A cream British Garrard 301, a grey Czech Project RPM 9, a silver and black Swiss Lenco L75 and a German Dual 1209 record changer walk into a bar.
"That's no joke!" said the bartender.

Returning a Vinyl record - a customer support story

Customer: "The record I ordered is not playing. It's skipping."
Customer Service: "Have you tried it in your computer or any other player?"
Customer: ... Sounds of tearing hair out... gnashing of teeth...

And I call him Gerald

Gerald Comes To Town 3 chapters, 01 story

PROLOGUE

He strode into the room confidently. It was filled with acrylic heavyweights of all descriptions. Smooth belt operators, all of them. But he had eyes only for her. He was an anachronism in a world that had clearly moved on, bold and manly, unabashedly vintage. He didn’t engage in idle talk. He walked up to her, looked into her eyes, there were no elegant airs about him, in fact, was that industrial oil she detected on him?... Surely it couldn’t be….Then he put his arm around her waist, snapped his fingers at the band and they kicked things up a notch with a steamy samba and he whisked her across the floor, twirling her around, throwing her into the air, spinning her on her heels, sweeping her off her feet... And then as suddenly as it began, the music stopped. He walked out of the room, leaving all the heavyweights with their belt jaws slack. She was flushed, her heart pounding, music throbbing through her bloodstream, it was then she knew she had danced her last staid waltz. Gerald, had arrived.

CHAPTER ONE - GERALD

He had been locked up in a decrepit old wooden box for two years and now he wanted a mate. You’d be a little feisty and raring to go too if you were locked up for so long. I told him don’t worry, “I’ve got just the bird for you. She’s slim, svelte, your country mate and she’s got a knife edge that can melt butter.” “Is she wired for action?” Gerald wanted to know. I said “Well, she’s a wild Card alright, with a great As”. He wanted to know more about her bass. “Tight?” Gerald asked. “Musical” I said. That seemed to please him. Unfortunately you know how women are. She took a month to get ready… a little polish here, a head socket there, a new earth lug here… you know how it goes. Then she was worried about her rear end. It seemed to be sagging a bit and no self respecting woman wants that. Even Pilates didn’t seem to help any. So off went an order for a little rubber implant. Silicone is so passé dearies. And finally she was ready to meet Gerald.

CHAPTER TWO – THE MEETING

Gerald meanwhile was getting ready. He very well couldn’t invite her over to his old pad so I loaned him the dough and set him up in his own birch pad. A little pampering would do him good I figured after what he’s been through so far, poor fella. Then he started getting a little demanding. Apparently he was a great reader and had read Pinocchio and wanted to be brought to life. I told him I could not turn him into a boy but I could make him a man and hey how bout a set of balls. “Yeah they better not be squash-ed” he said. “Well let’s start off with those and then I’ll get you the latest sorbothane ones.” That placated him. Then he was worried about being able to perform. So I poured a little oil over troubled waters and soothed him down and he was purring like a contented kitten in no time, although picturing a hunk like him purring like a kitten is a very disturbing picture, so don’t imagine it. In due course, He, was ready for Her. I did the necessary introductions between Gerald and Her. Now let’s discreetly look into the distance while the union takes place. There, you can look now. OOOOOOOOH it’s a sight to see! Gerald all manly, simple, understated, with a sense of hidden strength emanating from him. Her, all sexy and slim gleaming alongside him, just waiting for her cue. 

CHAPTER THREE – THEY HIT IT OFF

The first dance was a slow one, Gerald set the pace, She followed. Then they found their Groove and there was no stopping them after that. They were the perfect partners, made for each other. Gerald setting the blistering pace, driving the rhythm along like one possessed, almost uncanny in his prescient ability to get into the musician’s heads and anticipate their every phrase shift and move. He Became the drummer, boogied up and down the keyboard, burned up the fretboard and sang with a voice you’d normally associate only with the siren like mermaids in fairytale books. Gerald gave it his all and whether you liked it or not, you were held spellbound, the rhythm alive and pulsing right in front of you. She was the perfect foil for his drive. Relaxed but with a nose like a foxhound, she tracked the music up and down the dale, grooving along, breathing feminine charm into the tapestry of sound, encouraging you to relax, kick your shoes off and soak in the magic. She was seductive enough to make you forget your regular vocabulary. This was no pale imitation, no mere reproduction of an event recorded long back, no siree, this was the Real Thing.