Sometime back between 1987 and 1989 I was working as an assistant manager at a Miller’s Outpost. I had been working as one of the managers at Musicland and then Sam Goody’s Musicland for a couple of years and I thought I was making a great career move by interviewing at a place called CD Warehouse in Studio City. The CD format was fairly new and I thought I’d hop over to a specialty shop that didn’t stock cassettes or vinyl and I’d have job security at a cutting edge shop. After working at CD Warehouse for less than a month I was driving to work one day and right off the freeway the truck I was driving (my dad’s) died. The engine conked. I got out ran to a pay phone and called my dad and as we’re talking the police show up and start to impound the truck. Then I call the owner and manager of CD Warehouse to let them know I’m stranded two miles from the shop and I’m trying to work things out. By the time my dad arrives to get to me the truck is gone. He’s pissed. We go home and he calls the owner to apologize on my behalf and asks him not to fire me. My dad talks for a while, and then he passes me the phone, the owner wants to talk to me. My dad whispers that everything was cool; I wasn’t going to be fired. Cool. I pick up the phone and the guy says that I “obviously has no regard for my co-workers,” otherwise I would’ve found a way to get to work. And my final check would be mailed to me. Wow. Again, my dad is a bit pissed at being lied to. So I was out of work for a couple of weeks. Now normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, but being out of work and living with my dad is like trying to illegally cross the border into Iran to go mountain climbing. There will be a few repercussions. There was nothing more unmanly to my father than a guy being unemployed. You would have to do double the amount of household chores and on some occasions take on the cooking of meals, and last but not least picking up and dropping off his two bad-ass daughters. So, between shipping his monsters to and from school, I was interviewing like crazy. I did an interview with the district manager from Miller’s Outpost named Mike Lasheen or Glasheen or something in that neck of the woods. Nice guy and based on my previous retail experience, he liked me. I started that weekend at their Sherman Oaks location in the world famous Sherman Oaks Galleria. I would work there for two weeks to train, then I would transfer to their stand-alone store in Tarzana. I blow through the two weeks and transfer to Tarzana. Other than the weekends the store was a ghost town. I was bored out of my mind. The only thing that broke up the days was the occasional celebrity sightings. Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear came in one day, he was cool as hell, and she was a bit reserved. Pat Sajak came in and bought about a dozen or so pairs of corduroy pants (why?) And was fairly unpleasant. Now, I told you all of that to tell you all of this . . . of all the people I met in the so-called celebrity world, the coolest person I ever came across was Eddie Money. I was working an early Saturday shift with an older Armenian lady named Ellen. Ellen spent many years as a mother and a housewife. For whatever reason, she decided to get a job and didn’t care for anyone younger than herself. She would come to me to rat out the store manager and then go to the manager to complain about me. So just as I was finished counting out a cash register Ellen came to me and said that she needed help watching a “peculiar long-haired customer.” It seems that a customer came in tried a pair of black Levi’s 501’s and left his shoes and the pants he was wearing when he came in wearing in the dressing room. So he’s walking around wearing the black pants with the sensors on them looking for a matching shirt. Ellen found this odd and suspicious. So to humor her I walked up to him and as soon as I approached him I recognized him. Mr. Take Me Home Tonight, Eddie Money. So I walk up to him and shake his hand and say “How can I help you today Mr. Money?” He leans in and says “that lady over there has been following me since I got here,” and points over to Ellen. I look over at her and she’s scowling, as if Eddie Money and me are in cahoots. We get to talk and I mention how much I like the song Take Me Home Tonight. I think it’s a great rock song. He says he likes it too, but he was a little disappointed that it didn’t rejuvenate Ronnie Spector’s career in the way Bruce Springsteen was able to jump-start Gary U.S. Bond’s career. Anyway, I mention I have the album in the car on cassette and the CD at home. Then he says after he finds his shirt we are going to the Irvine Meadows together. He’s got a show in two hours and I can hang out on the side of the stage. Sounds cool, but I tell him I have to work until 6:00. He looks bummed, and says he goes on at 3:00. It’s a multi - artist show for KIIS-FM, hosted by Rick Dees. And he can’t postpone the show. I thank him and say maybe some other time. He finds a shirt I take his stuff, take the sensor off the pants (he wants to wear them out) and ring him up. He hands over his American Express, then writes down his phone number and says buzz me, I’ll get you into my next show. So, I had Eddie’s phone number in my wallet for about five years, and every time I looked at it, I couldn’t come up with a decent thing to say if I did call. “Hey, I’m the jeans guy!” Then after a decade or so it popped in my head that I had it, I looked in my wallet and it was gone. I did get to see him live once. An old friend gave me tickets to see him for another KIIS-FM show and he was great. Hearing Two Tickets to Paradise took me back to early junior high. #michaelessington #lifewontwait
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 02:20:15 +0000
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