By way of introduction, let me tell you that I used to worked in a small, independent record store. If you ever want to taste the crazy, you get yourself a job in a record store. Not a big, chain record store, but a small local shop where you get lots of regulars hanging out. I know working with the public always offers its fair share of hilarity, but I've worked with the public in other jobs, and trust me, a record store is like the gold medal ceremony of insanity. Needless to say, the job left all of us who worked there with lots of stories. Frankly, I'm not even sure how amusing they are to anyone who wasn't there, but since many of my most enduring friendships started behind that counter, I'm going to tell some of them. Or, well, at least one of them. I know at least five people will appreciate the walk down memory lane. I hope it's not too boring for everyone else.
Some of my favorite record stop stories involve stupidity in shoplifting, and this particular incident always stands out in my memory. So, the scene: it was a Friday or Saturday night - very busy night in the store, thanks to our proximity to a movie theater. Two young men came through the door, and one approached me at the counter while the other moved towards the CDs to start shopping.
The guy who came to the counter told me he wanted to special order a cassette by Twista. We had a procedure for special orders in which we asked the customers to address a postcard to themselves, which we then mailed to them when their order arrived. I got him to address the card to himself while I looked up the catalogue number. When he was done I said, "OK, thanks, should take a week or so to come in." The whole transaction took maybe a minute and half.
Instead of walking away, this guy stood and stared at me for a minute. He glanced around a few times. Then he said, "Ummmmmmmm.....uhhhhhhhhh....Twista is a rap artist."
At this point, two things became clear to me:
1. I had been racially profiled.
2. Something else was going on here.
I informed him, "Yep, I got it, thanks." The store was really busy, and while my co-worker and I both knew something was up, we didn't have much choice but to let it ride for now. (Well, I suppose we had a choice, but we didn't care that much, truth be told.) I saw him and his friend have a semi-heated exchange and then nervously walk out of the store.
When things calmed down, my co-worker and I went in the back of the store to check the security tape. Sure enough, this guy's friend was shoplifting while he was valiantly attempting to keep me busy at the counter. The beauty was the shoplifting technique. There was a camera in each corner of the store. He had turned his back away from one and had made a big deal about concealing what he was doing from that camera. Meanwhile, he was looking the camera in the opposite corner almost dead on as he opened his coat and loaded it up with our entire stock of Biggie Life After Death CDs. He kept glancing back to make sure the other camera wasn't getting him. To give him credit, that one wasn't. The other one, well, he might as well have been performing a scene in a film he was so much in the frame. I wish I had the video and could post it here. It was truly hilarious.
For the most part, our zeal for tracking down shoplifters kicked in on a case by case basis, and these two had endeared themselves to us by their sheer stupidity. Still though, we weren't going to lose our jobs over them. We'd be in trouble for letting them walk away with that much stock - those were double discs! So, we had to call the cops. Here is where the icing on the criminal mastermind cake comes in. We didn't have much to give the cops to go on - except that special order postcard the Mr. "Twista is a rap artist" had addressed to himself....but surely not....
Yep, you guessed it. Real name, real address. The cops went to his apartment, retrieved the CDs and we left it at that. And you know what? I ordered that cassette and mail him his postcard when it came in. He picked it. And paid for it.
