Epilogue on this adventure:
Shop #1: Special ordered TZ#2 over 6 weeks ago. Never heard back, so I drove to the store the other day ... and they had 5 copies! I didn't say anything -- just grabbed it and started to check out.
THEM: Oh, you like Twilight Zone?
ME: Yes. I actually special ordered this from you, but no one ever called me to let me know it was here.
THEM: Oh yeah -- we forget all the time.
ME: Could you put me on the list to get a call when TZ#3 comes out?
THEM: Sure. Just give us your name, address, phone number, next of kin, first grade teach--
ME: Whoa ... can't you just reuse my info from last time?
THEM: No, we lose that info all the time. Better to just get all your info for each order.
ME: Oooookay .... I'll just check back later ...
Shop #2: Special ordered Ten Grand #2. It was supposed to arrive last Monday. Went in on Tuesday and ... (imagine stoner voice here) "Oh yeah ... I forgot to order that, dude. Come back next week?"
So, I go in yesterday, and they have it! Holy crap -- they have it! And here's the hilarious part. There's a label with my name on it ... taped to the front cover with super-cheap, residue-leaving, paper-tearing bulk scotch tape. 4 pieces. Not "Magic Tape" or "Gift Wrap Tape" -- industrial-grade junk tape. So a battle begins between the hipster girl at the counter and this clear duct tape. Lots of pulling and grunting as the cover bends and warps and tears until finally, mercifully, she liberates the TPB from its straight-jacket of tape and expects me to now pay for it. I decided not to make a big deal out of it and just bought it and left, but it was shocking to observe. I wish I had been recording it. This is a business that caters to a mint-in-box, certified grading crowd, and here she is mangling the crap out of my book before my eyes.
Anyway, this is my epilogue, because I won't set foot in either store again.
Shop #1: Special ordered TZ#2 over 6 weeks ago. Never heard back, so I drove to the store the other day ... and they had 5 copies! I didn't say anything -- just grabbed it and started to check out.
THEM: Oh, you like Twilight Zone?
ME: Yes. I actually special ordered this from you, but no one ever called me to let me know it was here.
THEM: Oh yeah -- we forget all the time.
ME: Could you put me on the list to get a call when TZ#3 comes out?
THEM: Sure. Just give us your name, address, phone number, next of kin, first grade teach--
ME: Whoa ... can't you just reuse my info from last time?
THEM: No, we lose that info all the time. Better to just get all your info for each order.
ME: Oooookay .... I'll just check back later ...
Shop #2: Special ordered Ten Grand #2. It was supposed to arrive last Monday. Went in on Tuesday and ... (imagine stoner voice here) "Oh yeah ... I forgot to order that, dude. Come back next week?"
So, I go in yesterday, and they have it! Holy crap -- they have it! And here's the hilarious part. There's a label with my name on it ... taped to the front cover with super-cheap, residue-leaving, paper-tearing bulk scotch tape. 4 pieces. Not "Magic Tape" or "Gift Wrap Tape" -- industrial-grade junk tape. So a battle begins between the hipster girl at the counter and this clear duct tape. Lots of pulling and grunting as the cover bends and warps and tears until finally, mercifully, she liberates the TPB from its straight-jacket of tape and expects me to now pay for it. I decided not to make a big deal out of it and just bought it and left, but it was shocking to observe. I wish I had been recording it. This is a business that caters to a mint-in-box, certified grading crowd, and here she is mangling the crap out of my book before my eyes.
Anyway, this is my epilogue, because I won't set foot in either store again.

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