Care of Cell
New permit policy for selling and buying used CDs in retail stores.
Basically this is what I came back from vacation to find happening to my store -- or rather, I called that Saturday from Nags Head and Stacy told me what the scoop was. Two detectives came into the store looking for some background information on a possible stolen DVD thief and going through our records it was discovered that we didn't have these permits to buy and sell used product, so we had to put an immediate halt on all "buybacks" (as we call them) until each one of us gets their individual permit -- and yes, that's each person getting their own personal permit, not just the store.
I suppose in a sense it makes sense in some ways. You need a permit to have a yard sale and such as that. But at the same time what exactly does this do that taking the seller's name, ID, address and social security number on file doesn't already take care of? And this only seems to be cracking down on brick-and-mortar stores, since I don't see any of this applying to Amazon or eBay sellers. That is, if this new law is indeed really about curbing theft and fraud, as the article (and the two detectives in our store) imply.
Speaking of which, as a person who does a large majority of the buybacks in our store, I really am conflicted about the situation. Most of you know how much used product I buy. True, the artist doesn't see a lick of that money, but it is almost 100% profit for our store, which keeps our little business alive, and what with retail prices the way they are there is no way a lot of folks can either afford or are willing to shell out $18.99 average for a single disk CD. Not when we carry a used, hardly played copy for $9.99 at the most. And I admit, the thrill for me is being on the front lines for potential great, rare product that might come in which that the people selling it back might not know the value. I recently got another copy of the House Of Schock CD, which sometimes goes for a fat wad on eBay, for $7.99 used. Among other rarities (of relative value) have been the out-of-print Prince CDs The Gold Experience ($18, highly sought after for the underground dancefloor hit "P Control") and The Black Album ($25), plus soundtracks to Conan The Barbarian ($30), Ennio Morricone's The Thing ($60) and Argh! A Music War ($80). Stuff you just can't find anywhere. These days when they happen are few and far between, but when they do happen, it makes the hassle all worth worthwhile.
And a hassle it is. The downside is dealing with the customers... or as I prefer to think of them, the "merchants", because if they are coming to me with product to sell, that I am their customer, not the other way around. Still, most of them don't see it this way. Some of the worst confrontations in our store have been due to people who are furious that we didn't take every last piece of their scratched, jacked-up disks, or that we have too many copies of Spiderman in stock to take their 5 or 10 obviously stolen disks for cash. Actually most of the thieves steal box sets. DVD television series, mostly. We have these two cousins that come in every single Sunday with the same two dozen DVD box sets of the same TV series and wind up walking out with several hundred dollars in cash, and they pretend to be extremely nice and friendly until one day I announced that we just couldn't buy back their seven copies of the first season of House because we already had 20 copies on stock that weren't selling, and their false niceness turned into a poisonous row, on a dime. And then there was the man who I thought was going to jump over the register to throttle me because he had driven all the way from Nags Head to sell CDs for drug money and we didn't have any cash in our drawer yet at the early hour morning for the amount he wanted to sell back.
Yes, then there are, indeed, the drug fiends. The people who think that you are their personal bank. The ones who try and take product straight off the shelf and bring it up to you to sell. The "Ferguson Ring", a guy who would hide in the store and pretend to be a customer while sending several of his girls up to me one at a time to sell back boxes of obviously stolen DVD box sets, and then casually slip all of the money over to him. The daily dose of hostility. The threats. The tantrums. When a majority of these days are nothing but taking back mountains of crap like Wild Hogs and whatever hack hip-hop CD was last week's flavor of the month, sometimes it really doesn't seem worth the misery. Doing buybacks has made me the angry, impatient woman who doesn't suffer crackheads gladly anymore. I've lost all semblance of diplomacy I might have once been famous for, and having to deal with the same jerks day in and day out, taking back garage that nobody wants because they feel I owe it to them, for people who never even shop in our store anyway and just come in to hassle us for money -- every passing day I could feel that fire burning behind my eyes, and I'd bite my tongue and hold back my fury and come home every day emotionally exhausted and mentally pureed.
But when something good does come in. Wow, I can't decribe it. Only other music collectors know the feeling. Like holding the Hope Diamond in your hands, the one and only copy you have ever seen of something you have only just read about. And you're trying not to shake, to keep it cool. To not run victory laps around the store lofting the copy of the Creepshow soundtrack high above your head. Those are the days that make all the others seem like such faintly remembered bad dreams. Ahh, sweet, sweet valuable Creepshow soundtrack (actually that still has never come through our doors, but you never know, that day may come).
So I guess I'm not in any huge hurry to run down to City Hall and get my permit. And to be honest, nobody else is either, although two girls did get theirs already.
But at the same time. I kinda miss it. Or rather, I miss the possibilities. I miss the joy in something new. Something great. Something I could potentially sell on eBay to help pay the bills. Dag nabbit, I miss my endcap.
Basically this is what I came back from vacation to find happening to my store -- or rather, I called that Saturday from Nags Head and Stacy told me what the scoop was. Two detectives came into the store looking for some background information on a possible stolen DVD thief and going through our records it was discovered that we didn't have these permits to buy and sell used product, so we had to put an immediate halt on all "buybacks" (as we call them) until each one of us gets their individual permit -- and yes, that's each person getting their own personal permit, not just the store.
I suppose in a sense it makes sense in some ways. You need a permit to have a yard sale and such as that. But at the same time what exactly does this do that taking the seller's name, ID, address and social security number on file doesn't already take care of? And this only seems to be cracking down on brick-and-mortar stores, since I don't see any of this applying to Amazon or eBay sellers. That is, if this new law is indeed really about curbing theft and fraud, as the article (and the two detectives in our store) imply.
Speaking of which, as a person who does a large majority of the buybacks in our store, I really am conflicted about the situation. Most of you know how much used product I buy. True, the artist doesn't see a lick of that money, but it is almost 100% profit for our store, which keeps our little business alive, and what with retail prices the way they are there is no way a lot of folks can either afford or are willing to shell out $18.99 average for a single disk CD. Not when we carry a used, hardly played copy for $9.99 at the most. And I admit, the thrill for me is being on the front lines for potential great, rare product that might come in which that the people selling it back might not know the value. I recently got another copy of the House Of Schock CD, which sometimes goes for a fat wad on eBay, for $7.99 used. Among other rarities (of relative value) have been the out-of-print Prince CDs The Gold Experience ($18, highly sought after for the underground dancefloor hit "P Control") and The Black Album ($25), plus soundtracks to Conan The Barbarian ($30), Ennio Morricone's The Thing ($60) and Argh! A Music War ($80). Stuff you just can't find anywhere. These days when they happen are few and far between, but when they do happen, it makes the hassle all worth worthwhile.
And a hassle it is. The downside is dealing with the customers... or as I prefer to think of them, the "merchants", because if they are coming to me with product to sell, that I am their customer, not the other way around. Still, most of them don't see it this way. Some of the worst confrontations in our store have been due to people who are furious that we didn't take every last piece of their scratched, jacked-up disks, or that we have too many copies of Spiderman in stock to take their 5 or 10 obviously stolen disks for cash. Actually most of the thieves steal box sets. DVD television series, mostly. We have these two cousins that come in every single Sunday with the same two dozen DVD box sets of the same TV series and wind up walking out with several hundred dollars in cash, and they pretend to be extremely nice and friendly until one day I announced that we just couldn't buy back their seven copies of the first season of House because we already had 20 copies on stock that weren't selling, and their false niceness turned into a poisonous row, on a dime. And then there was the man who I thought was going to jump over the register to throttle me because he had driven all the way from Nags Head to sell CDs for drug money and we didn't have any cash in our drawer yet at the early hour morning for the amount he wanted to sell back.
Yes, then there are, indeed, the drug fiends. The people who think that you are their personal bank. The ones who try and take product straight off the shelf and bring it up to you to sell. The "Ferguson Ring", a guy who would hide in the store and pretend to be a customer while sending several of his girls up to me one at a time to sell back boxes of obviously stolen DVD box sets, and then casually slip all of the money over to him. The daily dose of hostility. The threats. The tantrums. When a majority of these days are nothing but taking back mountains of crap like Wild Hogs and whatever hack hip-hop CD was last week's flavor of the month, sometimes it really doesn't seem worth the misery. Doing buybacks has made me the angry, impatient woman who doesn't suffer crackheads gladly anymore. I've lost all semblance of diplomacy I might have once been famous for, and having to deal with the same jerks day in and day out, taking back garage that nobody wants because they feel I owe it to them, for people who never even shop in our store anyway and just come in to hassle us for money -- every passing day I could feel that fire burning behind my eyes, and I'd bite my tongue and hold back my fury and come home every day emotionally exhausted and mentally pureed.
But when something good does come in. Wow, I can't decribe it. Only other music collectors know the feeling. Like holding the Hope Diamond in your hands, the one and only copy you have ever seen of something you have only just read about. And you're trying not to shake, to keep it cool. To not run victory laps around the store lofting the copy of the Creepshow soundtrack high above your head. Those are the days that make all the others seem like such faintly remembered bad dreams. Ahh, sweet, sweet valuable Creepshow soundtrack (actually that still has never come through our doors, but you never know, that day may come).
So I guess I'm not in any huge hurry to run down to City Hall and get my permit. And to be honest, nobody else is either, although two girls did get theirs already.
But at the same time. I kinda miss it. Or rather, I miss the possibilities. I miss the joy in something new. Something great. Something I could potentially sell on eBay to help pay the bills. Dag nabbit, I miss my endcap.
posted by Melissa at 10:28 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home