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First post
Some background on me...sold shoes and managed shoe stores all thru the 80,s (Kinney Shoes, now defunct). Still in retail but now in the corporate end (planning).
After being an AM for a few years was assigned my first store in.....Compton, Ca.
If you are not familiar with Compton it is the gang member capital of the world. It was a roadside store that sat on the street that separated the Crip territory from the Blood territory. Hence I had an armed guard in my store whenever open. This was quite a culture shock for a relatively innocent fat blond white guy from the beach suburbs. The only white guy ever to run the store (this store burned down in the Rodney King riots. Near where that truck driver took a boot to the head that everyone at that time saw on TV newscasts. I was gone for 7 years by that time). btw, my armed guard was an ex-El Salvadorian police officer who spoke broken english, but at least was able to teach me a few words that would help me sell shoes to my spanish speaking customers. I treated everyone well and for the most part was treated well back by my customers. I don't have any anti-racial bias (as I was and still am one of those "I love everybody" kind of guys), I'm just trying to paint a mental picture for you guys. You treat people with respect and they'll do the same for you and that's the way it was.
OK, sorry for the rambling backstory.
On a quiet morning there's 1 customer with her 3 year old trying on shoes, my guard (known as "TV"...his initials) my morning salesperson and me doing nothing behind the counter.
I guy comes in asking for an application and as he's filling it out I'm talking the company up. As a manager if you hire a quality salesperson who can move up the chain and be transferred to higher volume locations its a feather in your cap.
AP = application dude
Me
AP: I just flew in from Detroit, someone shot my friend and I'm here to check it out.
Me: Ok.....(not what you expect to hear from someone filling out an app.)
AP: They call me Axle Foley...
Me: (thinking "that name sound familiar")
AP: but my real name is Reggie Hammond.
Me: (bells go off. 2+2 = crazy. This dude thinks he's Eddie Murphy. From multiple Eddeie Murphy movies. Beverly Hills cop AND 48 Hours. Except its real life to him).
This is my first experience with confirmed crazy and it does shake me a bit. I gently make my way across the salesfloor to go hide in the stockroom. As I'm walking away AP waves a crumpled piece of paper at me and asks urgently:
AP: Do you know where I can get this prescription filled?
Me: I don't know, try down the street (just go away confirmed crazy dude who should be shot full of whatever psychotic drug you obviously have not taken for awhile)
AP follows me as I uncomfortably make my way to my perceived safety of the stockroom. But if he follows me there, safety no more. So I subtly make a head gesture to TV that in my mind says "Please escort this gentleman to the exit". Of course to TV words are difficult, so he walks toward AP and mutely pats the holster of whatever firearm is hanging off his hip. And of course AP's response is:
AP: I've got a gun!!!
Me: (instant sphincter pucker).
Huge lady with child trying on shoes screams: "Lawdy oh my baby!!! (I felt that was the more appropriate response.)
Eddie Murphy wannabe did not pull out a gun (if he did it would shoot blanks following the "I think I'm in a movie scenario") and quietly left. At least I think he quietly left, as I was busy cowering in the stockroom wondering if I would ever go #2 again (referring to my puckered sphincter).
***Well, there's my first post. I'll post more memories if you guys like this one.***
Some background on me...sold shoes and managed shoe stores all thru the 80,s (Kinney Shoes, now defunct). Still in retail but now in the corporate end (planning).
After being an AM for a few years was assigned my first store in.....Compton, Ca.
If you are not familiar with Compton it is the gang member capital of the world. It was a roadside store that sat on the street that separated the Crip territory from the Blood territory. Hence I had an armed guard in my store whenever open. This was quite a culture shock for a relatively innocent fat blond white guy from the beach suburbs. The only white guy ever to run the store (this store burned down in the Rodney King riots. Near where that truck driver took a boot to the head that everyone at that time saw on TV newscasts. I was gone for 7 years by that time). btw, my armed guard was an ex-El Salvadorian police officer who spoke broken english, but at least was able to teach me a few words that would help me sell shoes to my spanish speaking customers. I treated everyone well and for the most part was treated well back by my customers. I don't have any anti-racial bias (as I was and still am one of those "I love everybody" kind of guys), I'm just trying to paint a mental picture for you guys. You treat people with respect and they'll do the same for you and that's the way it was.
OK, sorry for the rambling backstory.
On a quiet morning there's 1 customer with her 3 year old trying on shoes, my guard (known as "TV"...his initials) my morning salesperson and me doing nothing behind the counter.
I guy comes in asking for an application and as he's filling it out I'm talking the company up. As a manager if you hire a quality salesperson who can move up the chain and be transferred to higher volume locations its a feather in your cap.
AP = application dude
Me
AP: I just flew in from Detroit, someone shot my friend and I'm here to check it out.
Me: Ok.....(not what you expect to hear from someone filling out an app.)
AP: They call me Axle Foley...
Me: (thinking "that name sound familiar")
AP: but my real name is Reggie Hammond.
Me: (bells go off. 2+2 = crazy. This dude thinks he's Eddie Murphy. From multiple Eddeie Murphy movies. Beverly Hills cop AND 48 Hours. Except its real life to him).
This is my first experience with confirmed crazy and it does shake me a bit. I gently make my way across the salesfloor to go hide in the stockroom. As I'm walking away AP waves a crumpled piece of paper at me and asks urgently:
AP: Do you know where I can get this prescription filled?
Me: I don't know, try down the street (just go away confirmed crazy dude who should be shot full of whatever psychotic drug you obviously have not taken for awhile)
AP follows me as I uncomfortably make my way to my perceived safety of the stockroom. But if he follows me there, safety no more. So I subtly make a head gesture to TV that in my mind says "Please escort this gentleman to the exit". Of course to TV words are difficult, so he walks toward AP and mutely pats the holster of whatever firearm is hanging off his hip. And of course AP's response is:
AP: I've got a gun!!!
Me: (instant sphincter pucker).
Huge lady with child trying on shoes screams: "Lawdy oh my baby!!! (I felt that was the more appropriate response.)
Eddie Murphy wannabe did not pull out a gun (if he did it would shoot blanks following the "I think I'm in a movie scenario") and quietly left. At least I think he quietly left, as I was busy cowering in the stockroom wondering if I would ever go #2 again (referring to my puckered sphincter).
***Well, there's my first post. I'll post more memories if you guys like this one.***
EQ will be around with cookies once she gets settled from her move. Jester is the libations expert, and resident psycho--er--psychotherapist, and there's lots of 
tucked around just about every corner. Stock up, you'll need it!
And I'm eager to hear more!
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