The Race Card?

A few days ago a customer asked me if I could call the Berkeley store to see if they had a certain dvd in stock. I politely told the customer that the mgmt (har!) didn't want us doing that anymore ( it takes up the cashier's precious time.) I also informed the customer that he can call the 1-800 number and they'd be happy to check the inventory of any of our stores. The customer then got really frustrated and told me "is it that hard to pick up the phone and just call Berkeley for me!?"

This guy had a blue tooth in his ear.

I then told the customer that my manager (whom (is that the proper use?) was 10 ft away from us)) was on the phone and that it is the only phone line we have. Then he walked up to her and I walked away.

Later a friend came up to me and said the customer told my manager: "If I was the other color he would have done called for me."

Seriously guy?


I'm not white, and I know that's what he assumed. I was doing my job, and he was being a big baby crying becuase he didn't get his, lazy way. It never ceases to amaze me how many people have that card ready and waiting to use at any given time, in any situation, even for the littlest ones. This kind of thing happens all the time, at every job I've had. Maybe I should start pulling the race card too, or trying to look more... "Mexican/brown" I guess...


Just kidding, I like the surprised look on people's faces when I start speaking spanish.


--c!

vampire music?

There are certain albums that have a weird effect on me when I listen to them, especially on vinyl... at high volume.

It seems the blood drops right out of my face. My face gets kind of numb.

Here's a short list of the ones I can think of off the top of my head:

The Smiths - "Meat Is Murder"
The Jesus & Mary Chain - "Psychocandy"
Spires - "Flowers & Fireworks"
... and The New Trust - "Dark is the path" & "Get Vulnerable"

My friends and idols are totally awesome.

Much like my long lost step brother Fred Savage...



--c!

bah hurmburger

So the other day an older dude came up to the buy counter selling a bunch of punk cd's, and in typical buy counter patron/buyer fashion, we engaged in small talk. He asked me if I was a punk connoisseur. "My punk days are over," I replied. He then asked me about what bands I listened to and after discovering we used to have very similar tastes, he turned me on to this portly gentleman...



Jay Reatard.

I thought this guy was from England and maybe that's why I liked it so much... turns out he's from like Tennesseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee yeee haaaaaaw!

--c!