Homer's Music, Gifts, and Shitty Employees

What a drag when you revisit one of your all time favorite record stores and learn that the life has been sucked out of them. Maybe I’m a tad overdramatic here, I don’t live in Omaha so I’m not sure if I faced an associate who just didn’t like his gig or if the entire location is filled with that lackadaisical ambivalence that says “We’re running on a limited life span, and we just don’t care any more.” Regardless, the dude that took my money is a representative of Homers Records and, because of his attitude I have a different opinion of that establishment.
A little history.
One of the best record store moments ever happened at Homer's Music in the Old Market. Years ago, I was accosted by an over-zealous clerk here who eagerly kept putting discs in my hand, encouraging me to try other titles based upon the answer to one question:
“So what have you been listening to lately?”
My answer was Cat Power’s Moon Pix and within moments, my hands were filled with a bunch of cds, many of which I wasn’t familiar with. Noticing my hesitation on one of them, he took it out of my hand, ripped open the sealed packaging and took me over to a listening station for me to listen to it. While I listened, he went on to another customer. I’ll confess that I didn’t like the disc that he chose for me, but I was under such enormous pressure, I mean…he opened it for me already….wasn’t I supposed to by it now?! I left the disc in the tray and made my way up to check out before he noticed that it wasn’t part of my pile of stuff.
“Whadya think?” he asked, noticing my escape plan.
“It was pretty good. Thanks!” I said, not letting him know that it wasn’t my thing.
You may think that this is a fairly bad example to show when demonstrating the positive characteristics of a record store clerk. The fact is, I walked in to Homer’s ready to by one Cat Power disc and ended up with that plus about three other titles. In short, his enthusiasm and passion for music caused me to drop more than I originally intended.
Fast forward to the most recent encounter.
First of all, the inventory had diminished. Not dramatically, but to the point where it was noticeable. It was still enough to have me feeling a little overwhelmed like I normally get when entering a good record store: what the hell am I looking for?
I noticed that Scratch Acid was playing, always a good sign, and I decided to separate myself from the rest of the casual tourists by asking the clerk a question that I already knew the answer to.
“Is this Scratch Acid?”
“It is. Wow! Most people would automatically assume it’s the Jesus Lizard.”
Understanding that I now impressed him with my knowledge, I decided to dazzle him with the following bit of information.
“I actually got to see Scratch Acid live in ’87.”
He declared that I was a lucky man and then it dawned on me: I’d better buy something really cool to demonstrate that I still listened to irreverent music.
I looked in my hands. The used copy of Bruce Springsteen’s The River and Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea didn’t seem challenging enough to further impress the long-haired clerk.
I though about getting Qui, Yow’s current project, but fuck that little cocksucker for not making me as one of his MySpace friends. It’s juvenile, I know, but I’ve given Yow enough of my money over the years.
Then, I begin to realize that I’m too old to try and impress anyone and that I should be filling in my needs before worrying about some dude that was still in diapers the night I saw Scratch Acid at the Central. I decided to look for Go Betweens’ 16 Lovers Lane, but had no luck
Side note: Homer’s now has a complete section encompassing three shelves of Insane Clown Posse albums. Why they couldn’t have neglected one of those titles in return for a Go Betweens record is beyond me, but I guess Jugaloos pay the bills more than fans of Aussie pop rock.
They didn’t have Qui either.
I cut my losses and go up to check out. This time, it’s a different dude as the Scratch Acid clerk is helping someone else. The guy I’m dealing with is rapping up another customer, but doesn’t bother to lift up his fucking head to see that there’s somebody else behind the dude that’s giving him money. After the transaction, he walks away, leaving me at the counter with no assistance. Meanwhile, Scratch Acid guy is calling a customer to let them know that the special order has arrived. After a bit of silence, I overhear that Homer’s has ordered the wrong title for the customer and that they’ll need to correct their mistake. Wanna know why people shop online? There you go.
Finally, the canvas case boy with glasses notices me after picking his ass for a while and offers a retarded “Did you need to check out now?”
No buddy, I’m just looking at this box of Bit-o-Honey for no fucking reason.
He rings me up, tells me the total and takes my money, again without making eye contact. He then places my receipt and change on top of my purchase and slides them over the counter towards me, not once offering a “Thank you.”
Wanna know why people download albums for free? There you go.
One would think, particularly in the face of insurmountable competition…the kind where you don’t actually pay for anything…that record stores would be a little more grateful that any patrons would be shopping at their location(s). The days of the smug record store clerk are done, eliminated by sheer financial necessity and if the remaining stores are remiss in understanding this, then they should be blessed with a quick “going out of business” death.
Because the only chance you’ll catch me at Homer’s again will be to bask in the glory of their store closing clearance sales.