Looks like I never continued on my diatribe last week, but where does this diatribe even point? My friend, David Wittmer, helped me with the layout of one of the print runs of one of our earliest albums. He had an office/studio setup with high-tech computer programs and printers, and I had none such stuff. In the middle of working on a design, I got a call from a friend who was stranded in Tulsa, and she begged me to come pick her up. So I spoke to the head honcho at the Borders there about selling some of our albums there, and she said certainly, be there by this time. Why not? We'd sold in some record stores, anyway.
Now, I was pressed for time, and two round CD labels were born through his printer. However, they were not printed on sticker paper, so we decided to cut these out and glue them on by hand. Unfortunately, there was no glue stick around! Now it was past time to go! I hurried to Tulsa, stopped by the Borders, but the manager had already left. Will you take a message? OK, I left the two albums with them. Is there a glue stick I can borrow? Not sure. Well, the manager would probably just glue them on for us, I was informed. Really? This seems like such a backwoods operation, I'm loving it. I left her a note. They paid me for them and it probably added up to gas money for my trip, and then they'd just mark it up some.
Months down the road, shopping for some birthday or Christmas present while visiting my brother, I checked the local shelf upstairs. There they were sitting there. Sure enough, they were shrink wrapped with a bar code sticker and everything. Muy professional. I was impressed. There was a pretty decent review written about the album later. Some months later, I checked again. They were still there.
Some years went down the road, and I decided to check and see if this Borders would now sell our new album. I went in there. At that point, I didn't even have a copy of the previous album, and I wanted one for a keepsake. I went to look for it and didn't see it. Pushing back several locally produced records, there it was, in the very back, completely concealed.
I asked if I could just swap them out for a couple of new ones. Due to some technicality, I had to purchase them back. So I went to the counter and bought a couple of my albums for a discount. Opened it up, and the CD label slid right off the CD, sans glue. Ha.
Now our new ones were sitting there. Maybe they'd have a better fate. Time passed again until I heard that Borders was closing and going out of business. When I was in Tulsa, I though maybe I'd go see if the store was still open and maybe have a look and see about their fate. The store was already closed and empty.
Now, I was pressed for time, and two round CD labels were born through his printer. However, they were not printed on sticker paper, so we decided to cut these out and glue them on by hand. Unfortunately, there was no glue stick around! Now it was past time to go! I hurried to Tulsa, stopped by the Borders, but the manager had already left. Will you take a message? OK, I left the two albums with them. Is there a glue stick I can borrow? Not sure. Well, the manager would probably just glue them on for us, I was informed. Really? This seems like such a backwoods operation, I'm loving it. I left her a note. They paid me for them and it probably added up to gas money for my trip, and then they'd just mark it up some.
Months down the road, shopping for some birthday or Christmas present while visiting my brother, I checked the local shelf upstairs. There they were sitting there. Sure enough, they were shrink wrapped with a bar code sticker and everything. Muy professional. I was impressed. There was a pretty decent review written about the album later. Some months later, I checked again. They were still there.
Some years went down the road, and I decided to check and see if this Borders would now sell our new album. I went in there. At that point, I didn't even have a copy of the previous album, and I wanted one for a keepsake. I went to look for it and didn't see it. Pushing back several locally produced records, there it was, in the very back, completely concealed.
I asked if I could just swap them out for a couple of new ones. Due to some technicality, I had to purchase them back. So I went to the counter and bought a couple of my albums for a discount. Opened it up, and the CD label slid right off the CD, sans glue. Ha.
Now our new ones were sitting there. Maybe they'd have a better fate. Time passed again until I heard that Borders was closing and going out of business. When I was in Tulsa, I though maybe I'd go see if the store was still open and maybe have a look and see about their fate. The store was already closed and empty.
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