Peddling To The Metal (Heads)

| FL, USA | Romantic | June 3, 2013

(I’m shopping at a music store. I pass by a scary-looking guy in all black, with his hair dyed in dark blue spikes, covered with chains, piercings and tattoos. He seems to be buying an album from a local death metal group, whose cover features sexually explicit and anti-religious artwork. The scary guy takes the CD up to the counter.)

Scary Guy: “I want to get this, and a soda.”

Salesperson: “Coming right up.”

(The salesperson gets a soda from the small refrigerator behind the counter, and starts to ring the scary guy’s purchase up.)

Salesperson: “So, uh…[death metal band], huh?”

Scary Guy: “It’s for my girlfriend. She digs that s***.”

Salesperson: “This is for a girl?!”

Scary Guy: “Yeah, so?”

Salesperson: “Girls don’t listen to music like this!”

Scary Guy: “Uh, yeah she does. Just bag the disc, man.”

Salesperson: “I can’t let you give this to a girl! She’s probably just pretending to like it because you do!”

Scary Guy: “Don’t give me any crap. Just ring up the d*** CD.”

Salesperson: “Girls don’t like this music!”

Scary Guy: “All right, you and me are gonna have a problem, right—”

(Suddenly, a girl comes around the corner. She looks a lot like the scary guy; she is also wearing all black clothes, lots of piercings and tattoos, spiky pink hair and a choker that says ‘F*** you’.)

Scary Girl: “What’s going on here, babe?”

Scary Guy: “Pencil-d*** here won’t ring up your birthday present, angel.”

(The scary girl suddenly turns on the salesperson.)

Scary Girl: “What f****** business is it of yours what my babe gets me, pencil-d***?”

Salesperson: “Uh…”

(The scary girl leans over the counter, right in the salesperson’s face.)

Scary Girl: “I think you had better give us what we want, pencil-d***.”

(The salesperson goes completely white, and finishes the transaction at lightning speed.)

Scary Guy: “Thanks for jack-s***, pencil-d***.”

(The scary guy gives the CD to his girlfriend.)

Scary Guy: “Here you go, angel.”

Scary Girl: “[Death metal band]? Awwww, babe! You’re the darkest!”

(They walk out of the store kissing. I approach the counter with my own purchase.)

Me: “Just this for me, pencil-d***.”

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Got A Whole Lotta Love For This Manager

| Buffalo, NY, USA | Working | June 3, 2013

(I’m a 14-year-old girl. I’ve just selected three Led Zeppelin CDs, and head to the counter to make my purchase. The cashier is a middle-aged man.)

Cashier: “Are these for your dad?”

Me: “Actually, no, they’re for me.”

Cashier: “Uh, the One Direction CDs are over there.” *points*

Me: “Yeah, well, I hate One Direction. I much prefer Led Zeppelin.”

Cashier: “But girls your age are supposed to like One Direction!”

Me: “Yeah, well, I don’t! I like Led Zeppelin.”

Cashier: “It’s obvious that you have some sort of mental problem. It’s not normal for girls your age to like classic rock.”

(The manager has now approached the counter.)

Manager: *to cashier* “You! To my office now!” *to me* “I’m so sorry about that. He shouldn’t be talking to you that way. Personally, it’s great to see kids your age that appreciate great music.”

(He gave me 50% off for my troubles.)

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Stiff Upper Lip Vs The American Quip

| UK | Right | February 15, 2013

(I work in a small independent music shop in the UK. Although our shelf space is limited, we have a pretty good reputation, because of the musical knowledge of our staff and our ability to source and order some really obscure CDs.)

Customer: “Do you have [certain CD] in stock?”

Me: “I’m afraid that we don’t have it at the moment.”

(I quickly checking our database, I find that we’ve never had any requests for it until today.)

Me: “I can source it for you. Would you like to place an order?”

Customer: “I need it today. I’m going back to the States tomorrow.”

Me: “I’m sorry; the suppliers of this disc usually take a couple of days to get things to us.”

Customer: *looking hugely put out* “Well, can you send it to San Francisco?”

Me: “Yes, that should be fine.”

Customer: “I guess you’ll drop the shipping costs, seeing how you didn’t have it in stock when I asked.”

Me: “I’m afraid that isn’t policy in this shop. We don’t pretend to be able to keep in stock any CD our customers might ask for, after all. But if you—”

Customer: “Oh, yes, I know what this is. This is Britain muddling through, isn’t it? Just sixty years ago, you won the war; now you can’t even keep a CD in stock.”

Me: “I’m sorry; we’re only a very small shop, and there’s a lot of CDs—”

Customer: “Oh, yes, my friend said you’d try to make excuses, and she’s a Professor, you know. But look!” *holding up three CDs she’d like to buy* “I’m keeping you in business! Britain, muddling through!”

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One Word Republic

| Bartlett, TN, USA | Right | February 6, 2013

(I work at a well-known music store. A customer in his mid-40’s approaches my register.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m looking for a CD for my daughter for her birthday by ‘One Republic’. I forgot which CD the song it is on. It goes like this: ‘it’s too late tapollagize, it’s too late’.”

Me: “I think you mean ‘to apologize’, sir. But right over here, please follow me.”

(I pick up the CD ‘Dreaming Out Loud’ and hand it to the man.)

Customer: “No, no, no! This can’t be it.”

Me: “I assure you this is the CD with the song ‘Apologize’ on it, sir.”

Customer: “Are you stupid?! This can’t be it! ‘IT’S TOO LATE TAPOLLAGIZE!'”

(I was eventually able to convince him he was wrong, but he still left the store without buying the CD.)

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Misogynists Can Make You Fret

| Anchorage, AK, USA | Working | January 31, 2013

(I’m a female musician and own most of my own equipment. While I can’t fix things myself, I do usually know what’s wrong, though most people assume I don’t. In this case, I am 18 and need to get the pickups in my vintage electric guitar rewired. I’ve taken it to a local shop that also does repairs.)

Clerk: “Can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I called earlier about my ’72 SG. There’s a faulty connection and the pickups need to be rewired to the toggle switch.”

Clerk: “Are you sure? You probably just had it turned up too loud.”

Me: “No, I’m sure. Can you fix it?”

Clerk: “…Probably. I’ll give you a call when I’ve looked at it…”

(Three days later, they call me back.)

Clerk: “Hey, I looked at the pickups and there’s nothing wrong. You just need to keep the volume down.”

Me: “That shouldn’t matter. Are you sure?”

Clerk: “Yeah. Just come get it.”

(This isn’t the first time I’ve been dismissed at this shop, so I decided to bring my 6’2″ father.)

Clerk: “So you’re here for the guitar?”

Me: “Yeah. Can you explain again what’s wrong?”

(I’m expecting the same simple explanation about the volume, but instead the clerk launches into complex explanation of the problem.)

Clerk: “…and so the pickups were originally wired backwards. I’ll need to take them apart and redo it.”

My Dad: “Then why did you say there was nothing wrong?”

Clerk: “Well, it’s vintage. The parts are hard to replace.”

My Dad: “…But can you do it?”

Clerk: “…Yeah.”

My Dad: “Then why aren’t you?!”

(That was six years ago, and the wiring is still faulty!)

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