M I SPY
FINDING A BEGINNER GUITAR IN LOWER MANHATTAN/HOBOKEN, N.J.
Editor’s Note: These store visits were conducted prior to nonessential businesses being shut down in New York City due to the coronavirus. I was texting a lady friend when the phone rang. The caller ID read “Chief Concern,” which is how I have the Chief entered in my contacts. (Don’t tell anyone, though; the Chief doesn’t know, and he has his ways of finding out, so it will have to be our little secret.) Of course I was annoyed by the interruption, but hey, the Chief’s calls mean more money in my pocket (although not as much as you’d expect for someone with my unique set of skills). I answered the call. The Chief’s gruff voice immediately blasted forth from my phone without so much as a greeting. “Spy, I need to send you on another assignment,” he said. “Since when are we close enough for you to just call me ‘Spy?’” I quipped in response. “Please refer to me by my proper designation, ‘MI Spy.’ Or if you’d prefer, ‘Grandmaster.’” “’Grandmaster?’” the Chief scoffed. “Grandmaster of screwing up, maybe. OK then, ‘MI Spy’ it is. I need you for a mission.” “I’d love to help you out, Chief, but I’m feeling kind of tired lately,” I replied. “It must be burnout. Maybe I should take a vacation with those big bucks you pay me.” “Burnout is definitely the right word to describe you,” the 28
Chief shot back. “You just spent two months in Chicago. Most of our agents would kill for an assignment like that. All you had to do was check out some music stores.” I brushed aside the Chief’s casual dismissal of my work. “How many years have I been doing this without a break, Chief?” I protested. “There are probably stores I’ve spied on that are up to their third generation of management by now.” But the Chief was having none of my protests. “The mission never stops, MI Spy. And we never sleep. Which brings me to your assignment: I need you to file another report on the MI retail scene in New York City.” “Fine, but my dating life comes first, Chief. And my shaken-not-stirred drinks.” “Spoken like a true professional, MI Spy,” the Chief groaned. “Just get me that report, and save the drinks and the dames for after you’ve filed.” It hadn’t been long since my last New York City mission. I had scoped out some stores in the city last year, but in order to protect my identity, I would have to choose some different targets this time around. My first thought was lower Manhattan, as in Greenwich Village or thereabouts. I selected three stores in the area, but needed a fourth, so I decided to check out one more store right across the Hudson River in Hoboken, N.J., as well. MAY 2020