Life in a Bike Shop

Understanding That You Don’t Know Shit And Thriving

I don’t know it all as it pertains to bikes, women, beer; fuck, I’m still working on figuring out myself. I am functioning at a slightly higher level than your common ariolimax californicus aka “banana slug”. Slugs and service managers are the vuclanized glue/icky slime that binds the fabric of America together.

In most pursuits, we all know what we know and then maybe a little more. What those who tend to succeed understand is that, knowing too much and knowing enough tend to yield similar returns. Surrounding yourself with complimentary pieces is not only the wise way to get business done, but also lessens greatly the need to want to shoot innocent (and not so innocent) people in the face. In these days and times such displays of malcontent are frowned upon. Major news outlets eat that shit up, but shooting people in the face in general is bad for business. Finding good help without having a rep as a bike shop where people get shot in the face is hard enough in the best of markets.

Individual knowledge is just one part of what it takes to be successful in the bike shop biz. The collective experience of the group is what really makes a good shop, great and a service manager sane.

Musical Selections

“You just don’t expect to hear this type of music in a bike shop.” What the fuck is that? If you have a problem with Doris Day, we may not be the service department for you. We happen to have a very eclectic taste in music. Everything from “post-industrial Christian death metal, to ska-meringue, to country heartbreak-trap to the smooth and sultry sounds of the Jim Crow era. We mix it up. No standard faire retail selections here or traditional service department staples. We do on occasion play the Black Keys as we are contractually obligated to do so by the masons. When they’re not on that whole world domination/illuminati kick, they do appreciate systematically toppling strategic KOM Strava segments and ridding the world of those high cadence “Nancy-boy’s”.

TLC

“My bike needs a little tlc, you know a little tender loving care?” No shit on both counts. I can see that and I know what the acronym “tlc” stands for. This dumb look on my face is just a look. What I don’t see is a case of beer and a compelling enough reason as to why I should break away from from my xxx-rated match of “Fucked Up Words With Friends” to assist you. Alas it is my responsibility to help ensure that your time spent on the bike is as pleasant as possible.
So your GT mountain bike spent time in Syria infiltrating ISIS? Didn’t play out well? You can’t go over there with bean pies and a Final Call and think that you’ll be accepted. Wrong Muslims entirely, though I’m sure the pies were appreciated. Caliphate or not, everybody knows that bean pies are the shit.