Happy In Bag

Thursday, August 06, 2009

Scratch















It had been years since I had been kicked out of a record store.

I was regularly booted to the curb when I toiled as a music industry sales rep. It happened most often when I would attempt to pull product from stores that had failed to pay for their orders. Other store owners mistakenly thought I was doing reconnaissance work for their competitors. Some didn't appreciate my insistent approach to sales. Others just didn't like me. (I get it.)

I was reminded of my earlier exploits a few days ago. While shopping on Melrose Avenue I innocently happened upon an old-school vinyl shop.

After the cantankerous owner chased away curious pedestrians- "This isn't a photo shoot!" he bellowed- he turned on me.

"Don't touch that!" he began. "It's worth forty thousand dollars!"

When I demonstrated my fluency in jazz vinyl, he decided to impress me by mocking his competition, scoffing at popular music, complaining about a wealthy Chinese client and belittling a beleaguered employee. (The poor soul is a dead ringer for Art Pepper.)

The raconteur is arrogant, stubborn and scathingly defensive. I loved him immediately. (The guy reminds me of a pricklier version of the late Ron Rooks.) Not everyone shares my affection for the man. He's raked over the coals at Yelp and All About Jazz.

So, was I kicked out? I'm not sure. We enjoyed a heated discussion and he was still campaigning as I walked past an Ed Hardy outlet next door.

5 Comments:

  • At 4:31 PM, Blogger bgo said…

    Thanks for the reminder about the "good 'ol days'.

    Old hipsters in Hawaiian shirts give me the creeps. If he had a mismatched fedora on I really would have lost the sandwich I just consumed.

     
  • At 4:35 PM, Blogger Happy In Bag said…

    This entire post, BGO, was written for your benefit. Still, I wish to make it clear that I'm completely sincere when I state that I love this man. I truly wish I had more people like him in my life.

     
  • At 10:13 AM, Anonymous Joel said…

    The wife and I stumbled on this shop by happenstance when we were in L.A. last summer. The owner was a complete d-k, and not in the endearing way Ron Rooks could be. How dare I sully his shop with my unappreciative ears and dirty Midwestern money!
    Have fun with Skinner's mom, Comic Book Guy.

     
  • At 10:25 AM, Blogger Happy In Bag said…

    Independent confirmation! I was beginning to think that it was all a dream.

     
  • At 3:15 PM, Anonymous Joel said…

    Either that or *we* are both jerks, which I highly doubt.

     

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