was also known as Hammond Organ Man was that he refused to believe that one of our store managers even knew what a Hammond organ was (even though she did). I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe.
4. Johnny. This guy was a burn-out from my old highschool. He was in the same class as the store owner. In mid ’94 he was always coming in asking, “When is the new Cult out?” We hadn’t seen any release dates at all, but every week he asked the same question. “When will the new Cult be out?” Finally my boss answered him, “Next week,” just to see what Johnny would say. His eyes went wide. “Really? Can you hold one for me?” My boss told him he was just kidding, but he stopped asking about the new Cult album. Then when it finally came out in October ‘94, he hated it! He bought it from me new and sold it to me used.
Apologies in advance to my lovely wife. She really is awesome for letting me do this.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 314: The Musical Crimes of Mrs. LeBrain
As we wind down the Record Store Tales, we get to the point that I met Jen in September 2005. The funny thing about love is the rose-coloured glasses. I don’t remember Jen having such bad taste in music. However, the photographic proof is here. She recently dug up her old Linkin Park CD wallet (!!!) , inside which are many dirty and scratched CDs. Yes, Jen never took proper care of her discs either before we met, it’s true. I can’t even identify some of the filth on her Marilyn Manson CD. Could be coffee.
So here I am, a single Record Store Guy in the fall of ’05, meeting the love of his life…and these are the CDs in her collection. Thankfully we shared a love of bands such as The Beatles and The Darkness too. Even more thankfully, Jen doesn’t listen to Limp Bizkit anymore. (I mean seriously, look at these! She even owns the Limp Bizkit CD without Wes Borland!)
In her defense, I found no Nickelback. What I did find may upset you.
\m/
Coaster?
screeeeeeeeeeee
Nothing like NIN and Spice Girls on the same page.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 312: Reader Poll – Coming to a Close
Folks,
Sharing my Record Store Tales with you these past two years has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. It took me years to finally start publishing them, but all good things must come to an end. The seemingly bottomless well of Record Store Tales is now almost dry. I’ve plundered papers, hard drives, journals, photos and memories, but it was inevitable that eventually I’d run out of good stories to tell.
Sure, there will always be an occasion when I say, “That reminds me of a Record Store Tale!” and I’m inspired to write some new content based on those memories. When that happens, I’ll post it. However, I do feel the need to wind down the Record Store Tales and get on with the ending, which was already written a long time ago. I like to write so much more than just album reviews. When the Record Store Tales are concluded with the proper ending, I want to continue the storytelling. Music and retail will remain the main focus, it’ll just be from the other side of the counter.
The problem is…I don’t have a title.
“Record Store Tales” and…what? “Post-Record Store Tales”? “Record Store Tales: The Next Generation”? “Record Store Tales: The Other Side of the Counter”?
I invite you to come up with better titles than these. Submit ideas in comments below. There are no guarantees I’ll use your suggestion, but if I like it, you can be the person who names the next chapter of my story.
Penmanship: something we all learned in school, forgot, and don’t think about anymore due to the advent of the computer. Very few jobs today require good penmanship. What might surprise you is how important penmanship was in the CD store days.
In the early days, buying and selling used CDs, we maintained a manual log. Every CD we bought was logged, along with the seller’s name and identification. Every CD had to be named. We couldn’t just write down “15 CDs”. You had to write down each title. “Puff Daddy – No Way Out”, “Dance Mix ‘96”, “Titanic OST” (original soundtrack), and so on.
One of my staff had very, very “girly” writing. You know what I mean – each letter looks like a balloon animal. It was mostly readable, but apparently not to the police detective who used to collect our log books.
“Can you read this?” he would ask me, trying to make a point. “Can you please tell this person to print legibly?”
“Well, I did speak to her about this a few times. That’s her handwriting, that’s about as neat as it will get. She really is trying.” The detective was not happy.
One afternoon, he called me, really pissed off. He had absolutely had it with the bubbly balloon writing. He asked me to read off every single title that this person had written down in the log. Admittedly there were a couple that I could not make out. He went through this exercise largely just to make his point. He did it again the following week. He picked the longest page from the log book that he could find, and I painstakingly read every title to him, one by one.
“Are you sure about that last title?” he would interrupt. “You say it says ‘Metallica’? That’s an M?”
Then a week later, we went through the same exercise again. He made his point. Eventually we switched to a computerized log system, which they had been pushing us to do for a while. That at least ended the long phone calls with the detective, trying to read the girly balloon letters.
My own handwriting is pretty shit, but according to him it was better than big balloon letters!
I can only say so much about this subject, for hopefully obvious reasons. I can say this: Yes, I have had to testify in court, in a case of stolen CDs.
It was the Monday after Mother’s Day, in the year 2000. It was a long, ongoing case, a break and enter. I had forgotten all about it. I had made my written statement a year prior. The store had done nothing wrong. We did everything exactly as we had to, when dealing with a situation like this. As per the instructions of the police, we took all the correct ID from the suspect when buying the CDs, and followed all the correct procedures. When dealing with stolen goods, the police actually preferred us to buy the goods rather than send the person away. That way, they get evidence.
Unfortunately since I was the buyer this time, I was a witness and was therefore subpoenaed to testify. Two of my co-workers from other stores also had to appear in court. I was the only one who decided to wear a suit and tie for my appearance. The other two came in jeans and T-shirts.
“Mike!” laughed Cam. “What are you wearing a suit for? You look like you’re the one on trial!” I looked around. Indeed, the only people who seemed to be dressed as nicely as me were the people who were on trial and their lawyers! And I didn’t look like a lawyer.
“I thought you had to wear a suit to court,” I said in ignorance.
Without going into details, here’s what I remember:
– Cam got a parking ticket because there wasn’t any parking available.
– We spent hours waiting in a room that looked like school class room. Hungry and unable to leave, we decided to order a pizza. We pooled our cash together but didn’t have much left for a tip. I remember that the delivery guy threw the extra coins back at us.
– A year after the incident, I couldn’t remember what the guy looked like. I remember him being big, and bald. That was not enough to satisfy the court that I could recognize the accused. My testimony was all but useless.
I remember reading in the paper a short while later that the defense lawyer got his client off. It wasn’t really a surprise to me.
I only had to go to court twice, both for this one case. The experience left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The store had paid cash for the CDs we bought from this guy, but we never got compensated for them when the police took them as evidence. In my experience, we only ever got compensated once, and that was just for four CDs. Although we always cooperated with the system, and made sure we always followed procedure, we got burned too.
20 years ago…20 YEARS AGO!…I was hired at the old Record Store. It wasn’t 20 years ago today; I don’t remember the exact date. But it was mere days before my birthday, two weeks at best. I was given some money for my birthday, and I remember the exact CD that I bought on July 19, 1994. It was Rush. Chronicles.
So here’s a confession, something I’ve never admitted to here before. Privately yes, but not publicly. That Rush Chronicles that I bought 20 years ago today was my first Rush album. Ever.
I was pretty late to the Rush party. I didn’t really start to pay attention to them until the 1990’s. Growing up in the late 1980’s, in my age group, none of my friends liked Rush. As far as I could tell, nobody liked Rush. They simply were not in my hemispheres. I had seen their music videos on Much, but for the most part I didn’t like what I saw. A funny looking guy, keyboards, a guitar player wearing a tie…I overlooked Rush.
I did like one song. “Subdivisions”. That song was undeniably cool, with that slick synth part as the main hook. This song, I dug. Way more than “Tom Sawyer”. Way more than “Red Barchetta”. Definitely more than “Time Stand Still”, which I considered an embarrassment at the time. “Subdivisions” stuck with me, through highschool, through university. I decided I needed to get it, so I finally started exploring the Rush repertoire. And I started with Chronicles.
I would have got it sooner, but I didn’t have the money. Now I had money, a staff discount, and access to hundreds of used CDs in great condition. I had arrived in my own musical paradise!
I was soon enthralled with Chronicles. Many songs that were new to me were quickly becoming favourites: the new-to-CD live version of “What You’re Doing”. The silly but instantly likable “The Trees”. Most of all though, “Red Sector A” from Grace Under Pressure. For a brief while, this song unseated “Subdivisions” as my favourite Rush track.
On this day, I’m going to extend a hearty virtual handshake to the man who gave me a chance at that job, the owner-founder of the store. He did it just because he knew my dad, and my dad asked him to help me out. He didn’t have to, he didn’t even ask for a resume. He just asked me to come down one afternoon and talk. That one talk irreversibly changed my life, and I look at that moment as the end of one life and the beginning of another. It was one of those proverbial turning points.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 304: The Richard Parker Files
Don’t you hate it when you see an able-bodied driver flagrantly park his or her vehicle in a no-parking zone? That’s one that drives me nuts. For example, at one of the local malls, you’ll see people constantly parking in the lane where the NO PARKING signs are quite clearly visible. They run into the cash machine and run out again, even though there is a 15 minute parking spot available right near the cash machines, that is always empty.
Obviously these people must be in a rush. They may feel like they are more important than you or me and everyone else who actually properly parks their vehicle in a spot. It might be a fire lane, but no firetrucks were about to pull up, were they?
Maybe it’s just the asshole in me, but I didn’t like to see that in the Record Store Days. Once in a while, I wouldn’t serve a customer who parked in front of the store. Especially when I can see dozens of empty spots mere meters away. My store was not in a busy plaza. There were always close spots available. The laziness and attitude of entitlement really ground my gears.
I recall one instance very clearly. A young man pulled up to my store one store morning, and parked on the curb. There were NO PARKING signs along that curb that he chose to ignore. He came in with a bag of CDs for me to buy.
“Hi. How are you? I want to sell these,” he said.
“Sure!” I said with a broad smile. “Why don’t you go and move your car to a parking spot, and I’ll get right on it.”
He paused a moment, but had no problem with my request. “Sure, I’ll be right back,” he said. We did the transaction and I had no problems with the guy. I just politely asked him to move his car for me to proceed, and he did. No big deal.
I didn’t do that often. You could tell when the customer wouldn’t have listened to you anyway. But I looked at it as a service. Once, a guy got ticketed right out front and he didn’t notice. I was working at another location, with a more cramped parking lot. Likewise the curb lane was also narrower. It pissed me off when people parked in it, making it hard for others to get around, but it happened every day.
This guy pulled up, parked on the curb, and shopped around. I saw the parking control person outside the window, writing tickets. I laughed to myself. The customer was too busy looking for CDs to notice, even though his car was right out the window.
The parking control lady left a nice ticket on his windshield. The driver was in my store for about half an hour, and didn’t notice until he was done. I had to chuckle. That’s what happens when you’re a Richard Parker.
mikeladano.com 