The Ground Floor : The Ground Floor

Welcome Initiates

2008-01-16T22:14:08Z

Herein lies the very depths of my worldly pain.

I pour
it out upon the page for you, the reader, to digest.

I hope you�re hungry. . .

Everyone gets 2 knives and you�re envited to
eat with your hands.

Todays Special:

It has a briny crust of bitter truths and sharp shards of introspection,

but tear into the flesh of it, you�ll find
that my gooey middle is delicious.

It may entertain you (although that�s not my
goal) & it could offend you

(I don�t really care).

Throughout I will endeavor to be faithful in context and
educating in prose.

Special attention should be paid to:

Sarcasm

Cynicism

Allegory

Rebus

Thanatos

Along with other literary devices I will illuminate the scene 4U.

Examples will be plentiful but that
is why we�re here.

My quill is at the ready.
Let us begin��

Bitterness is
an emotion of anger felt as a result of a real or
imagined wrong done.

Etymologically from "ressentir", French re-, intensive prefix, and sentir "to
feel";

from the latin
"sentire". The English word has
become synonymous with anger and resentment.

It can be an emotionally disturbing experience that is being
felt again or relived in the mind.

When the person feeling resentment is
directing the emotion at himself it appears as remorse.

(See Kierkegaard and Nietzsche; also 12-step discussion of
Resentment)

Meet The Players

2008-01-17T05:59:27Z

These are the primary characters,

if you recognize yourself and don't like how you're portrayed -

STOP BEING SUCH A DOUCHE!

Larry � A metro sexual with a penchant for small shirts and
the color black �

he represents ruthlessness, volatility and helps to bring out
the most destructive me.

Graham � A coffee addict and a general sweet dude. He hides his bitter side much better than I.

Chuck - A good
natured musician who just likes to take a beating. The modern masochist.

Bryan � A session player that knows money makes the world go
round, an even bigger whore than I.

He
is extremely neurotic. We have some great fun at his expense.

Bob Sr. � The smokestack captain of our crew. We�ll shorten his name to BS, the reason is
obvious.

Bob Jr. � The underling of BS both figuratively and genetically. Henceforth known as BJ.

Jack � Our guitar
tech. The eldest member of our motley crew
and will likely enjoy more

birthdays than any of us, he deserves it too. I picked his pseudonym special,

he�s got as
much reason to be bitter as anyone and allows the debris to fall off his back.

& then there�s me . . .

I�m Curt � A 30 something retail whore. Bitter to the core.

I�ve prepared for war & I intend to settle the score.

I�m well versed in lore, a wild boar with a tendency
to roar.

Are you ready for more gore?

Behold! What�s beyond the trapdoor? . . .
.

why it�s the sales floor of a busy retail music store.

Welcome to the ground floor.

What does color matter? You're Fucking Blind!

2008-01-18T04:30:24Z

The first hurdle I face is where to begin. I must find a way to balance both the classic tales of skull duggery with the never ending barrage of new What the Fuckisms.

OK, how about a note on color choices?

Electric guitars often come in a few different colors. . .actually many more as of just a few years ago. Why? To offer more options to the consumer? NOPE.

To aid in the visual identification of models available? WRONG. They call it Auto-Order or perpetual inventory.

In short, let's say the store decides to carry a single model of shit indonesian guitar. (NOT a comment on indonesians in general, but your guitars really suck)

Well, a perpetual inventory system will automatically order one of each color to provide a selection - not bad so far, the three options are red white and black.

Unfortunately somewhere along the way the Shit indonesian manufacturer (under contract with a US or Japanese Corporation) realize that lots of places use a similar inventory system.

In a stroke of marketing genius they see that it doesn't matter how many guitars the retailler sells . . . just how many the retailler buys "automatically"

So . . . . every new model becomes an automatic sale - add a color send one to every retailler, Maple fingerboard instead of rosewood - send one (in each color) to the retailler.

3 guitars that suck just became 8. It gets worse limited: editions, pickup options, gloss vs satin finishes, it's all a scam!

Get this - at the end of the model year they discontinue several colors and add at least as many new ones.

They just keep sending those shit indonesian guitars.

Any idea what happens to the puke yellow thing you sent me last year with the 3 humbuckers and the floyde bridge?

ITS STILL ON THE FUCKIN WALL! Surprise!

It goes down 2 ways - either A) The customer wants a discount on the instock model because it's a discontinued model

or B)The customer wants a color that is discontinued and not available. This is the beginning of a huge saga of calling around to find a store in the chain that still has one in stock.

Finally the guitar will arrive - "this is brand new right?", "I don't know about this color", "do you think you could find me another one?

"Bring it in and I'll choose between them."

I typically wash my proverbial hands at this point. Even if I see 3 more in the local area my answer is No.

" Yeah, but I when I told you to bring in an orange-red guitar, I was hoping it would be more red and less orange."

and my internal response is

"when I took this job it was to work with artists not chodes",

Did Shakespear whine about the color of his quill?

Something even the average redneck knuckledragger can comprehend -

Jeff Gordon doesn't care what color his car is - as long as the stearing works.

You don't hear what color the guitar is on the album (and you can change the cover in photoshop)

Just buy the damn guitar and get your ass into the woodshed. While you're in there be sure to play with the band saw.

There you go! Is that the color red you were hoping for? Looks great! sounds even better!

Wow! It felt great to get a few drops of the venom out.

Sadly, I didn't even get to tell you about the Blind guy we call "Mr. Peepers".

Don't worry I'm not going anywhere and he's not getting off the hook that easy.

Would you like to wear the Happy Mask?

2008-01-20T00:41:08Z

Saturday is Hell in the retail world.

It's the day when all the tirekickers plan to meet up with their kinship to try out the electronic drums.

A note about drummers: TEMPO is kinda important!

How do you know when the drummers at the door? The knocking keeps speeding up and slowing down.

And since I mentioned the door. It is the big rectangular glass thing with the store hours taped to it.

Apparently a hard concept to grasp - often I am accosted on my way to the door, people wait like birds of prey

biding their time . . . waiting to pick out my blood shot eyes...

" I know you guys don't open for another 20 minutes but can I just grab a pair of sticks?"

Here's how this goes - he comes in and grabs his sticks then prodeeds to wander throughout the store.

I only turn the lights over the drum stick display to help him focus on his Raison D'etre.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition. 2002.

raison d��tre

(ray-zohnn DET-ruh) A basic, essential
purpose; a reason to exist:

�Professor Nay argues that in the
nuclear age, infantry forces have lost their raison d��tre.�

From
French, meaning �reason for being.�

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately the man-child has developed great night vision and scurries into the nether-regions of the percussion dept.

I collect BAMBAM and escort him to the till.

(which of couse is not open - CAUSE THE STORE IS CLOSED!),

after booting up the ancient POS (pun very much intended)

I manage to get him moving toward the door.

As you may have guessed - by now it is 10 minutes to show time and 3 more simpletons are peering in past the huge sign that says what time we open.

Look at the sign - cup hands and peer inside - see movement inside - pull ferociously on locked door. knock. wave. repeat!

If only I had a bucket of tar and feathers perched above the door. Better yet, a crucible of molten lead. Back to reality . . . .

I put my key in the door . . . Thunk! Thunk! The dollard outside pulls locked door. I make uncomfortable eye contact through the door.

History of the term Dollard

Adam Dollard was a 25-year-old professional soldier who had been in
the colony for three years. He approached the governor of New France, Paul
de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, in Montreal. Dollard proposed that he,
along with a small force of volunteers, could set up a defensive position
in the hope of preventing a junction of the two Iroquois bands. He wanted
to make his stand near the rapids of Chute a Blondeau, where the Ottawa
and St. Lawrence Rivers converge - - a place called the Long Sault.

In desperation, Dollard
tried to toss a hand-made grenade filled with musket balls and gunpowder
over the stockade into the midst of the attackers. The grenade struck the
top of the barricade and fell back into the stockade. It exploded killing
several of the defenders and blinding others. In the following confusion,
the Iroquois gained the barricade. In hand-to-hand fighting, Dollard and
all of his men were soon cut down.

I give the key a half turn . . . Thunk! Thunk! AGAIN! "Well. . ." I turn to Ringo and say "Looks like someone else can't read."

"um . ., yeah . ." he responds sheepishly.

I reach for my key a third time and stare down the uber-tool through the glass.

The door opens and I'm greeted with 3 more cases of garlic morning breath.

It's pointless to try to explain anything to them, obviously, they cant even read the sign.

I shrug it off and turn on all the lights . . . " I guess we're open".

There is only one thing to do - adjust to clock to compensate.

My day has just begun & I can't help but think about the happy mask. . .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the back room, just above a silk-screened mirror painted with Jim Morrisons face

is taped an old plasic bag. On one side it bears the logo if its originating establishment

and on the other is a crudely drawn happy face. Its purpose is two fold -

put it on your own head and nobody can tell you're not happy, the world will slowly fade away.

or put it on someone else and you just can't help but smile when you see it smiling back,

puckering ever slower as time passes.

Below is an artists rendition of the happy mask. Enjoy

CLOSED SUNDAY

2008-01-20T15:08:58Z

Can't you read the Fucking Sign!

Come back tommorow.

Damn . . . .�

Respect the Day of Rest - I need it if I'm gonna be fake nice next week.

DJ's are NOT real musicians

2008-01-21T02:53:39Z

Let me start by defining DJs in this context.

I'm not talking about the urban musician who composes epic beats on his MPC2000.

I'm talking about the disc-inserters, the shady guys who show up at closing time with a girlfriend in tow.

Here's a recent example:

She approaches the counter and says "I need to rent a mic"

He's on his cell like "yo, man we just be getting the boom boom, but this place is whack"

Here's why we're whack - there is no DJ section to speak of. . .

No trussing of shitty lights, no turntable displays, no single ear headphones, no 1000 watt sub pumpin da beatz.

We rent PA equipment for live performance - speakers, amps, mics, and a whole bunch of other stuff they don't understand.

"just a mic?" quickly followed by "have you rented here before?"

"No."

I look to my right

The clock says 9:00pm. Closing Time. Just under the wire I guess - I hand her a contract and a pen.

"what do you need?" I ask "just a mic?" I pose the question again knowing full well they're gonna want $2000 of gear at least.

She turns to verify what she needs. All of a sudden she's filling in the contract and he's telling me what he needs

"2500watts per side, with tha big subs. 3 wireless mics..." etc ad nauseum.

This is a perfect oportunity for me to stop time - Just for a moment to reflect my thoughts on Wireless. THEY SUCK!!!!

Wireless is good for only one thing - Making you look like a chump when it inevitably fails - PWND as they say.

Give your singer a wireless mic and try to keep that clown on stage. Add the fact that nobody gives a shit about rental gear,

and you have a recipe for disaster. So what! if you get a refund for the rental when it fails!

You still looked like an idiot when it happend, and the audience will remember you infinitely longer than I will.

Anyway . . .

The lights are going off. That means that now M.C. Fly-by-night is eating into my personal time, A red hot ember starts to smolder deep in my gut.

"so you guys rent turn tables, right?"

"No, just musical equipment"

"any special lighting?"

"Stage lighting. Like musicians use."

"how about lazers?

"how about you give me the rest of your list, we've all got places we planned on going tonight"

His phone rings again and I start assembling his gear.

That's a rule too, if a customer takes a call, you walk away.

Move on to your next customer. Total disrespect - it's fucking rude, learn some social skills ASSHOLE.

I test all the gear and confirm it works correctly. I don't think he's warrented sabotage just yet.

The crew has closed all the tills by this point and is gathing anxciously to determine the holdup.

Oddly enough, our lives don't revolve around what this dink needs to rent. The time is now 9:15pm.

I call BS for a credit check while I draw a wiring diagram and Graham bags the cables.

It's been a painfully long shift - as always.

"why do you need all this info?" she asks

"well we are giving you $2400 worth of gear" I reply

"and my credit card too?"

"you could leave a Full Value Deposit if you prefer, then no questions asked"

I see BS approaching and give him the - make a descision and let me go home look you see on my emplyee ID.

He asks the same questions as always - what is the event, how long do you need it, why did you only put a cell number down on the contract?

An recieves the same answers we typically get - house party, just tonight, and I don't give out my home number.

If it were my shop, Full Value Deposit would be the only way you got a closing time rental.

It's because 99% of the time they're scams or chodes and frequently both. They want you to rush through the credit check so you can go home.

I've got a better idea, deny the rental and I can go home. Problem solved.

"so you know you're taking personal responsibility for the gear."

She looks concerned - not a good sign. M.C. Cellphone looks at her as if to say "we need the gear Yo!, fo shizzle"

"Do you guys have insurance?" He asks, another flashing red light.

"It may be covered by your home insurance" I shoot back with my best fake smile.

So . . long story short - consistant with our corporately appointed mandate to "take it in the ass" - BS approves the rental.

"Pull your car around to the rental door and we'll get you loaded up" BS says, then wanders off.

as soon as they walk out to pull around -

"$10 says it won't fit in their car" Graham says, "any takers?"

Silence. It would be like burning the money. "$20 says she returns it alone and doesn't lift a thing" I retort.

Again, no takers, we've all been here again and again. " and late" I add.

CORRECT on all 3 counts. They're driving a Fucking Omni!

You will fit one speaker into the vehicle. MAX. Thats with a bungee holding the hatch.

"Looks like you're gonna have to take 2 trips" I say walking out with my coat on. Slam goes the door be hind me.

It's like 1000lbs lifted off my back, sweet freedom.

"I'd stay here with it if I were you, and keep your eyes on it, gear has a tendancy to walk at parties"

I guess I could have mentioned that they need batteries for the wireless. One more drawback of wireless.

Fuck it! 1/2 hour of my life I'll never get back. That's a little passive agressive I think.

So, I saved a few people from bad rap. Besides, I know it's coming back late anyway.

Lack of intuition and indecision, without provisions may result in rescission and derision.

Definitions of rescission:

noun: (law) the act of rescinding;
the cancellation of a contract and the return of the parties to the
positions they would have had if the contract had not been made;
recission may be brought about by decree or by mutual consent

Definitions of derision:

noun: the act of deriding or treating with contempt

noun: contemptuous laughter

The moral of the story is -

DON't be "That Guy" who shows up at closing time & if you are that guy through a: be quick, apologetic, proffessional, and leave a big tip.

If you're with "That Guy", don't let him take you down with him, wait in the car or better yet mock him relentlessly, the staff will love you for it.

YES - The gear did come back - LATE - She was ALONE - did not lift ANYTHING

I cheerfully refunded the wireless mics and charged her for the extra days -

-----------------NET refund $ 1.98

Getting out at closing time PRICELESS

Like Father Like Son

2008-01-22T06:37:57Z

Genetics are a funny thing. The proverbial apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

So if dad is really dumb and plays music then chances are good that Jr will be drooling at my counter soon enough.

Take for example young Brutus El Nero, idiot son of Nero El Nero. OK so dads name sounds fake eh?

Nobody would name their kid Nero El Nero right? Half wit father of the half wit father would be my guess.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

Jr says "these cables are tangle free!"

(tangle free in the packaging anyway)

Dad says "what is that? some special coating on there?"

Yes, cable conditioner they call it, they've had it in hair products for a while but its new in pro audio.

I can top that - how about the insane one and his boderline retarded spawn.

He finds a product for sale online and wants us to order it.

We don't sell that brand.

"why?"

because we're not the local retailler.

"why?"

well either the product was no good or they required that we keep too much in stock.

It just wouldn't sell fast enough to be a good business descision.

"Why?"

because it's a product no one uses, its proprietory to a specific brand, they only sell in packs of 10 etc.

"why?"

we carry products that many people need and can't just order misc accessories on a whim, there's no extra space as it is.

Not to mention my previous article on the perpetual inventory scheme

.

I can special order it for you with a non refundable deposit through a new distributor.

"but I just want to try it!"

"why?" I ask (2 can play at this game)

"it seemed cool on the net" he answers not realizing my sarcasm.

"why?"

"I don't know, it has a cool belt clip and stuff"

"why?" I prod again, alas, his attention has shifted and he's off to frolic in the keyboards.

They may have half a brain between the four of them.

I suggest MANDATORY STERILIZATION.

They say you are what you eat - if society crumbles and we resort to cannibalism . . .

NO STUPID STEAKS FOR ME~!

Sheeple meet the Sheeple, We'll have a Gay Old Time.

2008-01-23T03:08:24Z

(experience relayed by Chuck and Graham as I returned from lunch)

"Shred Flinstone was in . . . he brought back the 2x12", they sing in unison.

"Of course, ughh" - I reply, keeping my head down.

Shred Flintstone is actually a guitar teacher. He looks exactly like Fred Flinstone.

Ham Fisted. Inaccurate. Tonedeaf. Really quite uncommonly stupid.

An intellectual throwback. . . "So . . ya got some a dem dare wally bars?"

I sold him a 40w tube amp 1x12 that was more than he needed.

I carried it out to his car. Parked by the door? NO

He returns it on my day off and orders a 40w 2x12. Lateral move, more weight.

The next week his new amp arrives and he comes in to tell me,

"I was sneaky,I got da bigger one..."I really need da extra powa"

"OK great, I'll grab it for you"

Ring up the 2x12 and cart it out to his vehicle. Parked by the Door. NO

Load it up for him and send him on his blissfully ignorant way.

---------------------------------------------------------------

So now this one is coming back too. Am I suprised? NO

It was pre-ordained. Like a lemming. A dumb lemming. Fate.

There are no virgins. Life rapes us all.

So it came back. Here's the punch line -

Chuck - "I'm giving you back $950+tax (the full amount),

we can't refund that much from the till but I can put it back on your debit card."

S.Flintstone - "But I gave you cash"

Chuck -
"but I don't have enough, it is immediately available"

S.Flintstone -
"but I gave you cash"

Chuck -
"this is the same as cash, I'll refund it to your cdebit card"

S.Flintstone
"you can put money back on a card?, I didn't a know dat"

He pulls out his debit card when his better half chimes in . . .

Dino "that won't work, thats not a debit card, thats a bank card"

Chuck -
"let's just try it."

Presto. You have no amp. We're back were we started.

Encore!!!!

Presto. Chango.

I have 2 slightly used amps selling for full price

and 2 more automatically on order from when we sold the first 2.

Reasons sited for returning it:

Too Heavy (couldn't see that coming)

Too complex (as is a light switch)

Oddly the amp designs were both the exact same -

If it was too complex why did you order a bigger one?

Oh wait, I think I know.

Not All Sexy Girls Stay Sexy

2008-01-24T02:31:01Z

Again - I'm coming back from lunch.

- Is it six yet? Is it six yet? Is it six yet? Is it six yet? Is it six yet? Is it six yet?

Nope.

I like to take my lunch late so hopefully my buzz can last till the end of the day.

What's this? A sexy readhead leaning over the counter asking Graham some questions. I don't know what she's saying but I imagine it's something like . . .

"So when's Curt coming back? I've got something I'd like to show him."

I approach from behind noting her long legs, thigh high leather boots and fishnet stockings. Her shoulder lenghth hair is the coulour of autumn leaves and she's holding what looks like a guitar. Can this chick get any sexier? Only if she's carrying cold beer and hot pizza!

Now, we don't see many women in the music store (other than the occational wife dragging hubby out by the ear or a frumpy mom with her kid and friends who've begged to come in and ruin my day (ie. play electronic drums they can't afford))

She turns slightly and I catch a profile view. Not even a hatchet face, what gives?

Maybe she's in town to dance in a video - my mind races, how can I get in on this.

" do you need a hand Graham",

Damn. That sounded so fake. Graham knows I would never purposely interact with customers so soon after lunch. Still, I'm hoping she came to see me.

At this point she turns around and I catch an unexpected eyeful.

She's holding a BANJO. Immediately I'm flacid. Curt Jr. hides like a frightened turtle. The image is burned in my mind like witnessing a trainwreck. It haunts my dreams - there is no escape.

"we're good, thanks" Graham says, letting me off the hook.

It would have been less traumatic to find out she had a penis.

My wife likes to grope me when I'm home for lunch (what a tease). I often find myself returning to work sporting wood but that memory alone seems to keep my hormones in check.

I don't anticipate seeing topless twins at the store anytime soon but . . . .

if they have Accordians I might just go GAY!

And ladies - Chicks with Guitars are hot! Gals with Banjos are NOT!!!

Learn a Lesson & Get a Free Scar

2008-01-25T04:21:59Z

This is a Mandolin

And so is this . . .

Playing with either one indicates a desire to have your fingers cut off.

I assisted in a thumb repair today thanks to the second.

For Fuck Sakes! It's called a Mandolin - I'm not gonna touch it!

Perhaps experience is required. People learn by doing.

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

they are not even inocculated by personal tragedy.

I like to consider the whole room to be the frame of my experience.

This means that if something fails in my sphere of perception, I learn from it.

Step toward your goal, now, look around. Assess the situation.

Physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, there are open wounds we deal with daily.

Scars serve as lessons taught. Lessons learned is another matter.

Die without scars and you're a slacker, a wasted life.

Smooth skin is a sign of SLOTH.

I'm just suggesting, that you don't have to be a festering scab when it's your time to go.

I feel every persons failure as my own. That's not a bad thing.

The worse they fail the less I have to.� I can gather the energy of it and find

a little lesson in it for myself.

Luckily I'm in a place where I get to see MUCH failure every single day.

Look around you - there's a lesson starting right now.

Back again?

2008-01-27T03:30:30Z

Didn't I see you here last week about this time?

I could have sworn I pointed to the sign.

Well . . . Keep pulling on the door I'm sure someone

will be here to open up for you in a few hours.

Oh yeah - I almost forgot to mention - GET BENT!

Be Patient Be Curt

2008-01-28T05:33:55Z

Monday morning and who should I see

but mr. Stewart Pidity.

Well Stu's not his real name but it doesn't matter,

He'd be a great gay lover, for the Mad Hatter.

Obnoxious, loud, deaf and quite dense,

& he wants a wireless, - now it makes sense.

"I don't wanna spend much money"

"Here, try this - it's used"

"I can't understand"

"I see you're confused"

"I'll take it anyway, You've made a sale"

(Ignore the voices or you'll end up in Jail)

"How much is it?"�� "65 bucks"

I can pretty much guarantee that it sucks.

Well, its coming back, that's a safe bet

but lilkely not for a while yet.

it'll return, that's safe to say . . .

after it fails at his next gig - In May!

I could have went on about how it was funny

"put it on my account" On account of he had no money!

I also could have mentioned how as I typed it in

He demanded to see it. take it for a spin

& I could note when BS came by

"we don't need a contract, I know this guy"

So I turned on my headlamp and prepared to cave

when out of the shadows I was suddenly saved

His buddy pipes up, "I can loan you the dough"

"here's your reciept, take your friend & GO"

�

Repairs a Epic Saga Exposed

2008-01-29T02:02:15Z

In the long list of things I hate, Technology repairs are pretty high up.

The average user gets a manual and doesn't read it.

Afterall the best part about new stuff is playing with it and learning.

The most deluxe items are ussually simple enough if you have just half a wit.

The definition of wit is only this, that it is a
propriety of thoughts and words;

or, in other terms,
thoughts and words elegantly adapted to the subject.
--Dryden.

The advanced user downloads one and doesn't need it.

& then we have our trusty subject.� All hail the Wrench.

�

The wrench wants the manual. . . .

he has already downloaded it . . . .

he won't wait for a new unit in the box . . .

He'll take the floor unit and have you order him another manual (and box)

There is no SKU for just a manual, ordering a replacement is a Pain

It involves tedious phone calls and special purchase orders.

So . . here's what happens, a new unit is ordered, (perpetual - like my suffering)

when it arrives we give the manual to the wrench.

What does this have to do with repairs?� I'm getting there. Patience.

Here's what having 2 manuals does for a wrench

He gets to compare them and scrutinize any differences

He wants a specific model of generic footswitch

He finds out how to do a FACTORY/CLEAR MEM reset

It's like giving the retarded kid next door a chainsaw.

Most of us know what a Factory Reset does versus a Clear Memory Reset.

Any guesses which way wicked wrenches wildly wander to first? SARCASM lives here.

And then it comes back on repair.

"All the sounds are gone"

"how strange."� I quip.

In my mind, it's like slamming my fingers repeatedly in the rusty door of an old Buick.

The tag goes on it and it's sent for repair (a few weeks at least, he's been told)

3 days later he's on the phone "it it done yet", "how long will it be" ,

"I need that back right away, I've got a show to do"�

Who are you kidding? What kind of idiot would hire you? Oh, Family function, I see.

So anyway, 2 weeks and 4 calls later his gear is returned, reloaded with presets.

"No Fault Found,� except the memory wipe, won't do that again, eh?"

then he'll look into the box and exclaim

"where's my manual and footwitch?"

Anyone who's been paying attention knows what comes next:

SLAM!

No mention of repais would be comlete without a Big F.U. to LOVE SONG GUY.

Maybe LSG is on LSD, that might explain it.�

A conversation with him is always one sided, it stars with him telling you

about his busted gear,

"I used to have a 61 SG, but I smashed it.

Then I got a Les Paul and broke it, I've smashed Strats, Peaveys, Martins . .

But that's what I do . .I write love songs"

Throw in some truly legendary B.O. and the mixed scent of puke and beer

and you have a faily accurate character sketch.�

I'd like to taze him. - SLAM!

I'm Burnt - Is it 6:00 yet?

2008-01-30T02:25:51Z

Stick a fork in me I'm done.

Another long day at the grind. The busy days are sometimes better -

Lots of coffee also helps. It all just becomes a blur after the 4th cup.

"I'm making the run"

"Oh yeah - count me in"

"your regular order?"

"Yup, FVCD" (that's french vanilla & chocolate danish)

"just one?" he laughs

"yeah, I'll grab the next round"

So how does 4litres of sugar water and a half dozen flaky pastries make someone so bitter?

I don't know - I thinks it has less to do with what I put into me

& more with what "they" take out of me.

Why do I do it if I hate it so much?

Well, I love to buy gear. Really I enjoy many aspects of my job.

Like personifying people based on their actions.

How you act determines how you're percieved and a name just suits you,

For instance, The Mad Hatter has been mentioned in a recent post.

What's his deal? The day Mad Hatter came in he was just a regular guy,

a customer who would have recieved prompt curteous service until he chose another path.

"Hey, I need a guitar."

"Ok let's see what we can find for you."

I should note that it's 11:00 and he's slurring,

the distinct scent of cheap liquor radiate from his pores

I ask all the appropriate questions:

Electric or acoustic?

Steel string or nylon?

With a pickup?

Etc.

We determine that he desires a higher end acoustic (steel string) with a pick-up.

I suggest a Taylor, a Larivee, a Martin, then I show him a high end Takamine.

"what!, Takamine is SHIT!" he bellows, a mother and her kid flinch just a few feet away.

"Fuckin, Jap guitars" he continues.

"OK, so no Tak, are you interested in something used?" I ask.

He's been here 10 minutes so far, he looks at his watch and gets up with a start.

"I'm late, I'm late" he puts down the guitar in his hand and I expect him to grab his coat.

Instead he grabs a $4000 Gibson off the wall.

"$4000, yeah right!" pushing it back onto the wall smacking it into 2 other guitars over $2500.

Next, he pulls down an expensive Guild and starts strumming wildly. Then he starts to Sing.

"I'll give you a few minutes" a singing customer is salesperson repellant.

20 minutes later he's still singing - " so . . . do you have any questions?"

It's like I snapped him out of a trance, "Oh shit, I'm late, I'm so late"

He pops up like an alcoholic whack-a-mole, but, instead of leaving he grabs a Taylor Acoustic.

Whatever. Lots of other people are waiting for me, he's not gonna buy anything today.

I have my doubts as to whether he could afford a guitar of that calibre. I know I can't.

I leave him to wail away and slam the poor defenceless piece of wood.

20 minutes after that he's shrieking throught the closed glass door of the acoustic room.

"Curt!, CuRT!, CURT!!!!" he calls over the acoustic amp he's got cranked to 11.

I don't want to go back in there but he is screaming my name. I cautiously open the door.

"Curt! Curt!, This sounds GREAT!"

"awesome. So is, that the one?"

"Whoa slow down, whats your hurry?"

"I just though you had somewhere you needed to be."

"Well, what time is it?" he asks looking down at his watch yet again, "I'm late, I'm late" etc.

I leave him to it - like I say, I could never afford a guitar like that working here anyway.

I already know he'll never buy the guitar he's been flailing on for an hour now, he'll want a new one.

At the very least, a deal on that one. Go ahead ask me for a deal and I'll drop it right in BS's Lap.

As I expected, he did eventaully decide to go with the Taylor, on a subsequent trip.

He did want a deal on it cause it was "used," he did speak with BS and got a discount.

Furthermore, his mode of travel was a bicycle. He did not buy a case.

2 weeks later he returns it and wants a new one (at the same price) because it's scratched.

Luckily I had a day off and did not have to witness the no lube sodomy endured,

to make the customer happy. It was raining that day.

Did he take a cab to pickup his $2000 Taylor? No way. Any case second time around? No.

We did offer him an extra large bag, (ripped holes in it for his arms and head too)

He also bought and returned a few acoustic amps since.

His credit card clears so . . WTF.

If you see a biker riding with one hand & wearing a large plastic bag while

carrying an expensive guitar in the other . . .

Try to clip him so the guitar lands someplace soft.

But make sure he's really dead, cause I'm sure he'll moan like he sings.

Loud and Terrible.

That's all for today - I gotta go, I'm late, I'm Late!

Gibson Gary and Les Paul Larry

2008-01-31T03:57:03Z

Imagine this . .� a couple of twins, identical twins, 60 year old identical twins,

bowling shirts, pompadors . . .� ladies and gentlemen Evis is alive and squared.

The statistical odds continue to rise when I tell you they both play guitar, rockabilly.

They come across like nice enough guys, (thats a shining accolade from me)

Here's what I like about them - they know what they like, they're laid back & patient.

I'm laid back and patient with them in turn.

I see my job as a bit of a conflict with customers like these.

They always come in asking about new models (domestic guitats only!)

Fender Gibson Gretch.

The bulk of of the conversation always turns to past instruments they've had and lost.

There is much Regret and Gnashing of teeth, they really beat themselves up about it.

It's interesting to hear 2 people speaking in parallel about similar yet individual events.

"I wish I never sold that Gold Top Les Paul" Gary says.

"I should have kept my 335, it was the best." Larry laments.

No sooner do they finish the litany of past 6-strings lost, they inquire . . .

"How much is my 61 SG worth on trade?"� (Larry in my left ear)

"What can I get for a deluxe american strat?" (Gary simultaneously in the right)

Guys - this is the classic recipe for regret.� Rinse and repeat.

The conflict is pitch them on new gear and take the classics on trade OR

convince them to keep their guitars and lose a sale.

I exersize my integrity (cause I'm on salary anyway) and suggest they keep them.

"You guys will just end up missing your classic gear."

"What would you do if you were me?" They ask in unison.

This is my most hated question.� In about 95% of cases I have to fight the urge to say,

"If I were you, I'd put a gun in my mouth" (sometimes the urge is intense!)

"Just put one on account if you like it, pay it off over time"� I suggest.

"I think I might just do that" Garry says

"Yeah, me too." Larry adds.

Imagine that.

The moral of the story is - Don't be a wrench and I won't go out of my way to screw you.

They never try to haggle, they play well, obviously practice, and consistantly show up

in the middle of the day. Kudos.

Fair Warning -

Come in with your bratty kid, push your way to the front of the line,

demand service, show off your vintage guitar with "original" strings, and request a trade value. . .

You will get one - a low one.�

I'm not above taking a sweet guitar in and calling up a friend who sells

on EBAY.�

By the time you reconsider your stupid move it will be gone.

Lament this!� You lost an irreplacable instrument but got a free lesson in Regret.

If you learn from it, that's still a pretty good deal.