Ever notice how people transform into moral philosophers the second someone threatens their precious hobbies? Like fucking Kant reincarnated as a Reddit user with dorito-dusted fingers, suddenly developing ethical frameworks that would make Aristotle shoot himself. There you are, scrolling through AITA like it's some kind of digital confessional booth where absolution comes in the form of strangers validating your pathetic existence, when you stumble upon a tale of vinyl, vigilantism, and the void of meaning we all desperately try to fill with plastic discs that go round and round until they don't anymore. Just like life.
So this happened last weekend and I'm still wondering if I was out of line.
I (32-year-old male) was at a local record shop I hit up pretty often, small spot, real community vibe, lots of regulars.
While I'm flipping through crates, I overhear this kid (probably like 19 or 20) on FaceTime with his mate. He's holding an original UK pressing of Madvillainy, rare as hell these days, especially in good condition with the original PIAS hype sticker still on it. He's saying stuff like:
"Bro this goes for like £200 easy on eBay lol should I cop?"
"Decent condition too, still got the hype sticker."
Now look... I get the hustle but something about it just rubbed me the wrong way. This wasn't some flipper event or a big record fair, this was a small indie shop. The owner definitely priced it low (£50) on purpose because it's the kind of place that tries to hook up real collectors.
So I (probably a little salty) said:
"Hey man, if you're just grabbing that to flip it online, maybe leave it for someone who actually wants to listen to it."
He kind of laughs awkwardly like "uh... I mean that's not really your business?"
After a minute or two of awkward vibe, he put it back and left without buying anything.
And yeah... I bought it.
£50 for a record I've been after for years. Not to flip. Not to stick on a wall. It's spinning in my flat right now.
Later, the shop owner (who knows me) just kind of laughed like "bit savage mate, but it is what it is."
My mate I told thinks I was totally in the wrong, said I basically bullied a kid out of a record just because I got there late and didn't want to pay eBay prices.
So… AITA for stepping in and copping it myself?
EDIT (5 hours later):
Alright, took a beating in here, fair play 😂
Reading through all these replies (even the rough ones) kind of made me step back and think about the whole thing a bit differently.
End of the day... I'm in this hobby because I love the music, not because I want to end up in internet arguments about resale ethics.
So yeah, went back to the shop this afternoon and dropped the record back off. Told the owner to pass it on to the next person who looks genuinely excited to have found it.
Feels better that way.
Proof for anyone who cares: https://i.postimg.cc/VNd15j9k/IMG-4372.jpg
Appreciate all the takes, even if I absolutely caught the vinyl cop badge for life on this one 😂
The Meaningless Analysis of Meaningless Actions
Our protagonist—and I use that term with all the irony of a hipster wearing a Nirvana shirt who thinks Dave Grohl is "that drummer guy"—decides to appoint himself the Guardian of Vinyl Integrity™ at his local record shop. This music-store messiah, this disciple of discography, this vinyl vigilante overhears a kid planning to flip a rare Madvillainy pressing and decides the cosmic order has been disturbed.
What fucking delicious irony. The older man bullying a younger one under the guise of preserving "community," as if a small business selling mass-produced cultural artifacts somehow transcends capitalism's bloodsoaked claws. It's like watching a penguin lecture fish about the dangers of swimming while standing on a melting iceberg. The universe doesn't give two spinning fucks about who owns a vinyl record or why, yet here we are, constructing elaborate moral hierarchies about the "right" way to consume.
The record—pressed in factories by underpaid workers, shipped using fossil fuels, probably containing the very same PVC that's choking sea turtles—becomes a token in this meaningless game of moral superiority. "I don't flip records. I'm one of the good ones." Christ, it's like watching chimps fight over who gets to use the good stick for termite hunting, except the chimps have credit cards and Instagram accounts.
And then—oh, the fucking chef's kiss of it all—our hero buys the very record himself! The hypocrisy lands with the subtlety of a fucking meteorite obliterating the dinosaurs. "Don't buy this to sell it... so I can buy it instead." It's the moral equivalent of pushing someone out of the way of a falling piano so you can stand where they were, gazing up with a shit-eating grin until you become a cartoon pancake.
The Redemption That Changes Nothing
But wait! Hold your applause and prepare your heartstrings for plucking—our protagonist experiences that rarest of internet phenomena: self-reflection. After being digitally flogged by the faceless masses (whose approval he desperately sought while pretending not to), he returns the record to the shop with instructions worthy of a deathbed confession.
"Pass it on to someone who looks genuinely gassed to have found it." Translation: "Find someone who will worship at the altar of vinyl with the proper level of reverence, as determined by me, the record shop pope." It's like watching someone return a stolen wallet but instructing the police to make sure it goes to someone who really appreciates leather craftsmanship.
This redemption arc has all the substance of a fart in a hurricane. At the end of the day, another human will temporarily possess an object that will eventually disintegrate into the same cosmic dust as everything else. The record will spin, the needle will drop, and one day, long after we're all gone, the universe won't remember any of this shit—not the music, not the squabble, not the sanctimonious post-purchase regret.
Dumbass Decoder Ring™
You wanted to feel special about your hobby, so you cock-blocked a kid from buying a record because he wasn't going to appreciate it "correctly." 🎵 Then you bought it yourself because obviously YOUR reasons are pure as driven snow. ❄️ When the internet called you an asshole, you returned the record and posted proof like you deserve a fucking Medal of Honor. 🏅 In the end, you're all just monkeys fighting over shiny objects while the universe continues its cold expansion toward inevitable heat death. 💀 The real asshole was the validation we sought along the way. 🍑
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