Beyond the Porn Room

Beyond the Porn Room

Elle the Grandmaster Clerk

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goodbye	[Jul. 22nd, 2006\|10:39 pm]
During one of my last ventures to the video store, I checked the downstairs bathroom for the evidence from our "Fuck This Shit" party we had the last Sunday of our employment as the last of the cool crew of video clerks that will ever grace that store. One of the only good ideas the new owner had was putting the middle racks on wheels, it made it easier for us to make room. We sat around downstairs in a circle, drinking beer and smoking weed and cigarettes. I kept ashing into my beer on accident. We made fun of Wes when his girl kept calling getting mad at him for not coming home. Justin put "Let My Puppets Come" (puppet porn!) in the VCR and faced the TV towards the glass front window for passers by to gaze upon. We kept it really classy. The bottles were gone from the top of the bathroom toilet. I don't know what everyone else drank, but I brought the six pack of Guinness. But the epitath that Justin wrote -- THANKS FOR THE GOOD TIMES -- written in Cat's bright pink lipstick, was still on the mirror. Probably because there's no Windex down there. Just a toilet filled with fermented shit done by who knows who. People ask me about the video store once in awhile, but those sentiments will soon fade away. I will no longer be known as "The Video Store Girl". Maybe I'll be referred to as "American Apparel girl", or "Hey, I see you at the bar ALL THE TIME", but the request for deletion of late fees will no longer be a pick up line. Though maybe that was never a pick up line, just an honest request. Just as well. Thursday marked the two year anniversary of the beginning of a relationship gone to hell. I met one of my ex-boyfriends because of the video store. He's keeping my Playstation 2 and Grand Theft Auto, the newest one. I don't even recall the name anymore. I got my CD back from him, which was more valuable to me anyway. I was at a birthday party recently where I saw a the boy who reminded me of that whole debacle. He's a notorious shoplifter from my "other" job, and also the fool who approached me once at another party, this little fourteen year old drunk on whiskey, who asked, "Are you still seeing that writer?" "No," I said. "He cheated on me." "Yeah, he hooked up with my friend." His "friend" was a fifteen year old girl who would stalk my ex at the video store. Everyone thought I was off my rocker when I was convinced something was going on. "She's FIFTEEN," they'd tell me, as if that meant anything. It hurt me. I don't really get hurt by anything anymore because of that. We had a bench outside where we would take smoke breaks. It's delapidated now, the boards are breaking off of it. Sometimes we'd squeeze three at a time on that thing. One of us would be working, another clerk would come visit off the clock because we were all that close, and then a third one of us would walk by. Some of us rolled Bali Shag with filters. I smoked American Spirit lights. Sometimes Camels would make it into the mix. The manager smoked cloves. The new owner knows he fucked up firing us all. He's called us to ask us back, but we've all moved on. Different jobs. Different cities. New relationships. It's hard to believe this all happened just a few weeks ago. Sarah and Justin are moving in together. B is in love. I think L is, too, with the Louis Vuitton girl. C is with a new boy. Pat is moving to Portland. It's like we've all graduated from high school and we're all moving on in different directions.
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The End of an Era	[Jun. 17th, 2006\|11:54 pm]
I started working for the video store back in 2000. It was a difficult job to get because it was oh so indie, oh so insider, despite the fact that you got shit pay. I've met my closest friends at the video store, my first "love" was one of my co-workers, through the years it has definitely basically become my right arm. "You're the video store girl!" though irritating to hear, did hold a spot in my heart. We all got fired yesterday. All of us. The store is doing so badly that the owner had to let the entire staff go, put his house on the market, and is going to work the shifts, open to close. "If someone wants to stay and work open to close by themselves on the weekend, then I can keep them," the owner said. We are going to have an after hours party in a couple weeks, break in with booze and weed. The store just isn't the same anymore. Everything that was fun and quirky has been taken down. The monitors had cut-outs from magazines taped up. It's like a relationshp, and I'm just not in love anymore. I'm just in love with the memory.
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pity date part 2	[Jun. 14th, 2006\|06:43 pm]
Allow me to quote myself: "Sometimes it's not enough to say you're busy. Sometimes people really persist on that shit. They will ask your schedule and what you are doing between the time you get out of work and the time you have to go out with your friends and it's like WTF? This creepy guy who left a Valentine in my mailbox at home used to do this all the time." Once upon a time, there was this boy. This boy wanted to hang out. I was thinking, he just wants to hang out. We can just be friends. And for awhile it seemed that way. But then he started stalking me. He would find out when I would work at my jobs and then conveniently pass me on the street, which isn't rare in Ann Arbor, but he was obvious and creepy about it. And then he'd pretend he didn't see me, so it would seem like I'm the one who noticed him. I know because there was this time I avoided running into him by going into Underground Sounds for cover. I saw him walk past the window, but then he turned around and walked in the store and started looking at CDs, again pretending he didn't see me. It got to the point where whenever I saw him I would run! Then one time when I was running away he ran after me because he saw me drop my cigarettes!!!!!! OH! And then he would come into the video store when I was working, pretend he didn't see me on his way in, stay in the store for about an hour, check out, still pretending he doesn't know I'm behind the counter with his movie and his head bowed and shit and I'm like WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!! Anyway, finally the stalking stopped because he asked me when we could hang out again and I said, "I don't know." And he huffed and puffed away. Until one day in February I receive this hand written Valentine from him in my mailbox. Where I live. I puked. I ignored it and him, and he seemed to be leaving me alone, but then I saw him this weekend across the street. I started walking fast because he was crossing the street and I didn't want us to intersect, but he caught up with me. I told him I was in a hurry to buy a bottle of wine to brown bag to a party, but he kept talking to me. So I didn't look at him and answered him pissed off. I kept saying, "I'm busy. I work fulltime. I hang out with my plethora of friends. I'm really busy." Then he was asking me where my new job was and asking me where I lived, saying some shit about his job or whatever, I wasn't listening. He tried to find out where I was going and what party but I was vague. Then he asked a bunch of questions and managed to sneak in, "What's your least busy day?" And I said "Sunday" and he said, "Ok, we'll hang out then, you want to see a show?" and I said, "No." And he said, "Well we can just grab a drink between the times you have to do something." And I said "..." And then I said, "Fine." And then I regretted it because I just made a pity date and I was angry at myself all night and then at Sarah's party I saw the Swiss boy Jonas tried to hook me up with, and Swiss dude wound up fighting half the staff of Liberty Street Video and biting cheeks and falling through windows and the BBQ grill fell on me. The wine was tasty though. Then I complained about my pity date all day to everyone and everyone was really disappointed in me because several of my girl friends read that entry I wrote about saying no to dates you don't want to go on just because you are the Patron Saint of Sucking Unwated Dick and they actually appreciated it and didn't go on pity dates, a couple even cancelled pity dates, and here I was, a big fat hypocrite going out with some guy who basically tricked me into going out with him. So I arrived fifteen minutes late and told him I didn't really want to hang out, I was hanging out with other friends, and left. Seriously, I don't understand this. Why would you want to hang out with someone you have to TRICK into hanging out with you? Can't you tell when someone isn't interested? If someone is bolting at lightspeed when they see you, if they completely ignored a fucking Valentine's day card professing love with your phone number in it and never called... I mean... are those the actions of someone who wants to jump your bones? Really. The answer is no by the way. If someone wants to be with you they are going to motherfucking cancel plans to be with you. They may even deny themselves a little sleep if they are really busy, just to squeeze you in. And if someone likes you, they will definitely not deliver the "Oh, I don't really ever answer my phone..." line when you say, "I don't have your phone number."
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My movie audition.

[Jun. 14th, 2006|06:20 pm]

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discontent

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His hair was gray, his skin had liverspots. He handed me a bright green Raincheck that we hand out to customers when they are welcome to a free rental, usually because one of their rentals was defective.

As I slid the VHS copy of October Sky under the scanner, he said, "I still think something was wrong with that. The sound was bad."

"Wrong with what?" I asked.

"Walk the Line. When I played it I couldn't hear it. I think they go bad when you rent them out and you should replace them after a few views."

"Oh, well, let me check it in our player." I placed the DVD for Walk the Line into our Daewoo and hit the Close button. The screen lit up with previews and a Joaquin Phoenix menu screen. I skipped a few scenes until there was dialogue.

"It sounds fine," I said to him, squinting at the screen because I hadn't seen the movie yet. Sound spilled from our crappy little speakers quite nicely, for them to be crappy little speakers.

"I can't hear it," he said.

"Well, I can hear it and the volume isn't turned up, plus we don't have that great of a TV," I replied.

"I don't think that should matter."

"You don't think what should matter?"

"The TV, that shouldn't matter."

"Yeah, but I can hear it," I pointed out.

"I can't hear it."

"I can."

"Well, what are they saying?" he demanded.

Then he made me repeat everything that Johnny Cash was saying on the screen.

Then he repeated that he thought we should replace all our DVDs after five watches, which is ridiculous because rarely is a movie ever defective when a customer says it is, not unless they got warped in their car or trampled on, and also we are a motherfucking independent business, genius. Maybe you should pay for some damn movies so we won't go under instead of trying to get free ones all the time.

And, this is definitely mean-spirited, but I am a mean-spirit... but he was like 80 years old... ok ok, he was 63 years old. I looked it up in his customer information. Doesn't hearing tend to go after... I mean, I'm in my mid-twenties and I can't hear shit out of my right ear but I know that's from earwax.

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	[Jun. 14th, 2006\|06:19 pm]
We have a wall of movies that changes in theme every month. This month it is "Employee Picks". Cat was pissed because she didn't get a shelf since we put it up while she was giving out vaccinations in Honduras. But now Patrick has a "real job", so she will be able to take over his shelf after he leaves. My shelf has been through so many changes that I feel like I'm cheating. Today I replaced Wong Kar Wei's Chungking Express for My Neighbor Totoro, and the zombie film Dead Alive for One Day in September -- since everyone is so into that movie Munich. I heart Patrick. We went out to the bar one night and spoiled each other with drinks. We talked about our mutual friend, Putnam (who also used to work at the video store), and how Putnam doesn't return our phonecalls. This normally wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he has my Playstation 2 and my J Dilla CD. I love Cat. That's the thing about the video store, I've met my closest friends there, and probably 10 boyfriends. Sometimes I think it would be fun to have an arch-nemesis. What's funny about the Employee's Picks wall, is that nobody is renting from it. Someone actually rented one from mine, but I found out later the customer was my friend Jeff.
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THINK ABOUT IT!!!	[Apr. 16th, 2006\|07:56 pm]
"That was the best job I ever had," my friend Levi told me about the video store, a sentiment that he's shared with me often. "You can just stand there and goof off and watch movies all day. Yeah, it's shit pay, but it's so easy." Then, he proceeded to tell me the wisest thing I have heard about the video store thus far: "What I liked the most," he continued, seriously. "Was that if it comes down to it, you can basically just tell a customer to shut up and it wouldn't matter." And he was right. I completely forgot that at the video store, where we sell random bits of candy and get paid with such, we can pull out our "Sarcastic Bastard" card whenever we want to, and play it . It felt really good to call one of our customers an asshole. During my last shift, a customer, Mark G., came up to me to rent. I asked him for his phone number and identification, which is standard policy when someone wants to rent. He obliged, and I pulled his account up. Then I informed him we had to update his credit card information because it expired, and again, he handed over his card and everything was going smoothly. Me: Ok, that will be $4.51. Mark: drops three one dollar bills on the counter, slowly, deliberately There you go. Me: It's $4.51, though. Mark: Yeah, well, you get to make up rules, and I get to make up rules. You're only getting three dollars. Me: What? Mark: You make up rules asking me for ID, I get to make up rules and I'm only paying three dollars. Me: still smiling Well, you can't rent two movies then. He added more money on the counter and his rental agreement receipt printed out. I held on to his movies and change purposely until he signed his receipt. He held out his hand for his change, and I said curtly, "You have to sign that first." He signed it with a scowl on his face and then snapped, "THINK ABOUT IT. You make up rules, I MAKE UP RULES!" I handed him his shit and as he turned to leave he said, "Think about it!" again, so mustered up by the courage my friend Levi gave me, I shouted that he was an asshole and the customer beside me laughed. Dude, like I know it was not the most clever quip. It felt so good I almost threw a Blow Pop at him. I have had much, much worse happen to me on the job and I have never sworn at a customer or been anything more than stern. I've even had a customer put me down by saying, "Those of us with full time jobs don't have time to watch 6 movies" when I offered him our 6.6.6 deal. But after Levi basically unveiling this whole new viewpoint on customer service at the video store, I realized I don't have to be the same fucking doormat as at my other job, where I have to accept underwear returns with poopstains on them, which has happened. Don't worry, we didn't re-sell them, we damaged them out.
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Intro to Bollywood 101: Unwanted Information	[Apr. 15th, 2006\|11:26 pm]
There's this customer at work (at my video store job), "Asoka", who comes in and likes to talk to the employees about Bollywood. He's a middle aged man with gray woven in his dreadlocks, and works as a chef at one of the upscale restaurants here. When I say that Asoka likes to talk to us employees about Bollywood, I don't think I can actually stress it enough how passionate and well informed he is on the genre, the actors, the actresses, the private lives of the actors and actresses, the political aspects of films there, the music, the costumes... and none of us are interested. But we all nod and smile because he's just so into it that we don't have the heart to tell him, "Dude, chill out..." I think I smiled and nodded a bit too much because all of a sudden he's buying me bootleg movies and burning me CDs of the soundtracks. He even stood in front of me at the counter yesterday at work and flipped through some Bollywood magazine page by page and gave me information on each and every person in it. I thought to myself, "Hey, Elle, if you have to listen to this, you might as well flip it into a conversation that you might find interesting." So I tried to spin it more around Indian culture and gender relations, and how homosexuality is viewed, and what sort of movies have tried to challenge it. Granted I had to wade through a lot of shit to find some diamonds. So... then he tells me, "I have a lot of this stuff at home, but I don't like loaning out my DVDs, I'd be more than happy to watch a DVD with you, and maybe grab some Indian food while we're at it." I'm not sure how to take this, because I don't want to read into it as him hitting on me. He talks to everyone about Bollywood, and he's probably just so into it that he wants to convert everyone from Hollywood to Bollywood. "They remake Hollywood films," he informed me excitedly. "I have to admit I like their remakes better." Putnam calls it 'Boringwood'. I will admit this, if you want to feed me the "Don't knock it if you haven't tried it" dish, I won't know how to respond. But I do know I haven't tried a full frontal lobotomy either.
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Happy Spring Forward.	[Apr. 3rd, 2006\|01:04 am]
For someone who only works at the video store once a week, I am in here multiple times everyday. One could survive here for... perhaps a week, possibly six months, but that's only if you eat pretzels and drink Jones Soda in moderation. You would also have to bathe using a sink and Dial anti-bacterial hand soap. Sometimes, we come in after hours and sober up before driving home. A mouse used to live here, but Cat found his dead body by the UK (and Ireland)section. My friend Robin has a nicer set up because at her boutique, they have a fully stocked bar and a fridge full of snacks. I mention this because awhile ago, Putnam and I noticed that there was a door ajar near the ceiling above the Martial Arts section. It looked like a place for storage, but it blended in withe walls in such a way that you could go your entire life without knowing it was there. Curious, we took the ladder from the bathroom and peeked inside. It was a very large space, big enough for a six person party, if everyone were to sit down or have an orgy on their backs. It looked as if former employees had gotten that same idea, since there was a blanket and soda bottles strewn inside. It would be a nice hideaway from the police, if they ever came to raid. I am actually in the video store now because my good friend Cat is working. She is calling the "late list". We are not supposed to say the title of the movie the person has on their voicemail because it can break up marriages, which is what happened once. Someone had gay porn checked out and his wife was furious when she got the message. "I know I'm not supposed to say the title," Cat told me. "But sometimes the movies are so funny that I have to! Dracula 2000 is thirteen days late!" Invalid video URL.
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	[Apr. 1st, 2006\|08:36 pm]
Yesterday, I worked the most amount of hours in a row that is possible for me to work. I call it "double shifting". But more appropriately, it should be called "being double fisted". I wake up at 7:30am, actually get out of my bed at around 9:00am, usually delayed by bouts of fervent masturbation (because that's usually the most interesting thing that will happen to me that day), thoughts in rapid-fire of what I am going to wear, or my quiet and desperate attempts at falling back into a half-sleep state. I work at American Apparel until 5, and then work at the video store from 5pm until midnight. Jansen once told me that when I'm stressed, I act like I'm functioning on a very low dose of LSD. Strangers, customers... friends kept commenting: "Are you okay? You look sad." "You look tired." "Are you upset?" "I hope you feel better." The only compliment was paid to me by Whitney: "Your skin looks really good."
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"Custies"	[Mar. 28th, 2006\|11:59 am]
I wish our stupid customers at American Apparel were stupid in a more interesting way. The stupid customers at the video store have better stories. Like the guy who tore apart our ficus plant because we wouldn't give him a refund on this porno he rented, even though it played perfectly on our DVD player. He tore apart our plant. OUR PLANT. Then our manager took the branch the customer ripped out and chased him out the store with it while calling the cops. That customer is one of two people in our town that look like they shot themselves in the face. This guy actually did, and survived. The other guy has cancer that eats away at the center of his face and he often holds a sign up outside our store asking people for $20. I try not to be an annoying customer wherever I go. This is usually accomplished by leaving a 25 percent tip or higher. I don't work at places where we accept tips. But one time a customer at the video store left behind his copper bowl filled with change. It got left on the counter and people started leaving tips in it. My co-worker, Brooke, wound up buying a pack of Basics with the tip money. Basics are cigarettes, by the way. Asics are running shoes. The video store is next door to an atheltic shoe store, and sometimes when we sit outside on the bench for a smoke break we watch people trotting by in their business suits with New Balances on. I think that letting people try on shoes and then allowing them to actually jog in them before purchase is gross.
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Want some coke with that?	[Mar. 27th, 2006\|06:50 pm]
Recently, our little video store got sold to a new owner. He has very poor graphic design skills and his breath is reminiscent of old feet. He seems alright. He changed the store hours to close earlier because he doesn't like the idea of us walking home so late at night. He even walked me to a dive bar once. He looks like he gives toothy head, his teeth are so big. He also looks like he belongs in the movie Simple Plan. He put together a survey for our customers asking for suggestions and ideas for improvement. He also asked if we should rent out audiobooks. Everyone said no. Call me crazy, but I thought it was funny he asked if we should rent out audiobooks and not videogames. Our old owner was a crazy, psycho cokehead. Claire told me that when she worked there back in '96, the old owner offered her an 8 Ball of coke. "I'm trying not to use anymore," L said. "You can just have this." !?! Her husband (now ex-husband) was a fuckin' molester. "I'm hung like a donkey," he told me once in his thick Scottish accent, swinging his fist between his legs. "I'll fuck you all night." He'd always smack the girls' asses. He propositioned me and another girl there for a threesome. He told Putnam during the employee party, "I'm gonna fuck the both of them tonight." There's less drama now. The only video store drama seems to happen at the bar now, when guys use the "video store girl" pick up line on me, or try to woo me into deleting late fees with a Pabst Blue Ribbon. I tend to scream, "DO I FUCKING HAVE A COUNTER ATTACHED TO MY HIP?" The other night, Levi said that he liked how you could ultimately tell a customer at the video store to shut up, if it came down to it.
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Granny Porn	[Nov. 29th, 2005\|11:19 am]
I have to type this really fast cuz the lady is still here in the store, but this bag lady came in (i'm not a bag lady, she says, even though she has three plastic bags filled and one Whole Foods paper bag filled and she always has them with her) and she asks me (after walking in, mind you): "are you open?" Me: Yeah. She: Oh, cause your coat is on the counter, I thought you might be closed. Me: ??? No we're open. She: Is that your adult section back there? points at the section labeled, blatantly, ADULT Me: Yes She: Can I go back there? Me: Yes, as long as you're over 18. She: I'm 57. Me: Then it's fine. She: I like to look at the pictures. Me: That's fine, go for it. (please go) She: I'm highly erotic. Me: Ok. She: Actually I'm a nude model and I do pornography so I like to look at pictures to see how I'm doing. Me: ... She: I think I'm doing pretty well. I like to compare my poses. Me: ... She: So it's ok if I go back there? Me: Yeah (GO!!!) Later (she actually came up to me as I was typing this but our mouse sucks so I couldn't get out of the screen): She: Those pictures seem pretty outdated as far as costumes and hairdos Me: Oh She: Who do I speak to about that? do you update it? Me: Yeah, we put a bunch of new stuff out. She: I want to interview for one of those ads. Me: I don't think we can help you. We can tell you ourdistributor. She: Ok. I think I'll do that Me: Don't talk to me, though. Talk to our manager. Haha. Poor manager Jeff. Then she left. I do want to say that I try not to make anyone feel uncomfortable renting porn as we are probably one of the only rental places anywhere nearby that has porn and uncensored versions of movies. Plus people shouldn't feel badly. It just gets weird when people ask me out as they are renting Asian porn? But that's a tangent.
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"You're the video store girl"

[Nov. 6th, 2005|01:33 pm]

[	Current Mood	\|	annoyed	]
[	Current Music	\|	Last Night a DJ saved my life	]

I got a new job. I help manage a douchebag retail store. I mean, it's great because it's "sweatshop free" and stuff, and there's porno all over the walls. But it's annoying in a way that's not endearing at all, the way the annoying customers at the video store are endearing because they are so fun to make fun of.

But despite the fact that this new job pays me twice as much as the video store and I get health insurance, I could not fully quit my video store clerkdom. So I work at the video store once a week.

I was at the 8 Ball (this seedy dive bar that smells like cigarettes doused in urine) on Halloween night ($1.75 vodka drinks!), with my friends Derek and Tarin, and I met this guy who asked me what I've been up to since I left school.

"Working at a video store," I said.

"I worked at a video store, too," he replied.

I rolled the imaginary eyes in the back of my head. Blockbuster, I bet. So, almost snobbily (if that's even a word), I asked, "Was it independent?"

And he went on to tell me how he worked at a video rental store in New York that pretty much beat mine to a pulp in its indie-ness. "Yeah, it was owned by this Korean guy who ran a laundry. He paid us 6 bucks under the table and the movies were organized by director. When it went out of business he sold all the movies by weight, and all these obscure films went for $1.50."

Needless to say, that shut me up.

I used to always be called "Video Store Girl" on the street. So one day, this guy rode past me on his bike and then stopped. "Hey... don't you work at..."

I looked at him, trying to recognize what kind of video renter he was. Porn guy? Extreme Asia? Godard?

His sentenced finished, "... American Apparel?"

Disappointed at my new affiliation, I nodded.

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How about you shoot some change up your ass?	[Mar. 3rd, 2005\|01:41 am]
The video store is a funny little place. Yesterday, Brooke and I were working and this guy mentioned how he was moving to Chicago in a couple of days. He was a greasy and sleazy looking individual with round cheeks. But when I heard "Chicago", I couldn't help but exclaim: "I'm moving to Chicago, too!" And, before I could manage any defense mechanism of any sort, he grabbed my arm, spun me around the counter with a flourish, hugged me, jumped up and down AND KISSED MY NECK!!!! Paralyzed by horror, I could not react. His hand also went up the side of my shirt. But that is not why the video store is a funny little place. That is actually why the video store can be a really creepy gross place sometimes. There are lots of stories about the video store that I have failed to record the past few months because I could not think of any code names for my co-workers.
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I'm not kissing your celebrity ass	[Dec. 16th, 2004\|08:18 am]
Some people make such a big deal about this guy, DR, who rents from our store who put together this indie magazine called Found. He's an interesting fellow and he talks on NPR a lot. What he does is pretty cool, but man does he suck as a patron at the video store. So he comes up to me, three minutes before we close, and I start the transaction. He's got those headphones attached to his cell phone, and all of a sudden he starts talking to someone while I'm trying to ring him up. That's just rude in general, but then he gives me the "one moment" gesture??!! Motherfucker! He's doing this while there's a LINE right when we're about to close! Then he tells me, "That's the Big 10 Burrito guys. I wanted to see how long I could put them on hold and I had them on hold for 19 minutes and 57 seconds without them hanging up!" Fucker. Ok, so maybe he can pull that rude shit on them, but I ain't havin' it. When I pull up his account, of course "FOUND GUY" is flashing in his customer notes. And it turns out he has a $30 late fee on his account. Elle: You have a $30 late fee. DR: Do I have to pay it now? Elle: I don't know if the computer is going to let me rent to you. (looking at his account) Well, technically, you're supposed to pay at least $20 of it, but how about you pay $3.49 now? (this isn't me making a special exception for him, it's something I would do for any customer) DR: No, I'm just uh, gonna talk to your manager. What's his name? Elle: Joe. DR: Yeah, I'm just gonna talk to him about it. Elle: (stares at him blankly) DR: So just go ahead and ring me up. Customer in line behind him (drunkenly speaking to me): NO! NO... YOU CAN'T TREAT HIM LIKE THAT. He's a local landmark!!! Elle: (shoots him a look) DR: Oh, hey thanks man, I appreciate that. (obviously loving the ass kissing) Elle (under breath): I'm not being rude, it's just our fucking policy. (realizes that for some reason the computer will let him check out movies even though he has surpassed the maximum allowed to rent) Ok, it's $3.49. DR: For the late fee? Elle: No, altogether. DR: Oh, THANKS for letting me do that. (like I'm the one who did him a favor, because I didn't, some other ass-kissing employee bugged his account so he gets treated all special and shit) Then after DR's transaction is over, the drunk customer behind him starts drunkenly talking to my co-worker about how he doesn't want to rent but is curious about our rental policy. "Ok, how about your adult films, does that get included in the 6 movie deal?" Congratulations, DR. That's who had your back, you pretentious fuck.
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How to tell if it's me behind the counter	[Dec. 14th, 2004\|02:36 am]
1. I am eating expired Jay's potato chips. 2. I forget if I asked you whether or not you wanted a bag, and if you answer, I'll forget what your answer is, because I am so disassociated from my job that it makes me have extremely short term memory loss. 3. You are unable to charm your way out of paying your late fees. 4. It takes me a moment to speak after I answer the phone because I have to remember where I am first.
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