The following is the first installment of Retail Junkie Superstar, which will be published in the August edition of Vermont Sports.
Last Saturday at the bike shop was like one of the summer thunderstorms that have been passing through our area, spoiling our barbeques and softball games, seemingly every day since the snow went away. It hasn’t been the rainiest June on record, but the frequency of rainstorms is certainly worthy of recollection for years to come. I know I’ll be telling my grandkids about all this rain someday, and I’m almost positive they won’t care at all.
The day started peaceful enough, with a “hey, maybe it won’t get crazy today” calm. But a slow build-up of activity, like heavy rain clouds filling a clear blue sky, eventually climaxed into a full-on tempest, with thunder and hail, that left in its aftermath a shop in disarray and exasperated salespeople scattered about like blown over lawn ornaments.
Five or ten minutes before we opened there was a person out front pulling at the locked door (one), before squinting at the hours of operation sign (two), and then quickly glancing at the wristwatch (three). We call it the old one-two-three, as in, “There’s some guy out front doing the one-two-three. Should we let him in?” On this particular morning, we were all in good spirits so we flipped the sign from closed to open, let our friend in, and rolled down the awnings. It was so very calm, and it lasted throughout the morning, during which time we were able to catch up with the latest adventures in the lives of our fellow coworkers.
“So, what happened after we left Land Beaver’s party last night? How did Jesus H. end up with that contusion on his head?”
“Well, H. and I thought it would be a good idea to throw chairs at each other.”
“For real Bart? You mean those folding chairs that we were sitting on? And you actually launched one at H.’s head? Isn’t that kind of dangerous? You’re lucky you didn’t knock his eye out. Poor guy.”
“It’s his own fault. He brought his B-game to a chair fight.”
The funny thing, aside from the image of two people throwing chairs at one another, is that Jesus H. and Bart are two very smart, educated people. In fact, only a short time ago, H. was sitting in a folding chair during his commencement ceremony before standing up, walking towards the stage and accepting his master’s degree in English. Now he was walking around with a dent in his head caused by an airborne folding chair. Only a short time ago, he had written a thesis and everything.
Around noontime, like the first raindrops, customers began to appear, and then multiply. One needed to buy a helmet. Another wanted a BPA free waterbottle. A guy needed to be fitted to a road bike he bought on Ebay that was way too big and a gal needed to be fitted for a road bike before she bought one on Ebay that was way too big. And a regular customer of ours simply needed some major work done as soon as possible. When asked, “How does Wednesday or Thursday of next week sound,” the reply was, “Any chance you can have it ready this afternoon?”
Over the course of my bike shop tenure, I’ve gotten myself into trouble many times trying to be a hero, and this was the perfect opportunity to do exactly that, so naturally, I said, “No problem.” Like recommending a new saddle to a customer who thinks that riding a bike should be as comfortable as sitting in a sofa, I wanted to be a miracle worker and I was convinced that this was going to be an easy job and that it would even be fun. All I had to do was simply pull a drivetrain and then simply slap a new one on.
It started out smooth enough. In fact, I was already more than halfway through putting his bike in the stand before a customer needed my assistance buying a pair of 27” tires for his Scwinn Varsity that he had dragged out of the barn. He was going to commute to work on the thing.
And so it went for the rest of the day, but despite countless interruptions and unexpected hurtles, I managed to finish the bike and be a hero once again. Did I have fun doing it? Yes, but not as much fun as being hit in the head with a folding chair.
The day started peaceful enough, with a “hey, maybe it won’t get crazy today” calm. But a slow build-up of activity, like heavy rain clouds filling a clear blue sky, eventually climaxed into a full-on tempest, with thunder and hail, that left in its aftermath a shop in disarray and exasperated salespeople scattered about like blown over lawn ornaments.
Five or ten minutes before we opened there was a person out front pulling at the locked door (one), before squinting at the hours of operation sign (two), and then quickly glancing at the wristwatch (three). We call it the old one-two-three, as in, “There’s some guy out front doing the one-two-three. Should we let him in?” On this particular morning, we were all in good spirits so we flipped the sign from closed to open, let our friend in, and rolled down the awnings. It was so very calm, and it lasted throughout the morning, during which time we were able to catch up with the latest adventures in the lives of our fellow coworkers.
“So, what happened after we left Land Beaver’s party last night? How did Jesus H. end up with that contusion on his head?”
“Well, H. and I thought it would be a good idea to throw chairs at each other.”
“For real Bart? You mean those folding chairs that we were sitting on? And you actually launched one at H.’s head? Isn’t that kind of dangerous? You’re lucky you didn’t knock his eye out. Poor guy.”
“It’s his own fault. He brought his B-game to a chair fight.”
The funny thing, aside from the image of two people throwing chairs at one another, is that Jesus H. and Bart are two very smart, educated people. In fact, only a short time ago, H. was sitting in a folding chair during his commencement ceremony before standing up, walking towards the stage and accepting his master’s degree in English. Now he was walking around with a dent in his head caused by an airborne folding chair. Only a short time ago, he had written a thesis and everything.
Around noontime, like the first raindrops, customers began to appear, and then multiply. One needed to buy a helmet. Another wanted a BPA free waterbottle. A guy needed to be fitted to a road bike he bought on Ebay that was way too big and a gal needed to be fitted for a road bike before she bought one on Ebay that was way too big. And a regular customer of ours simply needed some major work done as soon as possible. When asked, “How does Wednesday or Thursday of next week sound,” the reply was, “Any chance you can have it ready this afternoon?”
Over the course of my bike shop tenure, I’ve gotten myself into trouble many times trying to be a hero, and this was the perfect opportunity to do exactly that, so naturally, I said, “No problem.” Like recommending a new saddle to a customer who thinks that riding a bike should be as comfortable as sitting in a sofa, I wanted to be a miracle worker and I was convinced that this was going to be an easy job and that it would even be fun. All I had to do was simply pull a drivetrain and then simply slap a new one on.
It started out smooth enough. In fact, I was already more than halfway through putting his bike in the stand before a customer needed my assistance buying a pair of 27” tires for his Scwinn Varsity that he had dragged out of the barn. He was going to commute to work on the thing.
And so it went for the rest of the day, but despite countless interruptions and unexpected hurtles, I managed to finish the bike and be a hero once again. Did I have fun doing it? Yes, but not as much fun as being hit in the head with a folding chair.
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