AudioShocker

It was the end of 2004. While shopping at my New York City comic shop of choice (which shall go nameless), the idea came to me that I should work there and save a few bucks on my weekly haul.

Everything about my interview went smooth like butter until I was asked, “Do you read any online comic book reviews?” Not reviews, I told him, but I read news and interviews on Newsarama. A look of shock washed over my interviewer’s face as he asked, “What?! Why don’t you read Pop Culture Shock?”

I didn’t have a good answer for the guy. Maybe because I barely knew anything about Pop Culture Shock. Maybe because Newsarama was more comics-centric back then. Either way, there was an air of sadness in his voice that made absolutely no sense.

Eventually, I got the job. This was around the time that the Countdown to Infinite Crisis cover image was being teased. Everyone speculated that Batman was holding a dead Nightwing. As I was stuffing poly bags with back issues, I made an offhand comment about the Jim Lee art.

“Psssh, who cares if he dies?” I said jokingly, figuring that my sarcasm was inherent in my tone of voice. “Nightwing sucks anyway.”

“Don’t let Dave hear you say that,” another employee whispered. “Nightwing is his favorite character.”

“What?!” Dave shouted from across the room. “Who said Nightwing sucks? Nick, Why would you say that?!”

History repeated itself only a couple days later when I was part of the Tuesday crew carrying Wednesday’s new books up the painfully long staircase leading up to the store. Warlock was the topic and I made another offhand comment.

“Psssh, who cares if he never has another series?” I said, jokingly. “Warlock sucks anyway.”

“Don’t let Andy hear you say that,” another employee whispered. “Warlock is his favorite character.”

“What?!” Andy shouted from the top of the stairwell. “Who said Warlock sucks? Nick, Why would you say that?!”

At that point, I should have just quit and saved myself the degradation that would follow. If it wasn’t already bad enough that I was carrying heavy boxes up a double-long staircase in the middle of a harsh NYC winter, I was also getting yelled at for writing a quick note on the back of a store business card and getting my headed farted on by another employee.

A couple days later, I was suddenly called into the back office. “Nicholas,” my boss said (he had an annoying habit of calling me by my full name), “we’re going to have to let you go. It’s just not working out.” Fine by me! The bastards never paid me the raise they said I would get after my first week. Plus, I was tired of getting farted on.

Still, this was another opportunity blown. I never got to work at a comic creator signing, and I never got to understand the intricacies of major market comic book sales. If I had kept my mouth shut and stopped making wisecracks about B-list superheroes, maybe I would have had a future in comics retailing.

And that’s just another reason why I’m going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.