I worked in a video game store during the PS2/3 days. I see a lady come into the video game store with her son.

Mother: “Hi, I’m looking for some games for my son. He’s made a list, and I want to get as many of them for him as I can.”

Me: “Sure thing, let’s see what we can do.”

It was obvious from the outset that this boy had some developmental issues, and communicating with him was noticeably slow.

Mother: “His biggest comfort these days comes from these games. I want him to have a safe space in them, if you know what I mean.”

I look at the list and address the boy directly.

Me: “Wow, you have some good taste! Some of these are remakes of Japanese classics, and others have some great stories. You’re an RPG fan, I see!”

The boy smiles and nods.

I spend the next half an hour either pulling the games off the shelves or finding them online and getting them delivered to our store for pickup on a later day. My manager pulls me aside as I go to the shelf to get another game.

Manager: “Hurry it up!”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Manager: “You’ve spent almost half an hour with those two!”

Me: “So? They’re customers, and I’m about to sell ten games.”

Manager: “None of them are pre-owned!”

For those who don’t know, when most video game chains sell a new game, a good portion of the money goes to the developer. When they sell a used/pre-owned game, they keep all of the money.

Me: “The boy’s tastes are quite niche. We don’t have any of them pre-owned, so I have to get them new.”

Manager: “Ha! Niche. That’s a funny way of saying r****ded games for the r****ded kid.”

I pause for a moment. This is around 2009, when that word is still being used way too often, but it’s definitely on the way out. I bite my tongue and remain civil.

Me: “Excuse me, [Manager], I’ve found the last game that boy was asking for.”

I finish ringing up all the games, still making conversation with both of them, and I apply a staff discount without telling them. The mother is surprised at the total, but doesn’t say anything as she pays.

I’ll never forget what happened next. I hand the games to the boy, and he hugs me. A real tight, meaningful hug full of joy. I hugged him back.

After those customers left, I walked over to the manager and handed him my name badge.

Manager: *Confused.* “Huh?”

Me: “The moment you called that gamer boy that word, I decided I was going to remain here precisely long enough to get him his games. I gave him my staff discount to cut your margins even tighter. I’m going to work somewhere else now.”

Manager: “Oh, come on! Because I said a word?”

Me: “Exactly. Bye now. Have fun closing tonight.”

He was not happy to suddenly have to close the store on a Friday night. I went home and spent my now-free-from-work weekend playing one of the classic Japanese RPG remasters the boy had bought (but I had been putting off playing), and had a great weekend.

I applied for a job at a smaller locally-owned video game store on Monday. When the owner asked me why I quit the chain store (he’d seen me working there before) I told him the story. He hired me and told me to spend as much time with passionate gamer customers as I wanted.

Customer: “I need to return this PS5 controller.”

Me: “What’s the reason for the return?”

Customer: “It’s haunted.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “It’s haunted. There are voices coming out of it.”

Me: “Voices coming out of, like, the speakers?”

Customer: “It has speakers?”

Me: “Yeah, right there. What game were you playing?”

Customer: “[Horror game].”

Me: “I think the game is using the controller to add extra immersive sound effects.”

Customer: “You sure?”

Me: “I’m surer of that than I am of your PS5 controller being haunted.”

Customer: “Hmm… okay.” *Leaves.*

Coworker: “So this guy hears voices coming out of his PS5 controller and instead of, like, Googling it, he goes straight to ‘haunted’ and wants to make it our problem? Like we got a Conjuring room in the back full of haunted videogame equipment?”

This is around the time the Nintendo DS was released with the Brain Training games. They were advertised as something older customers could use to keep their “minds sharp”.

An older customer has come in to buy the game.

Customer: “I don’t see the pen thing with the game.”

Me: “The stylus? That’s already built into the Nintendo DS.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want the Nintendo thing, I just want the game.”

Me: “Sir, the game won’t work without the Nintendo.”

Customer: “I used to work in sales! I know you’re trying to upsell; it’s not going to work.”

Me: “Sir, how are you expecting to be able to play this game?”

Customer: “I have a computer at home.”

Me: “It won’t work with a computer; it needs a Nintendo DS.”

Customer: “That’s what you want me to think! Just sell me the d*** game and stop trying to think you can fool me just because I’m old!”

I sell him the game, and he walks out with a smug look on his face.

Manager: “Well, I think we can all agree that he really needs that brain training!”

A guy comes in with a bag of old Switch games and starts pulling them out.

Customer: “Okay, so I’ll take twenty bucks for this one.”

Gets out another old game.

Customer: “Twenty-five for this one.”

After another game, I stop him:

Me: “Buddy, that isn’t how it works. I’m gonna scan them, the computer will tell me what it’s worth, and I’ll offer you cash or store credit.”

I scan the first one:

Me: “This will get you fifty cents.”

Customer: *Outraged.* “What? I spent fifty bucks on that!”

Me: “Yes, eight years ago.”

I scan the second one:

Me: “Yeah, this one is basically shovelware. The system doesn’t recognize it, so if you allow me to test it and make sure it works, I can only give you a cent for this.”

Customer: *Outraged further.* “You’re stealing from me!”

Me: “No, sir, you don’t have to sell these to us. There’s also a pawn shop a block down.”

Customer: “I know that! I need the money from these games to get back what I pawned over there.”

Back in my video game store days, I was working one of those ‘Call of Duty’ midnight launch events. We had about three-hundred people lined up outside. My boss was trying to give instructions to the customers using a small bullhorn that wasn’t very loud. I stepped in with my “mom voice” and while explaining how the lines would move. Two teenage boys standing near me start sniggering.

Teenage Boy #1: “Okay, moooooom!”

Teenage Boy #2: “Who invited this old lady?! It’s past her bedtime!”

Me: *Staring at them.* “You sound like the ones who are up past your bedtime, little boys.”

I try to continue to explain how things will work when we open, but then the boys start shouting over me, yelling the various slang names of women’s private body parts, getting increasingly more vulgar as they go.

I wasn’t particularly shocked or offended, but I also didn’t want them to get away with it. I looked at my manager, who wordlessly nodded that he approved of whatever it is I was about to do.

Me: “Okay, you two. Back of the line.”

The boys shut up simultaneously and immediately. It was almost as if it didn’t dawn on them that their actions would have consequences until that very moment.

Teenage Boy #1: “O…okay, we’ll be quiet.”

Me: “Oh, my sweet summer children. It’s cute you thought I was asking. No, my little hunny-buns, I was ordering. You’re both going to the back of the line. Right… now.”

These boys were maybe placed fifty-ish in a line of three-hundred, and they knew it. They looked around pleadingly at my manager, at the people in line ahead of them and behind them, and no one was sympathetic.

Teenage Boy #2: “You… you can’t do that.”

Me: “I think I can.”

Teenage Boy #2: “You can’t physically make us leave the line.”

Me: “Me? Maybe not. But you see the security guy at the door? I will tell him not to let you in. If you try to push in, the police will be called and arrest you for trespassing. Now I am still betting you boys have a pre-order for the game, so I am not telling you to leave… yet. But I am telling you to go to the back of the line. Maybe the extra time waiting will make you think about your behavior.”

Teenage Boy #1: “But… we’ve been here since nine! We have to be in the first hundred. We have to!”

I can’t remember exactly what it was, but for each of our stores, the first hundred customers got a special edition item in the game, or with the game, or something like that. I was aware of this as I was talking to the boys.

Me: “You lost that right when you disrespected me. Back of the line. I won’t ask again.”

The boys look around one more time, eyes pleading for someone, anyone, to step in and defend them. No dice. Then one of them said the one thing that made me remember this incident more than anything else.

Teenage Boy #1: “But… It’s just boys being boys!”

Me: “And this is a mom being a mom. Back… of… the… line!”

They went to the back. They still got their game, but their sense of arrogance was well and truly gone, and they completed their purchase quietly and sadly, minus the limited-edition special whatever it was they wanted so bad.