When I left cruise ships in 2000, I brought back a collection of about 100 DVDs I had picked up in the US and other faraway lands. I felt a little like a Bringer of Fire to our Hominid Ancestry. Of course, this wore off quickly as DVDs started trickling over to the UK.
I got a Christmas job in MVC while I tried to figure out how to best put to use skills that involved dressing up as pirate and wearing a burnt cork moustache, eyeballing 1000's of negatives on a Durst 5000, drinking 2 litres of Vodka every 24-hour period and having sex with anything that moved (and quite a few things that didn't, as well). During my first week in this new, slightly less-exciting job I fell into discussion with a character who had learned that I had a number of Stanley Kubrick films. He was initially enthused and adamant that he wanted to see A Clockwork Orange. I was on the verge of lending it to him when he asked if it he soundtrack was in stereo. I said it was not and he said that in that case he would not bother since he was not going to waste his time watching a film with a soundtrack in mono. It had not even registered with me that this was an issue; I was still entranced by the super quality of the picture. Anyway, he left (with a puzzlingly victorious air about him) and so I thought him harmless, if a little sad.
A year or so later, with an MBA under my belt, but having still failed to locate an employer who valued the ability to judge ambient light levels without the aid of a light meter, operate two minilabs simultaneously whilst drunk and smoking (me, not the minilabs), and to terrorise overweight Americans whilst dressed as a Mexican Bandit; I went to work at the London Camera Exchange. Digital Photography was still fairly new and exciting and we had a crew of Regular Visitors, who were either pipe-smoking, cardiganned 35mm Flat Earthers or wide-eyed Early Adopters who would salivate over every new digital offering and come in hourly to ask when the new Minolta Dimage A1 was coming in. In addition to these largely inoffensive types, we would also get harangued by a number of individuals who seemed to share the following characteristics:
Gore Tex clothing
Hiking boots
Long woolly socks pulled over their Gore Tex trousers
Bicycle clips
Beards
Rucksacks
Unkempt hair
Bad breath
Fogged and greasy spectacles
This lot would generally send us scrambling for the stairs that led to the comparative safety of our dingy basement office. Last person left standing would have to deal with the twit. Generally the conversation would consist of the visitor asking a series of questions, but without listening to the answers. Should the unlucky sales assistant hesitate for a nano-second, the twit would pounce gleefully and ANSWER THE QUESTION FOR HIM. So the whole exercise was simply to establish the superiority of twit over sales advisor. And I should point out at this stage, that we were not on commission at LCE, and were all pretty knowledgable and well informed about our products.
On one occasion we had a Super Twit who was demanding the most intricate and technically specific detail, such as who had made the 'chip' or CCD that was the camera's digital sensor (effectively the 'negative' onto which light would fall). When my colleague told him it was made by Toshiba, the twit laughed in derision and walked out, leaving our shop sweeter-smelling and my colleague fuming.
But not once did I see a photograph that any of these characters had taken. NOT ONCE. They all seemed to be more interested in the acquisition of the Latest, Most Advanced Thing; but clearly had little or no intention of actually using it as, other than as some kind of twits's conversation piece with other like-minded twits.
For those of you who are wondering what on earth I am going on about, it is simply this: the DVD Guy and the Camera Guy were basically the same person. And here in our little world of HiFi, peppered amongst the largely intelligent, good looking and sexually active people (who certainly include those in THIS thread) are the equivalents of the DVD Guy and the Camera Guy, who care little or not at all for music, but only for the kit that reproduces it.
And I think that is harmless, if a little sad.