Losing my job with the record company was a devastating
blow. I never even considered that I wouldn't be with this company for my entire life, especially after all I’d put
into it. It was probably the second
lowest point of my entire life. (I
wrote about the lowest point a couple years ago.)
Now, my top priority was to find another office job,
preferably within the music business. I
still had a lot of contacts, so I began my job search optimistically. My first order of business was to retrieve
evidence of my skills and general.
I went in on Saturday to clean out my desk. I was there for about 15 minutes before our
top Loss Prevention Officer, whom I’d known and worked with for the previous
nine years, came in to monitor what I was doing.
Besides collecting the things I’d brought in with me, I was
hoping to take some documents that showed my work. Unfortunately, the LP guy had other ideas and kiboshed it…
something about “proprietary information.”
I was pretty disappointed. It wasn't like I wanted to sell our secrets to the competitor; I just
wanted to show what I’d been doing for the last few years. I tried to explain that I just wanted to get a new job, but he was unmoved. In
retrospect, I can’t say that I blame him. I should have offered to scrub the real data out of the documents, but I wasn't thinking all that clearly and was under a great deal of duress. Luckily, I had brought home my Rolodex cards
on the day I was canned.
Kids, this is a Rolodex.
Back in the Olden Days, it’s where you kept all your phone numbers and
business cards.
As I went through my contacts list, I quickly realized that
they weren't going to do me nearly as much good as I’d hoped. The reason for that was that none of my
business contacts were located in my area and I was newly married to someone
who’d worked 20 years for with the State of New York.
If I was single, I could have gotten a job with any of the
One Stops I worked with, in Miami, Chicago, Cincinnati, or Baltimore. Hell, I even had a firm job offer from a
former co-worker, who worked for a record distributor in
Sacramento. But I couldn't pursue any of
them because the wife wasn't going anywhere. That long tenure with the state meant a major pension and damn-near
eternal job stability. She was not giving that up, and I couldn't blame her.
One of my label salesman friends said he could get me a job
as a “rack jobber.” That’s a guy that
goes store-to-store setting up and maintaining product displays for a
vendor. That might have been worth a
look, but the territory spanned across upstate New York. I’d basically be living on the road and that didn't appeal to me (or the wife). The bottom line, I’d have to look locally.
The bad news was that my old company was the biggest fish in
town and there weren't many other music industry businesses around. There was a One Stop in town, and I did have a good friend who worked there, but my company had never done business with
them. There was some kind of situation
between the two CEOs. I got an
interview, but despite the recommendation of my friend, and despite my playing
on their softball team, I never got another sniff. The odds of my landing another office job seemed nil.
The wife wanted me to go back to school and study for a
specific trade, like becoming a pharmacist’s assistant (her dad was a
pharmacist) or an occupational therapist, (a profession she licensed with the
State). She even said she’d pay for my
schooling, but I had no interest in doing either of those things. I said without a burning interest in a
particular career, I couldn't let her spend that kind of money on me. (I thought I was doing her a favor,
nevertheless, she held that against me for the rest of our time together.)
Unable to land a new office job, I started looking for a
decent retail job. I found that my old
company’s top competitor was opening a “Big Box” store in town, so I applied
there. The basis for this store was
simple: it was to be a combination of four distinct stores under one roof. It would contain a huge record store, akin
to the Virgin Superstores, a large bookstore, akin to a Borders or Barnes and
Noble, and giant sell-through movie and computer software departments. They had a snack area and a common spot
where authors could do readings and bands could perform.
They had just opened when I applied to manage their record
department. (And yes, I still call it a
“record” department, even though there were no LPs. They sold CDs, cassettes, various accessories, sheet music, and
the like.) They hired me almost
instantly and once I dug in, I could see why. No one there knew what the hell they were doing. There was no one on staff with any record
business background at all.
I had to go in there, relay the store (alphabetizing was
only an afterthought there), clean out the back room, and properly train the staff. I dug into my Rolodex contacts and got the store
on the list to receive promotional CDs and posters, and had some of my old
salesman pals come by to help us out.
They saw the value I brought to the table, so a month or two
later when work was to begin on opening a second location, they asked me to
transfer over to set up and manage the record department.
I jumped at the chance. They did things the hard way at the first store and it took considerable
time and effort to get things fixed. At
the new store, I’d see that things got done right from the
outset. We had a large pool of temp
employees to do the opening setup, from whom I would pick the ones I
wanted to stay on in my department. That way, I got to train them properly, from day one, on how I wanted
things done. Life is so much easier
when you don’t have to make people unlearn bad habits from an earlier time.
The opening went well. I had a steady stream of promo stuff coming in, so that we didn't need to open
as much sellable product to play, and I also had lines out to invite bands to come
and play. I had good people working for
me and aside from a little sniping from the book department nerds about our
music; things went along just fine. Their goal for my department was to make up 40% of the store’s overall
sales. I was making 45% (and yes, I always
knew my numbers).
After opening in the fall, we tore through the Christmas season and then conducted our first physical
inventory in May. That’s when you have
a service come in overnight and do a count of everything in the store. These can be fairly chaotic, especially if
you’re not well organized. I was there
long into the night, answering questions and making sure everything got properly tallied.
I was happy when I came in to work the next day. As I was setting up for the day, the manager
asked me to come with her in to see the DM. I figured they wanted to say thank you for such a smooth inventory. Instead, I got laid off again.
I should have seen it coming earlier in the week when the
DM asked me to write down all my label contacts for him. Motherfucker. Stupid me, I did it happily, eager to show off the depth of my
network. (The next week, I called
everyone on it to tell them I wasn't there anymore, so don’t do them any
favors on my account.)
Again, because of an overall downturn in business, they were
cutting salaries and revamping the entire management structure. I had driven a pretty hard bargain when they
first hired me so I’m sure I looked like a ripe target. Perhaps I made things look so easy, they
thought anyone could run the music department. They also let a couple other people go, including the personnel
manager.
It was almost one year, to the day, from when I’d gotten the
ax from my previous job. This time
around, I wasn't shocked as much as I was pissed off. When the DM stuck out his hand and offered me “good luck,” I told
him to “get bent,” turned on my heel, and walked out. As I left with the manager, she said, “I guess this means
those bands won’t be playing here.”
Yeah, that was a pretty good bet. I felt bad for her… I could see by the look on her face,
throughout the ordeal, that this wasn't her idea. We always got on well. But I think she liked my scene with the DM, because word of it leaked
out. (I’m pretty sure the DM didn't say
anything.) I was at a hockey game a year or so later and ran into a couple of people who worked for me there, and the first thing
they said was, “Did you really tell the DM to get bent?”
Fuck yeah, I did. I
went out like a mouse the first time; I wasn't going to do it a second
time. But here I was again, jobless and
on the outside looking in.
Coming next: Starting over again…
5 comments:
Ugh, that is so crappy. They let you do all the hard work then kicked you to the curb. Good for you for telling them off and calling your contacts. I hope they regretted that decision for a very long time.
I got my revenge... The store closed within a year. But yeah, I was pretty pissed that they had be in there late, doing the inventory when they knew they were cutting me loose. That's just dirty pool.
"Yeah, we're canning him, but lets get him do handle this giant shitpile first."
The only good thing about getting canned is enjoying the process of watching the old company descend into failure.
I’ve gotten that in spades, it seems, from every place that ever canned me.
Crappy gas station from Retail Bluz Pt 1? Closed within a year of my leaving.
Record store chain I started with? Stock plunged, number of stores and employees slashed. Between Amazon.com and music downloads, their business is obsolete.
Big Box stores I worked for? Both closed within a year of my departure.
Mortgage company I worked for immediately upon moving to Baltimore (who let me go by the end of my probationary period)? Whole organization bankrupt within 2 years.
So I guess I’ve gotten out just in time, one step ahead of the law… The lesson should be clear… never fire the bluzdude.
(Side Note: I’m glad my buddy Vinnie was able to get out, and is now happily retired to Las Vegas, the perfect place for a guy with his connections. At least I think he’s retired…)
Beware the Bluz curse.
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