Favorite song

“Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand” was heard coming out of my record stores’ speakers. It was a beautiful day in London.

1982 was turning out to be a great year. I had a new favorite band, a new city to explore and a great job.

Record stores had been my favorite places ever since I can remember. I bought the store from the previous owner who was going to India on a spiritual journey. He gave it to me for a song. Pun intended.

The employees had great musical knowledge and could make great recommendations for customers based on what they currently liked.

Most every salesperson was young and still in school. What we called high school in America. They were so jealous I had an American passport. I told them I was more jealous of them for having grown up in London.

One day one of my most reliable employees, Jay, didn’t show up or call for his morning shift.

When I called my assistant manager and asked him to come into work, he said he also hadn’t heard from him.

Later that day one of my key holders told me he was at the hospital because his father had a heart attack at 1 am.

Jay finally called and explained. I told him how sorry I was to hear about his dad and to take all the time he needed. Jay was, of course, concerned about my schedule. I told him it was my problem.