Truly A Nineties Kid Problem

In the mid-1990s, I was a college student who normally wore the traditional late-teen/early-twenties male uniform of worn jeans, a band T-shirt covered by plaid flannel, and Chuck Taylor All-Star high tops of varying colors.

I was enjoying my sophomore year at my small college in a mid-sized city on the east coast of the US. I was tasked with an oral report in my American Romanticism class. I knew the material, spoke often in class, and engaged well with the teacher and my classmates. Things were good.

I decided that for the presentation, I would actually put effort into my appearance. I shaved that morning, put on the few dress clothes that I had brought from home, and even wore a tie. I thought that I had cleaned up pretty well.

The presentation was well received, and I felt good about how everything went, so after class, I decided to walk across the street to partake of a rented movie from the local Blockbuster video rental store.

For those too young to remember, once upon a time, you had to physically go to a store and choose a movie to watch, rent a VHS or DVD copy, and return it to the store when you were done. It was actually a really fun experience, and it was even more fun when they started to rent video games as well. It also made you choose something you may not have chosen otherwise when your first choice was out.

As I perused the store, I noticed that a couple of boxes were out of place, so I put them back in order as I decided what to watch that evening.

An older woman approached me holding a movie.

Woman: “Excuse me, young man, but I am taking care of my grandkids tonight and was wondering if this movie was appropriate?”

Me: “Oh, The Goonies? That is a classic! There are a couple of scary parts for the younger kids, but it is nothing worse than what they would see in a cartoon. They should really like it.”

She thanked me and was on her way.

Another woman asked where the romantic comedies were, so I directed her to them. A man asked me my opinion of John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”

“Wow,” I thought to myself. “My professional appearance must exude cinematic knowledge and expertise! People can’t stop themselves from asking my opinion on films! Maybe I should put more of an effort into dressing well.”

As I approached the counter with my selection, I was brought out of my contemplation by the sight of the Blockbuster assistant manager behind the register.

He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, tan trousers, a brown leather belt, brown loafers, and a tie.

I was wearing a blue button-down shirt, tan trousers, a brown leather belt, brown loafers, and a tie.

The realization hit me. “OH. Ohhh… Oh.”