Video store memoirs - part one

This one is a bit of an epic, so if you've got a short attention span look away now...

In my younger years I fancied myself as the next Quentin Tarantino, despite my complete lack of discernible talent, and thought that some day I would write the next great indie film masterpiece and all would be good in the world. But if I couldn't do that I would at least work in my chosen profession, the one I spent learning during my time at University.

But, before that, and to earn extra cash, I took a job in a video rental shop, as any good Tarantino wannabe should do.

It was a big chain, but despite this I thought I would be able to find plenty of quality on the shelves, recommend them to customers and hopefully enrich their lives and gain a few friends in the process.

It was one the worst years of my life.

During this year, I was threatened with murder...twice, my brother's car was stolen (after I had taken it to work), I was moved from one store to another one because of my general lack of diplomacy and customer skills, often woken in the middle of the night because the burglar alarms failed and had to drive back to work to sort it out, I had a boss who stole from the tills but not enough evidence to prove it and quite possibly the worst customer base you would ever want to meet.

Thick as pigshit doesn't even begin to describe how lacking in basic intelligence many of these people were. Not all the customers were bad, in fact many were perfectly intelligent and very pleasant, but there were a large minority who had barely progressed beyond a cro-magnon state. A number of things spring to mind but I will describe a few. Firstly, the Jonny Mnemonic incident.

Jonny Mnemonic, for those unfamiliar with it, was an abysmal cyber-punk film based upon work by author William Gibson and starring an abject Keanu Reeves. This film did more to confuse customers than any other. I'd say at least 3 in 5 were unable to pronounce it properly. One man came into the shop, dragging his knuckles across the floor, took one look at the cover and said, "Er, mate, can I have Jonny Men...Maman. Jonny Menen...Monem...Nama. Jonny Manana,' before bellowing angrily, "Just give me that fucking Keanu Reeves film!"

"Oh, you mean Jonny Mnemonic?" pronounced Ne-mon-ick!

"Oh, a fucking clever cunt, aren't we?" was his rhetorical response.

"Not really," I said.

"Which is why you're working behind the counter of this fucking store, isn't it?"

Oh, how I laughed when I tore up his membership in front of his eyes.

He threatened to beat me like a woman.

I was tempted to ask whether he meant to beat me like I was a woman or beat me like he was a woman.

***

Another prime, though more harmless example, was a customer who came in and said, "Do you have that film with Tim Robbins in. Oh, er, yeah, The Crankshaft Deception!"

"You mean the Shawshank Redemption?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Sorry, my mistake!"

***

Another tale of woe was a customer who demanded his money back because I had recommended Twelve Monkeys and he had proceeded to rent it.

"Why do you want your money back?"

"Because it was shit. I didn't understand it."

"I followed it perfectly fine. However, you watched it all, right?"

"Right. Twice."

"Well then, you're not getting your money back. We don't give refunds because you don't like films."

"And it was broken too!"

"What, after you watched it twice?"

***

Then there was the customer who brought back a film I had recommended, within an hour of taking it out of the store, and practically thrown it at me with the snort of derision, "I'm not watching this shit."

"Why not?"

"It's got fucking subtitles. I don't do foreign films. Give me my fucking money back."

I was so appalled I actually did give him his money back.

The film he borrowed was Das Boot, one of the finest anti-war films ever made...