Help you help me.

Retail is a merciless soul drainer. Having not worked a day of retail in over 10 years, I thought it might be fun to take a part-time job this holiday season. A proverbial "hoot" if you will. But, my accepting a position at a music and movie store ultimately put me out of the spirit.

So, now that Christmas is winding down from it's family-fueled rocket road trip of a frenzy, I can look back fondly on the last few months... laugh nervously and change the subject.

Seriously, how about:


• The customer who attempts to purchase every movie he's ever seen, all in one trip. And purchases vaguely. "Do you have this one dvd...I must've been 7 or so... only saw a little of it, because we were at the drive-in and Dad made me lay down in the back seat because of the scary parts...but there was this giant radioactive dog...it was really bad, but eh, I've gotta own it...and while you're looking for that one, what about the movie with that one guy..."
  
  Similarly:
  
• The customer who expects the 17 year old girl at the counter to be a walking IMDB. "Now, maybe I saw this movie when I was a kid, or maybe I just dreamed it happened. But there's this caveman...and he's got this magic horse..." I wish we could just hum movie plotlines.
  
  
• The guy and his kids, who stand mid-aisle and watch all of the in-store playing of "Shrek" or "Wizard Of Oz", from mid-film until the credits. This move would have saved me so much money on girlfriends in college, had I thought to make that the date. (Minus the awkward fumbling and apologetic PDA, of course. They frown on that in the Disney section, apparently.)
  
  
• The trench-coat wearing, patchouli reeking, tri-color-haired guy, who erroneously believes (through apparent character assessment) I share his love of Mexican horror films. And quit trying to turn me onto whatever obscure film by Antonio Blavazzablah blah you once saw at 3am on a UHF fuzzy-pictured knob-dial TV. Please...I'll not be upstaged in dispensing the irrelevant non-sequiters and useless knowledge, thank you.
  
  
• Standing mid-aisle, the customer who described to me the ending of a movie, capping with the phrase "...and then he gives her The Johnson." Additional acknowledgement for accompanying thrusting motion, bonus points for the use of both hands while said gesture is re-enacted. His gestures. Not mine.
  
  
• The hipster kids who debate loudly in the store, gesticulating to no one in particular. To impress us all with their knowledge of Godard or Truffaut. And then they buy "Death to Smoochy." In full screen no less. Disgrace.
  
  
• The girl professing her love of old movies. "You know, like from the mid-90's. "
  
  
• The customer who tells me how much she used to love when her mom played Nine Inch Nails...on their way to KINDERGARTEN. How old did I feel.
  
  
• The customer who lingers amongst the "late night" (read: pseudo adult cheapo Skinemax) titles, while I'm cleaning shelves. He leaves, comes back 10 minutes later, sees I'm still there, and then pretends to be interested in the adjourning music section before making the circuit again. I purposely keep cleaning long after I've finished, and just for added irritation, ask multiple times if I can help "find what you're looking for." I can be a real jerk sometimes. And I need to watch myself with that phrase. Lots of misunderstandings.
  
  
• How many times did I want to say, "No, I'm sorry. I can't possibly sell you this movie/ cd. I am putting my integrity and yours at risk, and I'm just gonna have to say no." How "High Fidelity" of me.

Minnimum wage for maximum joy.