Selling Out: Unloading Some CDs At FYE

No matter who you are, everyone agrees that times are tough these days. No one can agree if this is like a recession or like a depression. Or those really pessimistic guys, who think this is like Bangladesh.

But, economically, it's just brutal.

I, myself, am feeling the pinch as well. So the other day, I took a bunch of CDs to sell at the FYE store at Kohl's. I figured they'd either give me a few bucks, or trade me all of my discs for a Woody Guthrie album. The way things are going, I'll need to learn some of those dustbowl tunes, when I ride the rails looking for work.

I must have brought about 20 discs in all, although I can't say any of them were truly great. Unless your favorite record happens to be "Pat Boone: In A Metal Mood." Which means I'd be afraid to ask you about your second favorite album. Still, I had some solid stuff and hoped to make enough to money to then go down the street and eat at McDonald's. As long as I ordered carefully and supplied my own generic beverage once I got home. Hey, despite what anyone says, Bill and Ed's Soda is not half bad.

The guy at the counter, a short, nondescript salesman type, took my stack and began to tell me what they were worth. Herein, lay a problem. Now, I don't know if you've been in FYE lately, but there is one serious impediment there, that has a profoundly chilling effect on communication. Whoever is in charge of the store's music, always puts on gangsta rap so loud and ominous, you have to sign every question and response. Plus, you feel like, at any minute, you're about to get hit in a drive-by.

So, the counter guy could be saying anything from "This is worth two bucks," to "We're not only giving you a pittance, we're also going to report this as earnings to the IRS."

And, idiot that you are, you smile and nod "yes!"

So, he counted, this fellow. He made three stacks for my CDs. A Yes pile, a No pile and one exclusively for Pat Boone. A record for which I would either receive a lot of money, or be beaten into submission by somebody who knows Mixed Martial Arts.

As he did, I combed the store, looking at DVDs, magazines and headphones.

Perhaps the worst disappointment of the day had to do with promos.

Writing about music, you tend to get weird stuff in the mail from record companies, that you don't want to keep. Hey, you don't even want to put in your CD player, for fear that it may spread the H1N1 virus. I mean bands I truly loathe, like Rush, Styx and anyone else who has a lead singer who sounds like he's still wearing jockey shorts from when he was 15. Apparently, FYE doesn't buy these promos. They are "illegal" in some quarters and store employees feel that you're not selling records when you hand them over, you're conducting a sting.

After 20 minutes of this torture, the verdict was handed down. I was offered the princely sum of $15 in cash or $28 in 'trade.' Or, I think, one free night in an SRO.

I decided to go with the trade option. I had my reasons. Even though it meant I'd probably have to have a Zagnut for dinner. But I had great incentive. The 20th Anniversary of Nirvana's "Nevermind," was out and not 5 feet away from me. A deluxe package with the original album, B-sides and other delights. So, we made the exchange, my pile of so-so records for one great one. I figured if Kurt could see me, he'd be proud and think my priorities were sound. Even if it meant more money for Courtney Love.

So out I walked, in the opposite direction of McDonald's. Yes, I think I made the right choice. Rock and roll will always win over fast food. Even if sometimes, you can't tell the difference. Like with Def Leppard. But still, the Golden Arches were sort of beckoning. And you know? There didn't seem to be any point in pushing my luck.