I used to work at Blockbuster. When VHS gave way to DVD, we had a slew of customers who thought they were being smart by renting a movie, copying it at home, claiming it didn’t work, and trying to get a free rental.

In these instances, we would say:

Me: “Sorry, sir, we can only allow you to rent the same movie again. We can’t rent you another movie.”

Customer: “But it didn’t work!”

Me: “And we apologize. You can rent the same movie again for no extra charge, with an extended rental period.”

Customer: “Why?!”

Me: “To discourage video piracy. Sir, this was also our policy with VHS. It hasn’t changed now that we have DVDs.”

This particular customer seemed extra upset by this, but I didn’t know how far he would take it until he went the extra mile and actually scratched the heck out of every DVD he would rent. He would always blame it on the person who rented it beforehand and kept making remarks like “Oh, you must be running out of copies of this movie, maybe you should rent me another title?” 

Little did he know, we have a record of the number of times the particular copy had been rented before, and his was brand new. He didn’t appreciate my sleuth work or that we charged him to replace it. 

I’m sure he’s somewhere thinking he got the last laugh when we closed down. 

Related:
Blockbusted

It was the summer of ‘98 or ‘99, and I was thirteen years old in the Sega Genesis section of the video game aisle of Blockbusters video trying to work out if I had enough pocket money to get a three-day rental on a game and still have enough to buy at least 12 AA batteries (I never owned a Genesis, but the Christmas before my parents had gotten my brother and me a Nomad to share, Sega’s handheld that could play Genesis games on 6AAs for about three hours before running out of juice).

So here I am, crouched down at the bottom shelf trying to guess which games had the least on-screen text (the display on the Nomad was terrible with text), when some middle-aged dude saunters up to me and asks:

Customer: “Hey, does the tape version of Titanic show Kate Winslet’s t**s?”

Now there are two pieces of context I should provide before I continue. First, that over the summers I volunteered at a local science museum that had a “Blockbuster” IMAX theater.

Our uniform (which I was wearing) consisted of a collared polo shirt with the museum’s logo and “Blockbuster IMAX” in embroidered yellow over the right side of the chest, as well as a belt and khakis. How this man saw the logo, while I was squatting down in front of the bottom shelf, is beyond me, but it was in the same location as the yellow Blockbuster ticket logo on the video store employees’ shirts.

Me: “Sorry, I haven’t seen it.”

A lie, but what thirteen-year-old is comfortable talking about nude scenes with some sleazy old dude?

Customer: “Ain’t that your job? Go ask your manager if you don’t know.”

This was followed by the phlegmy equivalent of a hyuck-hyuck laugh that I can’t manage to reproduce in text. Think Goofy’s “ah-hyuck”, if Goofy were a chain smoker.

Me: “Oh. Sorry. I don’t work here. I’m just—”

Customer: “—You’re wearing a Blockbuster’s work shirt in Blockbuster. Don’t you p*** on my boots and tell me it’s raining; go get your manager.”

Me: “No, see, it’s for the science museum—”

Customer: “Manager!”

This was not shouted at me but bellowed into the air like someone trying to summon security or hail a taxi. I flinched anyway. Two employees came in their branded polo shirts.

Employee: “Sir, can we help you?”

Customer: “F****** new guy needs an attitude adjustment.”

Me: “I don’t work here.”

Employee: “He doesn’t work here.”

Customer: “The h*** he doesn’t. Why’re you covering for him; you train him?”

That other critical piece of context; Blockbusters’ polo shirts were a bright royal blue; my uniform was a dark forest green. Not one of those aquamarines that someone with blue/green colour-blindness might have a hard time differentiating, completely different saturation.

Employee: “Sir, he’s not an employee, he’s a customer. That’s not our logo. That’s not even our color.”

Customer: “Bull-s***!”

Me: “Swear-to-God, I don’t work here!”

I may have started panicking a bit. I didn’t grow up in a house with yelling, and this may have been one of the first times I was ever shouted at.

Customer: “Shut the f*** up and let the grownups talk.”

Employee: “Sir, please. We need you to—”

The French have an expression, “L’esprit de l’escalier”, the idea being you only think of the perfect thing to say once you’ve walked out the front door and are walking down the steps. I got a buddy who calls them “Jerk-store” moments. What I should have said was “I don’t know this man. He came up to me asking me about dirty movies.”

Still, I’m proud of the response thirteen-year-old-me actually came up with:

Me: “If I did work here, would I be immediately fired for calling a customer a jack-a** to their face?”

Employee: “Absolutely.”

Me: “Fine. He’s a jack##s. Now I definitely don’t work here. Can I go home now?”

Employee: “Yeah, kid, we’ll mail you your last check.”

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 55
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 54
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 53
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 52
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 51

I worked at a video store when that was a thing. It was store policy to waive late fees for long-term customers, except this one guy, who came in with his wife, had over $400 in fees. When he was informed by my coworker that he would have to pay if he wanted to rent again, he threatened to go to Blockbuster.

Coworker: *Starts drawing him a map.* “Okay, so you’re gonna need to take the first left to the freeway…”

The customer stood there, shocked for a moment, as he realized his ‘threat’ was not a threat at all, grumbled, and pulled out a credit card to pay. He grumbles again and walks out. His wife adds some context:

Customer’s Wife: “He owes return fees in Blockbuster, too.”

How much must he owe at Blockbuster that we’re the less financially burdensome option?!

When I used to work at Blockbuster, I noticed a little girl, toddler age, clearly stealing every type of candy that we had. She had stuffed fourteen things down her pants by the time she and her mother walked up to me with the movie to check out. 

The kid’s pants are literally SAGGING. The manager walks up and points at the kid:

Manager: “Umm…?”

The mom just shrugged, like this was normal.

Manager: “You’re kidding, right? She has to take them out.”

Mom: “They’re all melted and inside her pants now. You can’t sell them, that would be gross, so she might as well have them.”

Manager: “Thanks for admitting that they’re not in a sellable state, thanks to the actions of your child, that you were more than aware of, it seems. You break it, you bought it.”

Mom: *Suddenly changing tack.* “No, no, they’re fine!” *To her toddler.* “Sweetie, put them all back where you found them, yeah? It was a fun game, but it’s over now, yeah? Put them back?”

The toddler just burbles along incoherently. My manager remains standing there, obviously not willing to let the mom leave without paying for them.

Eventually, the customer allowed me to ring her out, all the candy included, while she stood there steaming. My manager has even stepped in to help bag.

Manager: *As he hands the bag to the customer after she’s paid.* “Mmmm, toddler melted whoppers. Enjoy!”

Back when Blockbuster existed, and I worked there:

Customer: “I wanna watch that Salu movie. What is it about?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, did you say Salu?”

Customer: “Yeah. What is it about?”

Me: “Can you spell that for me?”

Customer: “S-A-L-U.”

Me: “Is that a foreign film?”

Customer: “I don’t think so?”

Me: “Did you see it here?”

Customer: “Oh. It’s on the new releases wall; it’s got a severed foot on it.” 

It was Saw. The way the font looks it kind of looks like SALU, but I mean, it had a saw and severed foot on it…