How Working at HMV Over the Holidays Prepared Me for the Inevitable Zombie Apocalypse

It was Saturday, December 22nd, 2012 and I had been charged with the task of restocking the campaign DVDs and blu-rays in alphabetical order. We had all been given strict instructions to work efficiently and fast. Today was anticipated to be the worst day yet. Everything up until this point was a cake walk.

The gates weren’t scheduled to open until 10:00am but even as early as 9:23 I could see the throng of milling, listless bodies shuffle about just beyond the gates.

“Are you guys open yet?”

Shit. Must stock faster, I told myself. I had been at this for an hour, repairing the damages incurred yesterday and I was only on “Daddy Day Care”. I worked distractedly, one eye never leaving the hoard at the gates. I was already sweating.

At 9:56, I looked up from my work. It was almost time; none of my peers were ready. I sure as hell wasn’t  The throng beyond the gates had grown to about 150 and the gate would be opening in three minutes. I will never forget the way they just slithered back and forth behind the Plexiglas, never once breaking eye contact.

There was no time left to prepare. We had to make our stand here and now or die. It was as simple as that. Continue reading


Unsustainable Music; What Dubstep Means to Me

This past Christmas season, I spent many hours working in an HMV store in one of Victoria’s major malls. For those unaware, HMV is a big music retailer in Canada and was in the UK, evidently. What made the job so engaging for me, speaking as a major audiophile, was the conversations I got to have with customers who desperately needed help finding the perfect CD for those on their shopping lists. Looking for a CD for a Michael Bublé fan that already has all the Bublé? Try Michael Kaeshammer, friend! Your girlfriend loves Norah Jones but has all her solo stuff? Well get her The Little Willies, guy! These are the conversations I live for and talking music springs life in me the way few other conversations do.

I’d have to say that the most memorable conversation, however, was with a sweet old lady who was looking for some music for her fifteen-year old grandson.

Continue reading