Selling Your Soul
There is one aspect of Rexville that people have been asking me to cover for roughly the past six months, but I have so far resisted doing so. At least in-depth.
In addition to weekly motels, wedding chapels, drug sales, streetwalkers-r-us, tattoo parlors, strip clubs, and bail bonds places … the next most prominent business type in the neighborhood would probably be pawn shops. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a two-square-mile area in the world with more pawn shops than Rexville. Unfortunately, these are probably the businesses in which I am the least interested.
Something about pawn shops have always depressed me. They represent the aspect of capitalism that I am the least fond of. Basically, one man’s misfortune is another’s gain. I generally don’t think well of payday loan places, or realtors who take customers on tours of houses where the occupants have just been thrown on the street. I could never go to a foreclosure sale or an auction where people’s lives are sold off piece-by-piece. I would feel like a parasite.
The USA has gone from a nation of innovators to a nation of professional middle-men. We don’t really produce anything anymore. Instead, we just stick our finger in as many jars as we can find. We re-sell the same product or service as many times as possible so that multiple people can skim value off of something they had no hand in creating.
Why create something of value when you can buy, sell, or broker it?
“Entrepreneur” has gone from “person inventing cool shit and selling it” to “person with little talent or intellect who has learned to lie in order to sell other people’s shit for a higher price”. Am I right Girl Scouts?
The quality of most American-produced goods are now on-par with that of China, and the amount of false advertising and outright deception perpetrated by our companies have turned the U.S. economy into the equivalent of a Nigerian email scam.
It’s a large part of why the American empire has fallen, most likely … permanently.
In my opinion, pawn shops are a microcosm of this dynamic. Buy as low as you can from a desperate person, sell as high as possible to someone a bit less desperate, pocket the profit.
It’s far from noble, but hey, I suppose someone has to do it.
After posting a picture of the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop on my blog a couple of months ago, I was informed that the place was the setting of a popular television show. I had obviously never seen the show (not owning a TV and all that), but someone threw up a web link where I could watch clips.
I watched about a half hour of the program, observed an old dude saying things, a bunch of large white dudes selling stuff, and a really large black guy that just kind of looked menacing.
Parts of the show were quite interesting, such as when a bald guy bought a plane … and some of it less so, such as when a rotund guy drove around running errands. It was typical reality-show fare, I suppose. I’m really not sure why so many of these retail-reality shows are set in Vegas, but it’s probably because our town is a human-zoo with more weirdos per-capita than any other town on the planet.
I did wince during one episode when one of the owners said “We treat all of our employees like family, as long as they are making money for us. The minute they stop making us money, they are no longer part of the family”. At least I was content that I had not unfairly judged the pawn industry.
Anyway, since I had not been in the interior of a pawn shop for probably ten years, I decided to walk over to the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop this morning. I left the house … but halfway there, I stopped in my tracks.
Just after passing Boston Pizza, I had a change of heart, and decided to abort my morning quest.
First of all, I don’t queue up in lines to see TV personalities. It’s just not something that I do. The grapefruit-effect has no influence on me whatsoever. I’m just more interested in my own life than the lives of other people. I don’t think this is narcissism, I think it is normal human behavior which has been bastardized into somehow being abnormal by endless streams of reality shows. I’ve never watched Survivor, never watched The Bachelor, and never watched Jersey Shore. I only know about these shows because other people talk about them ad-nauseum. I’m completely indifferent to the shows, and always will be.
The presence of a “fan line” at the pawn shop was not my biggest worry, however. I was far more worried that there would not be a line, at which point I would have no excuse but to go inside. The realization that I might have to talk to the owners and justify my presence in the store caused me some level of anxiety. I had no idea what to say to these people.
In my head, I ran through the scenario, and it went something like this:
Me: Hi.
Chumlee: Hi.
Me: So, you are the guys with the TV show?
Chumlee: Yeah.
Me: I see. Okay, thanks. Have a nice day.
Chumlee: You too.
(I walk out the door)
Chumlee to the Old Man: What the fuck was that about?
There was just no point in the endeavor. I had nothing to say, and I had no legitimate business in the establishment, so why waste their time? The whole thing just seemed gratuitous.
Instead, I did a 180, walked to Tiffany’s, and enjoyed breakfast with about a dozen of my bizarro peers from the neighborhood. We acknowledged each other with a nod, ate shoulder-to-shoulder without saying a word, and disappeared into the Rexville cityscape after paying our check. This is human interaction the way God intended it to be.
When all was said and done, I was pleased with my choice.
As far as Pawn Shops go, I got in the car a bit later, drove around the neighborhood, and took an external tour of the various shops. Even though I’m not fond of the business model, I can still appreciate the aesthetics of pawn joints. Each shop is almost like a piece of pop-art. They have their own character and style, and they do help contribute to the overall “weird and seedy” vibe of the neighborhood.
When push comes to shove, I suppose it’s better to have your neighborhood infested with pawn shops, rather than Best Buys, K-Marts, and Walmarts.
Like the aforementioned big box stores, however, I think I will always be content to admire pawn shops from the outside.































