It is the Christmas rush at a music and video store in a very large mall back in the mid-1990s. Five cashiers are manning a line about a hundred yards long.

An old lady walks right up to the front of my line, cutting off tons of people, and shoves her pile of videos and CDs on the counter. I pause to look at her and the already-obviously-rising rage in my customers in line immediately to her right.

Me: *Politely* “The end of the line is that-a-way.”

I gesture to the back of the store. She looks at me and, without missing a lick, says:

Customer: “I’m not gonna buy all this stuff if you make me wait in that line.”

Me: “Okay, bye.”

And I started ringing up the next customer in line. She got all huffy and stormed out while the customers and I chuckled.

A young guy comes into our music store, and he immediately looks a bit confused. I offer to help.

Customer: “Yeah, I need to get a vinyl record player, but I don’t know anything about them.”

Me: “Sure, we have a good selection! Let me walk you through them.”

I show him our range from cheap to high-end, and I explain how they work, what he needs to do, etc. He’s being very attentive and asking good questions.

Customer: “Thanks! I will take this one.”

Me: “Solid choice! It’s a good-quality mid-range unit and great for your first set. We also have a decent collection of vinyl, both new and vintage, if you’d like to have a browse. I’m happy to throw in an album or two for free if you’d like to get your collection started.

Customer: “Oh, thanks, but I already have a collection. My dad just died, and I inherited his music collection. I wasn’t allowed to have a close relationship with him as he came out later in life and my mum never forgave him, but I got his record collection as inheritance, and I figured I could get to know him through that. He loved his collection.”

Me: “Oh… wow.”

Customer: “Anyway, thanks! Let’s take this up to the counter!”

I’m used to some customers giving me TMI (occupational hazard), but that was the first time it got me all teary-eyed. I hope you got to know your dad, young man!

My mom is a piano teacher and is shopping in a music store. A kid (maybe around ten years old or so) comes in and walks up to the clerk.

Kid: “I want to learn an instrument! I love music!”

Clerk: “That’s great! What kind of instrument?”

Kid: “I like the ukulele.”

The clerk shows him some where the entry level is about $65. The kid runs back outside to his mom waiting in the car, then comes back in and asks:

Kid: “What is the cheapest musical instrument you have?”

The clerk starts showing him a $3 kazoo.

Overhearing this makes my mom sad, so she goes over and asks the kid:

Mom: “Do you really want a ukulele?”

The kid nods.

Mom: “Will you promise to practice and learn it?”

The kid nods more enthusiastically.

My mom hooked him up with the instrument, a beginner book, picks, etc. When she left the store the kid and his mom both waited to give her a hug.

It is the gold age of CDs, and I am working in a music store. A customer and her teenage daughter come in, and while the teenager browses, the mother approaches me.

Customer: “Do you have the new album by Nipslut?”

Me: “Uh…”

The teenage daughter comes running over, almost knocking stuff down to get over to us as quickly as possible.

Daughter: “Excuse my mother. She wants to buy an album for my older sister for her birthday. The latest release by Slipknot, please!”

Customer: “That’s what I said!”

Long ago in the dim ages, when bear and bison swarmed the forest and the prairie, my brother worked at a guitar shop. They had a regular customer named Anatoli. Anatoli was the epitome of the Big Russian Bear: tall, broad, and just sort of physically thick all over, with an incredibly deep, thick Russian accent. He claimed to be former Russian Special Forces and had a few interesting stories to tell; regardless of whether the stories were true or not, the very real and visible scars that went along with them made him look even more imposing. He also loved to play the mandolin and was by all accounts one of the nicest regulars the store ever had; he was always polite, never impatient, and had a good relationship with all the employees.

They had another semi-regular who was a jerk — just an unrepentant a**hole. He loved to berate new employees, especially women, and store management was spineless and wouldn’t ban him because he spent middling money there.

Finally, one fateful day, Anatoli and the jerk were in the store at the same time. The jerk had arrowed in on a brand-new female employee and was in the process of yelling at her until she started to cry.

Anatoli noticed the commotion and walked over. He apparently was remarkably good at walking quietly despite his size, so the jerk didn’t notice him coming. He grabbed the jerk by the back of the neck, and casually asked the girl, in his trademark Russian rumble:

Anatoli: “Does this man bother you?”

She nodded. Anatoli looked down at the jerk and admonished him:

Anatoli: “This is nice girl. You leave her alone, yes?”

He then walked the jerk over to the main door, released his neck, and just stared at him until the jerk left the store.

My brother worked there for about another year after that incident and never saw the jerk again.

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