Tales of the Pawn Shop

Missing from my LinkedIn profile is the most interesting job I ever had. I worked in a seedy pawn shop in Killeen, Texas in the early 1980s. Okay, it was actually ‘seedy-not seedy’ but that requires some explanation so bear with me.

For those not familiar, Killeen is a military town adjacent to recently re-named Fort Cavazos, but at the time was known as Fort Hood. My parents liked Central Texas and Killeen was convenient to the base for their retirement needs. They had a wide circle of friends who’d done the same so as the last kid in line, that’s where I grew up.

As you might imagine, unless you’re in the military, job prospects in a military town are limited, and at twenty years old, I didn’t have much going for me. Waiting tables, working for the phone or electric company, piecing together part-time retail jobs, were my only apparent options. I wasn’t a very good waitress, I couldn’t get on at the phone company (had to know someone who knew someone), and shuffling clothes from rack to rack in the junior’s department at Sears was an obvious dead-end so I found myself at Action Pawn.

Action Pawn is owned by an old Killeen family and still in business, having expanded over the years. The family also holds real estate and other interests. Killeen is one of those places where the haves-nots work for the haves.

I worked at the original location, near downtown and just down the street from the base, but our official moniker was Action Pawn #2. We affectionately called ourselves the older stepchild since the shiny new location across town was built for shopping with lots of open space, good lighting and gleaming countertops filled with the best wares. They became the premier location, and designated as Action Pawn #1. Our store was in a pre-WW2 era shopping strip, with single-row parking in front and packed to the gills with almost anything of any value, some questionable, arranged wherever it would fit.

We could have been seedy, but we weren’t. We cleaned the old shelves, floors and display counters relentlessly, until they gleamed. We were organized and efficient (it was our means of survival) and our beloved manager, Roy, who was related to the owners by marriage (see comment above), ran a tight ship. Most importantly, we made money. In order to maximize our strengths and mitigate our limitations, we divided the realm of major merchandise into specialties, with each one of us becoming an expert in our areas but all of us well versed in everything on offer.

The assistant manager, Dan (he even looked like Dan Blocker from Bonanza) was probably around 30 (I’m not sure I ever knew his age), married and had a young family. He was a true audiophile, and the stereo room was a place of technological wonder for its time. He could also fix anything, an important skill in that tired building.

Then there was TJ, short for Tamera Jill. She was a tall, cool blonde, around my age but seemed much older for her years and experience in the pawn business. She was also engaged to the manager at Action #3, which came with plenty of drama, and entertainment if you were outside looking in. She was unpredictable and had a mean streak, a trait I discovered the hard way the first time I won the monthly award for highest sales volume, just two months after I started working there. She was the queen bee of Action #2 and thought I should learn my place. I thought otherwise. TJ was the jewelry expert and in a wise decision on my part I opted to keep what I learned to myself, for the days she wasn’t working, and focus on cameras and guns.

Renate and I started on the same day. She was a gorgeous, red-haired German woman in her 30’s, married to a soldier who was a few years younger than she. Kind and thoughtful; I was grateful for a friend to lean on when TJ went off the rails. Renate specialized in housewares and the ornate German furniture and decorative items the soldiers brought back from their European tours. Dan took her under his wing and in time taught her everything he knew about stereo equipment. She was a quick study, and he was rightly impressed by his protégé.

Just about every business in a military town revolves around the pay-cycle of the military personnel and it has a particular impact on the pawn business. Paydays are the first and fifteenth of the month so the week before brought an influx of people pawning items in order to ‘make it’ to payday. Some of their stories were tragic, others a life lesson. We saw the same small appliances, wedding rings and turntables traded for grocery money, month after month. Payday, and the days immediately after, were filled with people picking up their items and purchasing new ones.

In between, we cleaned the store and restocked the shelves with forfeited items. This was called “PFI”, short for “Pulled from Inventory’ and pronounced “piffie” and required the basic supplies of a spray bottle of 409, a clean rag and a toothbrush. We would stand at the counter for hours, pulling items, cleaning, pricing and putting them out for sale. As you might imagine, Renate and I processed the most PFI’s collectively each month while TJ primped around arranging jewelry and complaining about her boyfriend’s ex-wife and child. TJ may, or may not, have had something to do with the divorce. My money’s firmly in one camp. They eventually married and divorced soon after. Go figure.

The loan amounts for most items were based on condition, inventory levels and resale value. Jewelry was a little more complicated as it began with the weight of the gold and the size, clarity and type of the gemstones, plus the cosmetic appeal. When an item was placed for sale, the original loan amount was noted using an alphabetic code on the sales sticker, so we knew how much wiggle room we had for negotiation. Most regular items had the same bottom dollar calculation method, and we had latitude within that window to determine both loans amounts and sales price. Specialty items and unique cases were decided by Roy and Dan, and occasionally TJ who considered herself management level. This was the pawn business in 1982, in a military town and that was never going to happen, but she continued to push against the glass ceiling we didn’t even know existed.  She didn’t wait for permission, and I have to say that I admired this about her.

Paydays were a whirlwind, and we were a well-oiled machine. We took turns between working the counter processing pickups, and the sales floor where merchandise flew off the shelves, almost on its own. The ramshackle appearance of our little store led people to believe that they were getting a bargain. They were, it was secondhand merchandise in good condition, but we were savvy and kept on top of both loan and resale values. As I said, we made money and lots of it.

For the most part, we had great customers, many who returned like clockwork to borrow and buy. We never had any serious trouble but every now and again Dan, who was built like a mountain, had to step in as bouncer. It never took long to evict the offending party, who knew better than to return. We weren’t in an overly dangerous area, but it wasn’t the best part of town. We never worked alone or left the store alone. We always had a capable escort. Dan was openly intimidating due to his size but there were also guns in the cash drawer and Roy was supposedly an expert shot. I never gave any of this a second thought, but you don’t when you’re young.

We met lots of interesting people and saw lots of interesting stuff. I’ll never forget the stuffed bobcat. Roy took pity on the guy who owned it the first time he brought it in, hard up and insisting he’d come back for it on payday. He was true to his word and returned many times thereafter. Roy was always concerned that one day the guy wouldn’t come back for it and Roy would have to buy the bobcat himself because he’d never be able to sell it for what he’d loaned on it. As far as I know the bobcat was never left behind.

One of the best parts of the job was the opportunity to buy stuff before it put out for sale. Every one of us always had our eye on an item in pawn, waiting for the 90-day window to transpire so we could buy it. We didn’t get an employee discount, per se, but Roy took into consideration the reduced overhead since we’d be buying it right out of pawn, and how hard we worked for our low pay.

I no longer own the Colt .38 revolver I bought the day after I turned 21 (and could legally buy a gun). That went to my brother once I grew up and realized I was a pacifist. I’m a good shot and I know how to handle a gun, but I never will again. I had a nice collection of Canon cameras and lenses, but I don’t even remember what happened to those once they became obsolete as did the Atari system and games, and hundreds of cassette tapes on which I spent my paycheck. I still have a few nice pieces of jewelry, antique wristwatches and an interesting pocket watch from the 1906 Grand Prix. I also have the jeweler’s loupe and gemstone measuring tool that I’ve held onto for sentimental reasons.

The most important thing I took away from Action Pawn #2 was a sense of confidence in myself that wasn’t there before. I was good at every aspect of this job, even the ones I didn’t like, and recognized for my intelligence and capable attitude. I could have made a life and career there, at least for a while if I accepted my place as a woman in that man’s world, which was something I didn’t ever think about at the time. A pretty young woman with a sweet demeanor was unexpected in the world of seedy pawn shops and appreciated by many of the equally young soldiers who were learning how to navigate a harsh world far from their home and families. They came to the pawn shop for monetary help but what they found with us was a group of people who listened to their stories, who honestly cared about them, and who did the best they could for them every visit. That’s the real reason we made money, despite our stepchild store status.

We were so much more than a seedy pawn shop. The five of us created a special place in time that impacted almost everyone who either existed within it, or passed through our doors looking for something they didn’t expect to find. I’ve thought about Renate, Dan, and even TJ over the years, hoping that they are all well and living happy lives.

Roy's gone now, but I'm using my space this week to offer thanks to him, for believing in a girl who had a lot to prove to herself, and for giving her the opportunity to do so.

Roy Conder Obituary - Killeen, TX (dignitymemorial.com)

If you enjoy my weekly column, would you please consider sharing by forwarding this email or the link to my site? The Mystic’s Parlour (the-mystics-parlour.ghost.io)

Your continued support is important to me, and your feedback is always welcome. I’d love to hear your stories if you’re inclined to share. You can contact me via email at themysticsparlour@gmail.com.