It would be nice to say there was a happy ending, but this was the decade in which the air traffic controllers' union — responsible for keeping people safe while they hurtle through the air in massive, gravity-defying machines — was dismantled. A college kid who looked unhappy amid racks of Rod Stewart LPs didn't stand a chance, no matter how skinny his tie or how high his hair. So, I set out to find a new job, though in retrospect Betamax repair probably wasn't the way to go.