SMOKE ON THE WAAATERRR – 28 (Guitar Center)
Date: 2012-05-05, 10:20AM EDT
Going to Guitar Center is the burden of my rock life… worse even than my co-workers thinking I’m psycho for being in my late twenties and in a band that doesn’t make money. You walk in the door knowing that you will be called “Dude” in a faux casual way at least ten times in a row. When you finally pass through this goateed, hoop earringed, tribal tattoo jungle of GC lingo and ask for help, they’ll be like
“Oh sick. What do you play?”
“Yeaaaa,,, what kinda stuff you into?”
“You in-a-band?? Where do you all gig at?”
“Nice choice, that’s the only kind I use….” whatever, sure it is. Please just let me buy my goddamned stuff without trying to sell me a clear bodied BC Rich Warlock. Without fail, there is a 12 year old guitar prodigy kid plugged in and turned up way too loud, finger tapping some shit that would take you a year to learn, effortlessly, while his hack of a Dad is 5 feet away on another amp playing Smoke On The Water. Some stoner is playing Smells Like Teen Spirit. Some pop-punk geek with orange chucks and a checkered wrist band is playing Brain Stew. I won’t even go in the acoustic room, for fear of the Christian folk jam out that is probably underway in there. Every gear head working there is day dreaming about their ideal full stack. It’s the perfect time to stick an $80 mic that’s on display in the ass of my boxer briefs and strings in the front. I don’t feel bad.
Why don’t I just support Mom and Pop? You know, Swamp Dog… 5th Avenue Fret Shop. I guess it’s American to buy corporate, cheap and without integrity. That extra two bucks for a new cable was probably just going to go to Taco Bell anyway. I should just quit Guitar Center, go to my locals.
Anyway, when I checked out, you didn’t even look at my receipt when you stamped it (All GCs have this check point before you leave). You didn’t even look in my bag. You didn’t call me dude. You did not call me anything. You looked right into my eyes and said, “Have a nice day” in the most unconvincing way I have ever heard. I said, “Only if you do first” with a tone to match your brutal sarcasm. You smirked and actually looked at me… I mean SAW me. I like your face. I like your auburn hair. You still have holes from a double labret piercing. You looked like the reformed goth type… you try to hide it but your black candle still burns. I hate my job too. I like that you aren’t afraid to show it. I’m a holey sneaker wearing, long hair, never gonna be a full timer type that wants to go to the record store at least once a week. I want to listen to Dinosaur JR and drive around with the windows down on nice days. There’s a goth dance nite at The Shrunken Head. You want to go? I look decent in black lip stick. I’ll dance even when I’m sober. What do you say?
Did you check me out when I checked out?