This is a node recalling my times working at a second hand record store. It was the most interesting job I've ever had - probably the most interesting job I will ever have. It's pretty much non-fiction1, by the way, which is why some of the tales may not sound epic.
"Can you get on, man?"
My initial reaction was something akin to "What the fuck?", followed by the person asking the question quickly rushing out of the store. 'The Store' was a second hand CD store in the city, which I had frequented often before receiving a holiday job there. I quickly learnt the meaning of these four words: "Can you sell me marijuana?". As if the low-priced CDs and my attempted salesman charm weren't enough, these people wanted me to sell them drugs. "Cool, they think I'm a drug dealer." Surely this couldn't be too much of a bad thing.
Once I worked this out, the job became even more fun. Even more fun than talking to people about good music all day; even more fun than controlling the huge amplified speakers. People attempting to be subtle would beckon me to a corner of the (huge) store, then proceed to look around and whisper into my ear. "Can you ... y'know ... get on?"
I had to think of some witty comments to reply to these people with. I mean, I couldn't actually deal them drugs. I didn't want a criminal record, and this was the coolest job I'd ever had. "No, but my friend Constable Scott can." Nah, lame, I won't use that one again. "If you spend more than $100 in the store" Nah, I'm not on commission. "Yeah, sure." Followed by the action of pulling out the biggest snap-lock bag I could find at home (full of Oregano, of course) and handing it to the customer in broad daylight - You should have seen the sucker run!.
Ah, it was beautiful. The bag served for a second purpose, too; sitting on the floor between the counter and a magazine rack - for second hand magazines, of course (notably a very cool guitar magazine with a Smashing Pumpkins special). I watched probably ten people walk past it with me standing behind the counter, working out whether I'd notice. The people who actually did try gave up when they heard my laughter.
I noticed the other guy my age working their (who was full time, though) was never asked if he could "get on", even though he contantly wore a shirts reading "Enjoy Cocaine", "Stoner's Pot Palace", "LSD", etc. Surely that would attract drug-seekers more than metalhead gear? I thought it was odd at the time, but it all made sense when I crossed my next learning curve.
Coming soon... The Most Interesting Job I've Ever Had, Part II. That's if you like my write-up.
Don't like it? Please tell me why.
Oh, and this write-up does not condone drugs
(Yet). Sheesh.
1 Okay, there are a couple of embellishments, but it's all pretty much the truth. |
