The_Q said:
I think you have the wrong person Dave. I don't annoy anyone while they're shopping. I suggest things, and if thats annoying to people then they shouldn't ask me.
I have personally experienced this.
A few years back I was big into collecting everything from American Girl. Actually, I wasn't, but the wife and kids were. Sometime in the early part of the century we finally reached the crowning achievement - we owned everything available from their catalogs. Life was good. And then Satan visited us. He was in the form of an eight year old girl who had just returned from the American Girl store in Chicago with a doll that was not in the catalog. She informed us that the store was filled with all kinds of stuff not in the catalog. Naturally, a trip to Chicago was planned immediately to fill this void in our lives. I agreed to go to do the driving as long as we could make a pit stop in Kendallville, IN for me to visit Dream Disc.
So off we went to Chicago. We tried going to some museums and the pier, but the daughters were like - where's the fucking dolls already? The wife had made reservations to see a play at the theater located inside the store so we had to go on a particular day. I'm pretty sure it involved Hilary Duff. Chicago was much hated for the two days in which we had to kill time. When we went to the store, we were greeted by the manager. She welcomed us to the store and asked if we had ever been there before. I said no - we didn't need to - since we already owned two of everything in their catalogs. She laughed in a demonic voice and told us that the store had more stuff. She too was possessed. I asked if their customer information system kept track of previous orders. She said yes. I handed her my credit card and told her to just give us two of everything we didn't already own. I was looking to save time. The wife and girls thought this was a very helpful idea. No one understands sarcasm anymore.
I had to stick around long enough to carry the first few loads back out to the car. After that I went shopping at the Virgin Music store down the street to kill some time. They had nothing, so I only spent about $300. I was getting annoyed about the wait for Dream Disc. I was as bad as the kids.
It was decided that the next day could not involve any more boring museum-like or tall-building like tourist attractions. Since we were way out in the suburbs with the white people, the wife decided it was necessary to go shop at a mall exactly like the one we had back home. Not much fun for me. I looked at the map to find Woodfield. My keen knowledge of the city made it clear to me that I would be fairly close to Impulse. Since my last dealing with them was in 1995 when they lost my order for four months only to fill it three times over when I called to remind them about it, I decided that I could forgive them long enough to shop for a couple of hours while the wife and kids purchased everything available at the Rainforest Cafe since we don't have any of those in Columbus. So I drove over to the store.
The wife who had dropped two grand on doll crap the day before told me not to overdo it. I asked for clarification. She said $200. I said OK. I took a city street from the mall to Impulse and caught every single light between them red. I was annoyed before I even found the place - which was difficult because it was little hole-in-the-wall store in a hole-in-the-wall strip shopping center. Which always bodes well. The store was completely filled wall to wall with music that I already had or that I wasn't really interested in. Naturally, I had no problems finding a bunch of crap to buy. I wasn't annoyed by the dude at any time during my browsing. When I took my big pile of junk up to the register the dude asked - Anything else? I said - phased-plasma rifle in the forty watt range. He told me - Hey, just what you see, pal. Then he said - so which willl it be? I answered - all. He said - I think I'll close early today. Oops, wrong story.
There was some kind of special or something that wasn't marked or else they just sucked as bad at math as they did mail order because the total came in slightly below by budgeted amount. I pointed it out and asked him to double check. He did. He came up with a lower number the second time and seemed quite pleased about me catching his error. I was tempted to roll the dice a third time. I told him that I really needed to spend another 30 bucks but didn't know what to get. He asked what I liked. I told him to take a look at what I bought. He did. It didn't help. There was no discernable pattern. He was confused. Then he asked me if I had any Gotthard. I told him I wasn't gay. He made me buy two of their albums anyway. They ended up being good selections. Not good enough to turn me into some kind of Harvestfreak and start buying all the limited edition bonus japan only christmas singles or anything. You should see his Gotthard list. What a stud.
Anyway, my experience with Impulse was quite satisfactory. In another ten years, I'll be ready to try them for mail order again, ha ha.
Since I left a dangling thread that is bothering you all to no end - let me tell you about the trip to Dream Disc. I deposited the wife and kids at a random mall in Fort Wayne and drove to Kendallville. Dream Disc was another hole-in-the-wall store in a hole-in-the-wall strip shopping center on the main drag in town. It was 1:30 in the afternoon, but they were closed. I forgot I was in the no daylight savings time zone, so it was actually lunch time. I waited around for a while until they reopened. I went in and met Hans and Franz. That's who Brent and Brian looked like. Two brawny Manowar fans. It was quite funny. I told them who I was. They grabbed my previous order off the wall along with a stack of stuff that they thought I would also like. I grabbed a handful of additional crap from the new arrival shelf including the wrong version of Devin Townsend's Christeen single which still annoys me today but not enough to make me buy the right one. I picked up every used disc they had that I didn't own. They offered me a chance to look through their extensive bootleg offerings. I declined. I recognized DC Cooper on the store stereo, but didn't know the song. I asked if it was something new. He told me it was actually something quite old. I asked for one of those. They told me no. I asked them how awesome it was to listen to that stuff all day. Then they dropped the bomb. They told me that they didn't like any of the music. They only listened to it to provide reviews for people in their catalog. Suddenly, all those dumb ass descriptions in their catalogs all those years made perfect sense. Shocked, I asked them what kind of music they liked. They both said none. The one dude (who can tell them apart anyway) said that he was big into old cartoon videos and had a roomful of bootlegged video tapes. It was so sad. I felt sorry for them. So I took out my phased-plasma rifle in the forty watt range and shot them both the fuck dead. I stole the DC Cooper tape and flipped the sign on the window to "Closed" on my way out, and that's why you've never heard of them again. True story. All of it.
The moral is this: Impulse is TROO. Dream Disc were posers.
Joe