I used to take the vacuum tubes (valves in the UK) to the drug store to use their big red tube tester. It had rows of sockets of varied pin configuration, including one with an umbilical to attach to the top of a particular type. You’d let the tube warm up and glow orange, then push the TEST button and the big potentiometer needle would swing to green for Good, yellow for Weak, or red for Replace. The druggist would open the front of the machine with a key to reveal shelves of RCA, GE, and Westinghouse tubes (I think) in printed cardboard boxes. My parent’s blond wood Emerson console only needed a tube or two replaced once in its lifetime. I knew it was time to test them because the volume faded to nothing after it played just a moment or two of the radio or a record.
They also had a soda fountain, staffed by the pharmacist’s wife. I once went in with apple-cheeked Carol Sobelsohn from fifth grade and ordered a lime rickey (soda water with bright green lime syrup). Just one. I wasn’t made of money. I requested “two straws, and no comments”. I was a precocious and obnoxious, quite the combination.