Gaming World Forums
General Category => General Talk => Topic started by: Bled on July 08, 2008, 08:20:29 pm
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So I'm finally back from my 10 day stretch as an explosives merchant, and I bring with me a few tips for those of you who may be planning on spending the better part of two weeks hopelessly trapped under a carelessly erected tarp in a gravel pit during the most stupidly hot and humid part of summer.
Tip #1: DON'T FUCKING DO IT.
Go to college. Work at McDonald's. Rob a liquor store. Mooch off of your parents/siblings/girlfriend/government. Sell plasma. Cheat on your taxes. Call collect. Sell a spare body organ on the black market. Whatever you do, DO NOT let yourself believe that selling fireworks is in any way worth the time and effort.
Tip #2: In the event that Tip #1 fails, be sure to check your socks, shoes, blankets, pillows, and other intimate items for colossal forest spiders every morning and every night. These hideous fuckers will hide very patiently in your shit for hours on end just to get an opportunity to scutter up your back and suck your eyeballs out through the back of your head.
(https://legacy.gamingw.net/etc/i80.photobucket.com/albums/j175/imminentmike/shelob.webp)
I've...seen it happen...
Tip #3: Under no circumstances should you attempt to bathe yourself or change clothes more than twice in a five day period. Bathing yourself with bottled water and a bar of soap will only leave you a hairy, soapy mess before you climb into bed at night. While you are at rest the dirty wetness in your armpits will refuse to dry and the remnants of the soap bubbles on your body will crust over and affix your testicles to the side of your leg.
Although it may not seem very advantageous at the time, your best bet is to revel in the filth for as long as possible and contemplate all of the mistakes you've made in your life that led to this point.
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Having said that, I will gladly share with you a few choice tales about the strange people and situations that I experienced during my stay in the tent.
June 26th: Arrival
(https://legacy.gamingw.net/etc/i80.photobucket.com/albums/j175/imminentmike/tent.webp)
This isn't an actual photo of the tent we were in, as I forgot my camera when I left the apartment that morning. It's pretty close, though.
The tent we were working was in Columbia, Tennessee, which is about a two hour drive from where I live. Before I accepted the job I hadn't even heard of the place, so it was sort of an adventure simply finding it. We finally got there, though, and the first day was a journey into the depths of a hell that I had not previously realized.
First of all, it was about 99 degrees outside and not so much as the ghost of a cloud in the sky. Secondly, we had roughly half of a Penske truck full of fireworks to unload, unpack, and set up on the tables. It was about a 14 hour job, at the end of which I was ready to trek into the woods and suffocate myself with a badger.
June 27th - July 2nd: Sales Begin.
Blegh. There isn't a whole lot to say about the first few days we were open. We sold maybe $2000 worth of fireworks the whole time and didn't meet a single interesting person. My friend who was helping me run the tent was trying to run game on the lady in the tobacco store next to us, but it never came to fruition. We mostly sat around and sweated ourselves into delirium.
July 3rd: Sales EXPLODE.
Notably, we had a meat man drive up with a giant freezer on the back of his truck and try to trade $300 worth of prime cut steak for a $140 box of fireworks. Instead I cut him a deal and let him walk out with a sizable box of shit for his kids for $100 even.
Most notably, this is the day that the crackhead decided to show up.
(https://legacy.gamingw.net/etc/i80.photobucket.com/albums/j175/imminentmike/cracky.webp)
The strange, uneasy feeling I got around this guy is something that I can't really put into words. Suffice it to say that his story was fractured and nonsensical and his smile was just a bit too wide. Although I didn't believe a word that came out of his toothy, bearded face, he pestered us unrelentingly for the next two days.
I won't go into epic detail about the antics that followed after this guy showed up. I first thought he was a customer until he neglected to even peruse the merchandise, instead electing to set in on revealing every intimate detail of his life for the past three years to me. Apparently he was originally from Oregon, came to Tennessee after "getting in trouble with the law", and had been sleeping in a field for the last three days after his "wife" kicked him out of their motel room for "fighting" with a group of guys.
He wandered through our gravel pit at least five times a day for the next 48 hours, usually flailing his arms at no one and talking to himself after dark. It was unknown to us that he had moved up from his grassy pallet in the field to sleeping in the alleyway between the hardwood floor place and the tobacco shop beside our tent.
As far as business goes, July 3rd was predictably the best business day we had experienced thus far. We sold more fireworks in one day than we had gotten rid of in the previous week altogether, and our boss expected us to double that amount on the night of the fourth.
The customers were mostly decent rednecks from the suburbia across the road from us, but that night we had a few Chinamen try to skirt taxes by buying over $150 worth of shit in cash. In so many words I politely told them to go fuck themselves and proceeded to deal with customers who wanted to, you know, make legal purchases.
Also lots more sweating, filth, and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I would die in this place.
July 4th: Giant spider in the Port-o-Jon.
Rolled off of the table I was sleeping on at roughly 8:15 am, lit a cigarette, stumbled out back to the jon-o-potty and nearly got my face sucked off by a monstrous seven-legged arachnibeast perched menacingly on the toilet lid. Pissed in the field.
Business picked up at around 10:00 am and didn't taper off until somewhere near 1:00 am the next day. At one point a giant white van parked out front and roughly 32 frat boys spilled out and filled up the tent. When they found out we didn't do buy one, get one free on our most expensive boxes and wouldn't trade one for a box of liquor, one guy spent about $2.16 on a pack of firecrackers and they all left.
It was around 8:00 pm the night of July 4th when the crackhead finally pushed it a bit too far. He had already been in the tent a couple of times earlier in the day trying to bum money off of our customers. When I realized he was doing it we threatened to call the cops and told him to get the fuck out. True to his form, he showed up again when our boss came to collect our sales money and bummed $5 from him. At this point we made it very clear to him that it would not be in his best interest to ever return to our place of businesses.
We closed up shop at around 2:00 am after having sold about $8,000 worth of explosives in a single day. After our boss collected money earlier in the night we still went to bed with about $2000 in cash on our persons. It was as I was outside of the tent getting a smoke in before bed that I noticed the crackhead wandering around again in the parking lot of the business beside us. I got kinda nervous, but my partner was naked behind the tent trying to bathe himself with bottled water and I didn't want the police to show up while he was still exposed.
By the time my partner joined me out front the crackhead had moved from the parking lot to the back entrance of the business. He was about 200 yards away and simply standing there, staring ominously at our tent. My partner agreed that it was a good idea to call the police, so I hit 911 and in about two minutes there were five of them in the parking lot ready to confront him. Even from a distance it looked like this was a familiar situation for the crackhead.
(https://legacy.gamingw.net/etc/i80.photobucket.com/albums/j175/imminentmike/popo.webp)
They talked to him for a minute, searched his person and his plastic bag, and gave him two field sobriety tests which he failed miserably while still clutching a half-empty beer. They decided to let him go with a warning, though, and he set off walking down the highway in the opposite direction of our tent. We slept peacefully that night and didn't see him again.
July 5th: Half-Off Day!
Relatively uneventful, although sales were great. Purposefully overcharged a guy who spent over $250. Bought a couple of hamburgers and a pack of smokes. Packed up the tent at 6:00 pm and sat around for six hours waiting for the truck to pick up the remnants of our stock.
By far the most interesting and gruesome story from the whole experience came to us by word of mouth from a bored police officer at about 11:30 pm. According to the officer, a guy had come to our tent at some point during the last two days and bought a bunch of fireworks for a bottle rocket war with his friends from the neighborhood. As the party progressed everyone got drunk and started shooting themselves with roman candles and throwing firecrackers at one another. It was all fun and games until one of them found this...
(https://legacy.gamingw.net/etc/i80.photobucket.com/albums/j175/imminentmike/mortar.webp)
The guy who bought the fireworks realized that some drunken asshole had picked up the mortar, lit it, and proceeded to aim it at him. Rather than take his chances trying to dodge it, he decided to make a mad dash to his car and try to get inside to safety. He was halfway into his car when the mortar went off, striking him squarely in the back. The force of the blow knocked him into his car with the still-burning shell, where it exploded on top of him.
According to the policeman, the blast set him on fire and burned over 70% of his body before paramedics arrived on the scene and rushed him to the nearest hospital. The last we heard from the cop was that he was still in critical condition and they weren't sure if he was going to survive.
Tired, shell-shocked, and a little perturbed that one of the items we sold may very well have killed a man, we finally loaded our remaining stock into our boss's trailer and set off into the night without looking back.
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Wow, the streets are dangerous stuff man...........The life of a fireworks clerk........would make a good movie.
Glad to know you're safe and A-OK.
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Good story man. How much did you get payed?
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Good story man. How much did you get payed?
Not sure yet. The tent we were in is normally a $20,000 tent. State law requires at least two people in a tent to sell, and we collectively made 10% of sales, so yeah. We sold maybe $17 or $18 grand, so I'm expecting at least $700. Maybe more.
It's gonna take them a couple of days to do inventory on all the tents and figure up everyone's paycheck. I should know something by Friday of this week.
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Haha, awesome story. The crackhead must have been a pain-in-the-ass, though.
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That is an awesome story man, exactly how big was the spider though?
I unwittingly picked up some crackwhore on my way home from N. Carolina with some friends about two months ago.
I was with a friend who was passed out driving into town when I saw something leap into the road, right infront of my car. All I saw was long hair and the outline of a woman's figure so I thought the only decent thing to do would be to take her home.
Next thing I know some dirty looking, dangerously skinny lady was walking into my car. My friend then woke up and said, "WHAT THE FUCK" I told him I'd almost hit her and I was just gonna drop her off in town.
She was blabbering incoherently about how she met some dude at wafflehouse that tried to have sex with her or something and all she wanted to do was "shoot up" and he stole her shoe. She asked if I was gonna stop at a local gas station so she could get cigs and I said, "sure". When she got out she asked if I was gonna leave her there and I said yep and drove off.
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When she got out she asked if I was gonna leave her there and I said yep and drove off.
lol, like, how did this work? Was she out of the car and she asked? Was she in the car knowing you were going to leave her there as soon as she stepped out? Did you just kind of take off?
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She got out, had the door open and said, "You're gonna leave me here aren't you" and then I said "yeah" she shut the door and went in. I don't even think when I stopped I fully realized what was going on, wanted to check the car to make sure I didn't fuck it up (just bought it) or hit anyone. And here comes this fucked up lady just walking into my car, so I was just like "FUCK IT" and decided to drop her off in town. It was only a few minutes away anyways.
Anyways I dropped my friend off before her and they were all making jokes about how I was alone with some crackhead. She didn't get in the front seat though, soon as my friend got out I gunned it to the store as fast as I could.
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Jeese Bled, now I wonder what Carnies have to go through .
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That is an awesome story man, exactly how big was the spider though?
Meh, I can't really find any good google pics for scale. Take your mouse and cut it in half and you'll probably have the rough circumference of the thing legs and all. With me half asleep and sore from having slept on a table all night it was pretty goddamn frightening.
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I work at an adult shop between a biker bar and a strip club. Needless to say, we get some interesting customers, including plenty of crackheads. I had a woman the other day trying to find something to help her pass a drug test (basically she wanted to store fake urine in her vagina), I promptly kicked her the fuck out. I think the same day I had a guy come in telling me how he had been diagnosed with angina pectoris looking for money to get home to Phoenix. His story wasn't unbelievable, but he seemed a little shifty and fired off a perfectly rehearsed script like many addicts do. I actually had a woman (who, in retrospect, was a meth addict) bum money off me when I was like 10, claiming she needed money for diapers for her (non-present) child. That's rock bottom IMO, lying to a 10 year old to get your fix.
We also get a guy who goes to the Bashful Bandit (the biker bar), gets a little tipsy, then comes our way to charge his cellphone and tell us stories about how he's got countless degrees and invented practically everything in our store.
And apparently we used to sell CO2 cartridges, I can't remember what for, but addicts would just come in and buy them to get high (whip-its). We long since stopped selling them, but I still get junkies looking for a high trying to buy them. They're flustered and shocked when I tell them they're now illegal.
It's actually pretty sad. I guess Tucson has a growing meth problem, and I consistently see customers with set-in cheeks, baggy eyes, and nervous laughs.
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Whip-its are legal in Florida and seem to be mostly used by college kids or kids with drug problems who aren't really addicts - I think junkies are usually into harder, longer-lasting stuff. Whip-its last like 30 seconds and are pretty expensive in bulk!
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Had a really disgusting-looking crackhead come up to me in the middle of the street and yell "I DON'T DO CRACK AND I DON'T GIVE HEAD SO I AIN'T A CRACKHEAD!"
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Whip-its are legal in Florida and seem to be mostly used by college kids or kids with drug problems who aren't really addicts - I think junkies are usually into harder, longer-lasting stuff. Whip-its last like 30 seconds and are pretty expensive in bulk!
Here, they're primarily used by people who are meth/crack addicts. I've never had college kids ask for them, and I get college kids asking for a lot of dumb shit.
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That story was exceedingly entertaining bled. Since I'm in Australia, how did this work exactly? Was there a market set up or were you guys just on the side of the road or what?
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Jeese Bled, now I wonder what Carnies have to go through .
I'm assuming a carnie has it much worse than a couple of guys who just happen to get stuck in a tent for 10 days. I knew a guy who went into the carnival and didn't make it back out for like, six months.
That story was exceedingly entertaining bled. Since I'm in Australia, how did this work exactly? Was there a market set up or were you guys just on the side of the road or what?
We slept in a tent for ten days. Specifically, I slept on a table with little more than a ragged slice of carpet and a sleeping bag to keep me comfortable. The fireworks were set up on tables inside of the tent, and other than that we had a cooler, a can opener, a couple of bags of clothes, a box fan, two chairs, an electric guitar and an amp.
The tent was on one of the bigger highways in Columbia, so we had cars driving by at all hours of the day and night. We opened at 8:00 am and closed around 12:00 am, so on busy days we were on our feet for 16 hours.
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Fireworks are illegal here. Only the townshalls are allowed to buy them and organize a yearly party.
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Fireworks are illegal here. Only the townshalls are allowed to buy them and organize a yearly party.
Where do you live? We had a couple of people passing through from Georgia who said that fireworks were illegal in the whole state until last year.
I'm pretty sure one of those guys spent at least $200 on us. :cool:
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According to the policeman, the blast set him on fire and burned over 70% of his body before paramedics arrived on the scene and rushed him to the nearest hospital. The last we heard from the cop was that he was still in critical condition and they weren't sure if he was going to survive.
and this is why firecrackers are illegal in most states and people have to rely on shitty streamers and sputtering fountains.
When she got out she asked if I was gonna leave her there and I said yep and drove off.
you're a dick dude i would have bought some blow off her
Not sure yet. The tent we were in is normally a $20,000 tent. State law requires at least two people in a tent to sell, and we collectively made 10% of sales, so yeah. We sold maybe $17 or $18 grand, so I'm expecting at least $700. Maybe more.
jeez 700 bux for a shitty weeks worth of work??
hell i'd do it. i love adventures and this sounded wild. i probably would have accepted the meat and hooch as payment.
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She didn't even have any blow, or even a goddamn purse SHE WAS MISSING A FUCKING SHOE. fuck that shit I didn't want to get stabbed or any diseases or anything.
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jeez 700 bux for a shitty weeks worth of work??
hell i'd do it. i love adventures and this sounded wild. i probably would have accepted the meat and hooch as payment.
If I ever do it again and I'm not as worried about money as I am right now then I probably will make some fantastic deals for liquor, meat, and sexual favors. I've always wanted to travel to a new town and poop on a girl's chest.
Here's an update on the payment situation for you guys....
I went to visit some family in my hometown earlier this week and stopped by my tent partner's place on the way back through to check up on the money. We were supposed to get paid yesterday. Like I said before, I was expecting somewhere around $700.
According to the guy, who has been a friend of mine for almost two years now, our tent didn't do as well as I thought it did. He told me we only made about $14,000 the whole time and I could only expect to get about $450 from the whole deal.
$450!
You see, every time our boss would collect money in the tent he would leave a little receipt with us with a grand total showing how much we had made that day. He came every day to collect cash, so by July 4th I already had a running total for how much we had sold and how much money I could expect to make from the job. All I had to do was take 10% of the grand total for sales, take 10% taxes from that total, subtract the $100 advance that our boss gave us, and divide that number equally between myself and my partner. I did this at around 6:00 pm on July 4th and came up with around $480, and we went on to sell at least another $5,000 after that point.
Somewhere, somehow, in some shitty little corner of Tennessee where words like "honor" and "decency" are meaningless, I am getting fucked. I don't know if it's the boss or if it's my partner yet, but someone is sitting around with more than $200 of my money in their pockets.
I'll have more on this Monday when I call the boss and ask for the official total for sales from our tent. I'm gonna get him to explain to me exactly how much money we made, how much came out with taxes, and what other totals he took out of my money for whatever reason. I have a strong suspicion that my partner is the one that's trying to cut me short here, and I'm really looking forward to date-raping his grandmother if that turns out to be the case.
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Where do you live? We had a couple of people passing through from Georgia who said that fireworks were illegal in the whole state until last year.
I'm pretty sure one of those guys spent at least $200 on us. :cool:
He lives in Chile.
This was a pretty nice read, Bled.
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Pretty interesting. Though when you said "explosives merchant", I was thinking Lord of War. I was expecting a story about an illegal arms run, haha. That would have been pretty crazy, but nice story nevertheless.
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Don't lose those receits if you still got em'. Basically it's a good idea to always have more then one receit, copy atlest enough times to split it if it's a two man opperation. Hide them too. It's typical buisness to never put more trust then necessary in your partners/co-workers/bosses/whatever to get the job done, and never give them the benifit of the doubt. Least you find yourself ripped off, and trust me thats the LEAST that could happen to you.
Since your partner was the one who found the job in the first place then you'll have to assume both are at fault.
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Pretty interesting. Though when you said "explosives merchant", I was thinking Lord of War. I was expecting a story about an illegal arms run, haha. That would have been pretty crazy, but nice story nevertheless.
Well, we did have a couple of guys come in wanting to buy a single long fuse. I can only imagine what sort of bastardized franken-bomb they had rigged up and stashed under their trailer.
Don't lose those receits if you still got em'. Basically it's a good idea to always have more then one receit, copy atlest enough times to split it if it's a two man opperation. Hide them too. It's typical buisness to never put more trust then necessary in your partners/co-workers/bosses/whatever to get the job done, and never give them the benifit of the doubt. Least you find yourself ripped off, and trust me thats the LEAST that could happen to you.
That's the thing, though: I never got to see all of the receipts. By the time we had all of the stock packed up and I was ready to count all of the money my partner had nabbed the receipts and all of the cash we made that day. I told him to let me see them so I could get an idea of how much money we had made, but his excuse was ARRRGH IT'S TOO MUCH TROUBLE TO GET IT OUT OF MY POCKETS. I could have kicked his ass and taken them, but then I would have made no money and probably earned myself a night or two in jail.
Needless to say, I won't be taking part in any more business ventures with this asshole. I'm gonna call the boss tomorrow and see if I can't get this straightened out.
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Yeah dude, $450 for a week of work like that is tight as hell, especially if it sounded as crazy as your week did.
Still must've been quite the experience! Great read.
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It actually came to about $425 when the guy came to give me my money yesterday, and I was originally very pissed about it. I got college money coming in about a month, though, so I guess I'm not too worried.
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Bled: Merchant of Death
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If you were on peyote, this story could easily be a novel.
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When I was younger my roommate went off to Mexico and bought a bunch of fireworks for a couple hundred bucks. He came back, we fired some bottle rockets around (nearly shot my neighbor's cat, but it was a fucking annoying cat and would have deserved it), and he decides to resell the rest. So he packs everything into the trunk, goes to a friend's party, and sells them. Basically this:
As the party progressed everyone got drunk and started shooting themselves with roman candles and throwing firecrackers at one another
happens. Except there was this one guy with an exceedingly large afro
(http://gamingw.net/pubaccess/44166/1609163.jpg)
who's running around. He gets shot in the HEAD with one of these suckers and his HAIR IS ON FIRE. My roommate quickly grabs a nearby cooler full of icewater and puts it out, leaving a huge-ass BALD SPOT in the middle of his afro.
If there was ever a Kodak moment...
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Dude, I'm gonna have to add FLAMING AFRO to my list of ridiculous shit I must see before I die after that little story. I suppose it'll go somewhere in between "public hanging" and "world's largest ball of twine".
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Also there was once an article in the newspaper about a guy's car that was blown up by a flaming squirrel (literally on fire). This was in Manitoba, i'd chalk that up to a ridiculous thing to see before I go.
So... any progress with that dudes Grandmother, have you made it to drug in drink?
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Wait....a flaming squirrel? I mean, did it try to climb into the gas tank while it was on fire or what? HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN.
His grandma is a stiff old broad, so I changed my mind and now I'm gonna wait and take my money out of the new paint job on his car with a penny. Or, you know, something equally petty like that.