I’m in a popular gaming outlet. The cashier is talking to a kid who looks about nine or ten years old.

Cashier: “Sorry, can’t sell you that. That game is rated seventeen and up.”

Kid: “Oh, it’s for my cousin. I’m giving it to him as a gift.”

Cashier: “I said the exact same thing when I was your age and Mortal Kombat 3 came out. They didn’t believe me, either. Pick something else.”

Months later, I’m hanging around outside a mall. A girl who looks twelve or so approaches me.

Girl: “Excuse me, are you eighteen?”

I pull off my cap to reveal a badly receding hairline.

Me: “Don’t I wish! I’m not buying you cigarettes, though, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Girl: “No, no. [New Game] came out and I really want it, but they won’t sell it to me because it’s M-rated. Can you buy it for me?”

She is holding up a small wad of cash.

Me: “Listen. I did the exact same thing when I was a kid and they wouldn’t sell me a mature-rated game and my parents said no. I asked some random shmoe if he could run in and buy it for me, and I gave him the allowance money I’d been saving for months. The jerk went inside this exact same mall here and never came back out. Use your head! You have no idea who I am or who the next joker after me is.”

Girl: “Um… yeah, I guess I didn’t think of that.” *Shuffles away*

It sure is funny watching the next generation after you bump their noses in the same corners of the maze of life.

I own a game store where we sell trading cards, retro video games, etc. I’ve been at it for fifteen years now. One day, I have a group of people in the store. I can’t call them customers; they don’t buy anything, ever. There are two guys, each with a girl — girlfriends, spouses, relatives… unsure.

The ladies are just browsing and the guys are talking smack. One of the girls idly wonders aloud:

Lady: “I wonder which one is better — the [Console #1] or the [Console #2]?”

My go-to response when customers ask which console is “better” is to ask them what they want to play. The people idly asking are often really asking which is cooler or more fun to play, and my answer is always, “Well, what games do you like to play?”

One of the guys IMMEDIATELY pipes up, as though it was the dumbest question on the face of the planet.

Guy: “[Console #1]!”

He really treats her like crap. Now, this is about the time the [Console #1] Network has had a major security breach and a massive release of account information, and the guys are really grinding my gears, so I’ll admit, I’m kind of picking a fight, but I add my usual:

Me: “It really depends on what you like to play and how you like to play. Some people are really disappointed with [Console #1’s Company] right now over the server hack…”

We talk about that for a minute.

The guy who was snarky toward the gal turns to me.

Guy: “Well, if anyone tried to hack me, they’d be in for a world of trouble!”

Me: “Oh, yeah? And why is that?”

Guy: “I’ve got this malware that’ll set their computer on fire!”

Me: “Oh, really?”

Guy: “Yeah! And it’s so powerful, it’s illegal in forty-nine states — but not [Our State]! Know why?”

Me: “No, please, enlighten me.”

Guy: “Because I’m the one who made it!”

Judging by the litany of technobabble acronyms he had been throwing out earlier and a few choice remarks during his rant, I don’t think he could “code” his way out of a wet paper bag.

About once a week, I would pop into my local craft/game store. I wasn’t massively into the game top side of it, but I enjoyed the artistic side. I would get “commissions” from friends who wanted a piece painted a particular way. It was fun and it was like being paid to have a hobby. It was great.

The owner of the shop was a wonderful man. He was really patient and helped me find the materials I needed or recommended alternatives. He hadn’t been around the last few times; a younger guy was watching the shop, hiding toward the back.

I was shopping for some supplies but found the shelves oddly empty.

Me: “Hi, I’m looking for like a moss green. Do you have any?”

Sales Guy: “Ugh, greens are over there.”

Me: “I know, but the shelves are empty. That’s pretty unusual. Do you know when you will get more stock?”

Sales Guy: “I don’t know. I just do the sales.”

This was weird; they never run out completely. Even if they were restocking, the owner could find anything from the back in seconds.

Me: “Okay, I’ll try again tomorrow?”

He shrugged at me and I left. I came back a few days later and the shop was closed for lunch. The sign said they’d be back at 12:00, but it was nearly 1:00.

I came back the next week, and the shelves were even more empty and the shop was a bit of a mess. The sales guy was in his normal slumped position on a stool at the back of the shop. 

I didn’t bother asking him. I went to the shelf and found it in the same condition it had been in the first time I visited. I grabbed a feedback form and put down everything I’d seen.

I didn’t make it to the shop again for two more weeks. I was pleasantly surprised to see the owner there.

Me: “Oh, hi! Good to see you back.”

Owner: “Yeah, we had some issues with a staff member. But what can I do you for?”

Me: “Just looking to refill some supplies. Have you had a delivery?”

Owner: “Fully stocked and on the shelves. Listen, you know your stuff, right? I mean, no one I know spends as much time in the store or talking about the products as you do.”

Me: “I guess.”

Owner: “Fancy a job?”

Me: “Well, I’ve never worked in sales before.”

Owner: “It comes with a 20% employee discount.”

I took it! I’ve spent a year here so far. The owner has helped me all the way, and I get to spend even more time painting. Some of my pieces are on display and for sale in the shop!

This story is part of our Halfway-Through-2022 roundup!

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I help my uncle run his market stall. It’s very popular; he sells second-hand video games and consoles. Prices are better than most shops, and while the games are a little older, he knows his stuff and only buys the better titles.

A woman and her child come to the stall with a game in hand.

Customer: “My son bought this game the other day, and when he got it home, it was empty.”

Me: “Can I see the case?”

The case is for an eighteen-rated game. The boy looks fifteen at most. I know I didn’t serve him, and my uncle is very strict on this sort of thing. But maybe he got a friend to buy it for him.

Me: “Okay, I’m sorry this happened. Do you remember who served you?”

Customer’s Son: “I don’t know, a woman.”

There are no women that work here.

Me: “Okay, and when was this?”

Customer: “Can’t we hurry this up? He wants his game.”

Me: “Of course, but if I know when, I can find where the game has been put.”

This is a lie, but I must have told it convincingly.

Customer’s Son: “Er, Monday or Tuesday?”

Customer: “It was Monday, as I had my hair appointment. Can we have the game now, please?!”

Me: “Sure, do you have the receipt?”

Customer’s Son: “No, I lost it.”

Me: “Funny, I thought you were going to say that. Because there are no women that work here, and the cases on the shelves are empty because people steal them.”

Customer: “How dare you accuse my son?! I will call the police, the paper, I will make sure everyone knows what sort of—”

Me: “Oh, shut up. He stole it, and while he was standing there lying to the both of us, I found the video from Monday, proving he stole it.” *To him* “I’m not sure how you missed the signs that the cases are empty and the signs about the camera, but here we are.”

The customer tells her son off; mainly, it seems for embarrassing her and not actually for stealing. She turns back to me.

Customer: “Okay, so can I buy the game now?”

Me: “Sorry, it’s rated eighteen, and I know you’re buying it for a child.”

Customer: “It’s for me.”

Me: “I doubt that. Next, please.”

She made a scene, but being a marketplace, everyone just kind of ignored her or thought it was funny. My uncle’s only comment was that he wished he had been there to see it. Business is as busy as it ever has been.

When “Skyrim” originally came out, I was working in a video game shop.

Customer: “Can I get a copy of Skyrim, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re sold out.”

This was true except for a few preorder copies out back.

Customer: “What?! You must have more!”

I went and checked and came back.

Me: “No, I’m sorry. We’re out.”

He sulked off to look at other games in the shop.

Another guy came in who had preordered and asked for his copy. I took his details, and he’d already fully paid, so I went out to get his copy. I came out to hand it to him, and the first guy ran up yelling.

Customer: “You said there were none out back!”

Me: “That’s true; the only few left are preorders that have been fully paid for.”

I went to hand it to the customer who had bought it, and the first customer snatched it out of my hand and tried to bolt for the door.

Thankfully, a regular of mine — a big, muscly chap — had just walked in, heard me shout, got the idea of what was happening, and blocked the guy’s way. The customer looked up at him, and I ran up and tried to take the game back, but the guy held firm even though he wasn’t moving.

My regular leaned in and all but whispered:

Regular: “Don’t make me use my dragon shout on you.”

The customer dropped the game and bolted. I returned it to its owner and gave my regular a couple of extra special edition preorder freebies we had out back as a thanks.