Nothing's Shakin Except My Baby
by mgolia6, June 21, 2012 3:23 pm
I decided to take a stab at moving some T-Shirts on lot during the winter of 2009, starting in Albany and working my way through to NYC.
Thinking that I was as wily and gregarious as the youthful version of my self, running up and down Shakedown with Wares and the likes, I set out on a mission to sell my stock of inventive long sleeves, oh the long sleeves, and five sweat shirts.
First, the economy was effecting everyone, even the loose pockets of the day time shoppers on Phish Lot in the circuses jaunt through each town were less loose. Lucy was not in full effect, and the only thing that seemed the bargain were the tanks belting out balloons, and popping off brain cells at one for three, two for...you know how it goes.
I must have run a hundred laps through this crowd, up and down, past the high grade goo ball girl, the french bread pizza dude, the frowning crystal hippstress, the other t-shirt guy. I am throwing out all the one liners, Mitch Hedberg would be proud. "Free Sex...and $15 for my shirt!" "Swine Flu T-Shirts" No takers, not a one, no stop and starers, no how much, no nothing.
Then the lights start to drop on the day, and that is when the connosiers come out of the wood work. Now I am getting hits, like a really strong You Tube video, not quite viral, and some people are tagging it dislike?! The cotton thread count is too high, its not organic. (I forgot to tell you the concept: Friendlybook- front Read Icculus- back. Facebook style) Then I get the...Pause..."oh I get it!"
At this point I am trying to get at least one of my shirts on the road and my high falluting price of $25 has been scathingly diminished, like my pride and overall self awareness to $15.00. Still no one. As I lap my last turn down Shakedown, my repitition coming to a hault like my legs underneath me, I relish in the fact that I still have a show ahead of me. I hope for some miracle from Gamhendge and a freak Icculus sighting to boost shirt sales.
(Night two more of the same, with two shirt sales in total for the weekend!)
Jump to Summer tour! My girlfriend is ragging on me for my investment, and the prospects of selling long sleeve T-Shirts during summer tour (it gets cold at night) and she grabs the box of Shirts, along with all necessary gear and we head to Saratoga.
As we reach the lot, she reaches into the back seat and pulls out a bunch of T-Shirts, throws them in my back pack and we head to that sky bridge where fairytales come true and leads you into the nether regions of Shakedown. Along the way, her next to me, doing nothing but looking pretty and dis-interested, and me donning a shirt like a runway model , not on, but drapped in front of me...what is this, jaw dropped kids come flocking like birds pecking up feed in some back alley park.
My girlfriend notices the attention, the fact that she is not even holding the shirt and they want to know about the shirt, and my prospects for Saratoga, and the economy at large and the general power of the female persuasion beginning to look fantastically optomistic.
Over the sky bridge, and into the wookie woods of Shakedown, my girlfriend even sporting a shirt, and disappearing into the crowd and my sales shoes are on. I am wheeling and dealing, making sure everyone catches my eyes, takes a look at the shirt, gives me a heady nod, a crunchy smile.
About fifteen minutes later my girlfriend is back with no shirts and all I can think is that some dick robbed her clean, I pull arithmatic from my ass, looking at the loss, cost, savings lost, chaching, chaching....
All I hear is her saying "Give me more, I need more!" As she stuffs money in my face and grabs a bunch of shirts from the bag..."Who the hell ordered XL's and XXL's and mediums for that matter, no one here is schmedium!" She disappears again and forty minutes later, we are out of shirts and nearly broken even.
I bow down to her feminine wiles, poking fun that she must have promised more than a shirt occasionally, but didn't deliver after the funds had been exchanged. And I never thought back to those infomercial roots, who is standing there next to Big Mr Sales Macho Man....that delicious eye candy that has a trick or two up her sleave, and just the right smile for you to take a bite and maybe regret later! But damn it tastes so good right now. My Girlfriend, no go on tour without her!
Thinking that I was as wily and gregarious as the youthful version of my self, running up and down Shakedown with Wares and the likes, I set out on a mission to sell my stock of inventive long sleeves, oh the long sleeves, and five sweat shirts.
First, the economy was effecting everyone, even the loose pockets of the day time shoppers on Phish Lot in the circuses jaunt through each town were less loose. Lucy was not in full effect, and the only thing that seemed the bargain were the tanks belting out balloons, and popping off brain cells at one for three, two for...you know how it goes.
I must have run a hundred laps through this crowd, up and down, past the high grade goo ball girl, the french bread pizza dude, the frowning crystal hippstress, the other t-shirt guy. I am throwing out all the one liners, Mitch Hedberg would be proud. "Free Sex...and $15 for my shirt!" "Swine Flu T-Shirts" No takers, not a one, no stop and starers, no how much, no nothing.
Then the lights start to drop on the day, and that is when the connosiers come out of the wood work. Now I am getting hits, like a really strong You Tube video, not quite viral, and some people are tagging it dislike?! The cotton thread count is too high, its not organic. (I forgot to tell you the concept: Friendlybook- front Read Icculus- back. Facebook style) Then I get the...Pause..."oh I get it!"
At this point I am trying to get at least one of my shirts on the road and my high falluting price of $25 has been scathingly diminished, like my pride and overall self awareness to $15.00. Still no one. As I lap my last turn down Shakedown, my repitition coming to a hault like my legs underneath me, I relish in the fact that I still have a show ahead of me. I hope for some miracle from Gamhendge and a freak Icculus sighting to boost shirt sales.
(Night two more of the same, with two shirt sales in total for the weekend!)
Jump to Summer tour! My girlfriend is ragging on me for my investment, and the prospects of selling long sleeve T-Shirts during summer tour (it gets cold at night) and she grabs the box of Shirts, along with all necessary gear and we head to Saratoga.
As we reach the lot, she reaches into the back seat and pulls out a bunch of T-Shirts, throws them in my back pack and we head to that sky bridge where fairytales come true and leads you into the nether regions of Shakedown. Along the way, her next to me, doing nothing but looking pretty and dis-interested, and me donning a shirt like a runway model , not on, but drapped in front of me...what is this, jaw dropped kids come flocking like birds pecking up feed in some back alley park.
My girlfriend notices the attention, the fact that she is not even holding the shirt and they want to know about the shirt, and my prospects for Saratoga, and the economy at large and the general power of the female persuasion beginning to look fantastically optomistic.
Over the sky bridge, and into the wookie woods of Shakedown, my girlfriend even sporting a shirt, and disappearing into the crowd and my sales shoes are on. I am wheeling and dealing, making sure everyone catches my eyes, takes a look at the shirt, gives me a heady nod, a crunchy smile.
About fifteen minutes later my girlfriend is back with no shirts and all I can think is that some dick robbed her clean, I pull arithmatic from my ass, looking at the loss, cost, savings lost, chaching, chaching....
All I hear is her saying "Give me more, I need more!" As she stuffs money in my face and grabs a bunch of shirts from the bag..."Who the hell ordered XL's and XXL's and mediums for that matter, no one here is schmedium!" She disappears again and forty minutes later, we are out of shirts and nearly broken even.
I bow down to her feminine wiles, poking fun that she must have promised more than a shirt occasionally, but didn't deliver after the funds had been exchanged. And I never thought back to those infomercial roots, who is standing there next to Big Mr Sales Macho Man....that delicious eye candy that has a trick or two up her sleave, and just the right smile for you to take a bite and maybe regret later! But damn it tastes so good right now. My Girlfriend, no go on tour without her!
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