Socking It To ‘Em
Photo by Natalie Kinnear on Unsplash
It's a Wednesday morning, and I'm running the shift at Blockbuster Video: I'm one of the three assistant managers, and Wednesdays are pretty quiet, so it's just two other guys and me: one is working down at the front of the store while I'm cleaning at the back. The store in Ramsgate is pretty big, so he'd have to shout to be heard. It turns out that on this occasion he does shout, but I don't hear him, so he scares the living hell out of me when I turn around, and he's suddenly just STANDING there in a mad panic.
'Dave, you've got to come to the counter. Quickly.' 'What? Why?'
'Some woman just barrelled in...and she's REALLY pissed off .'
'What happened?'
'Apparently, you ruined her evening.'
'I doubt that.'
As my only regular female contacts at this time are my mum and my nan, it's unlikely that I've started ruining the evenings of other women: I can barely even raise a smile from the town's squawking seagull girl...and she's nuts.
'No, seriously! She says you put the wrong video in her case. Last night? She came in with her husband: they brought Gladiator up to the counter, but when they got home and opened the box, it turned out to be The Erotic Witch Project.'
Admittedly, that could be true: I am on a swing shift. At Blockbuster Video, a swing shift was where you ran a night shift (closing the store), followed by a day shift (opening the store). This was okay because it meant you didn't need to bother cleaning the place up for the next staff member as the next staff member was you. However, it could also be a pain in the arse if you messed up or made a mistake the night before because you could guarantee that you would reap that whirlwind the following morning.
I sighed. 'How did she know it was me?'
'She said 'the ginger bloke' served her.
Damn it: what good was wearing a fake name badge if the customers could identify you by your hair?
'Okay, ne. I'll come down.'
'She's asked to speak to the manager.'
'Great.'
I take a few deep breaths and walk to the front of the store, where I'm somewhat disturbed by the sight of a smartly dressed, middle-aged woman with short hair and a pinched expression. Astonishingly (given the fact that she's had a night to sleep on it), she still looks furious. In fact, she's so angry that I don't even make it behind the counter before she starts thrusting an accusatory finger at me.
'You! You served me; remember?'
'I did indeed. It was me. Apologies.'
'I wanted Gladiator: I got the Erotic Witch Project. It thoroughly ruined our evening.'
'Look, I'm really sorry about that. There's this guy who comes in off the street, and he swaps the cassettes around: I don't know why he does it, but it's very annoying, and it causes us so much trouble.'
This is genuinely true, and it's been going on for ages: we would have done something about it, but we just can't seem to catch the culprit in the act.
'I'm not interested in that nonsense: you should have checked.'
I nod. 'Yes, I should.'
'It's your JOB to check.'
'You're absolutely right. You have my apologies.'
'I want a full refund. NOW.'
'I can't do that, I'm afraid: I can put a credit on your account for a free movie of your choice.'
'Are you deaf? I said I wanted a REFUND.'
I shake my head. 'Honestly, I can't: you've had the film overnight, and you could have watched it.'
'Do I look like someone who would njoy a film about lesbian witches?'
I stare at her just a tiny bit too long.
'Give me a refund this second, or I'll speak to your line manager.'
I call up her account and credit the money back onto it.
'There you go, madam: I've given you a full credit for any new release and you or your husband can choose it whenever you want.'
'That's IT. Get your line manager. NOW.'
'I'm running the shift today, myself.'
She turns to my colleague, who has moved to stand beside me. 'Is he?'
'Yeah. He is.'
'But you're not the STORE manager, are you?' she says, returning her attention to me. 'It's the fellow with curly hair and glasses.'
Damn; she's got descriptions for everyone.
'I'm afraid he's not here today.'
'I don't care: go and get him.'
She doesn't CARE that he's not here? She wants me to go and get him? Seriously? He lives in HERNE, which is miles away. Do these people even hear the things that they say?
I sigh. 'I'm sorry, madam: he's not WORKING today.'
'Yes, he is.'
I stare at her. 'I beg your pardon?'
'He IS here. Don't lie.'
What the actual FUCK is this woman on?
'Honestly, he isn't.'
'He's HERE. My husband drove past on his way back with the papers this morning, and he saw him in here, clear as day. Go and fetch him immediately.'
My mind suddenly starts to race, and I can't think of anything to say. The most likely scenario is that her husband has seen the young guy who does bits and pieces of cleaning for us, as he is also in the building somewhere and doesn't serve the customers. It's possible that her husband mistook him for the manager, as they look quite similar.
Now, the woman is clearly on the verge of losing her temper.
'I'll count to five,' she says, 'and if you don't go and get the manager, I'll report you to head office. What's your name?' She looks at my badge. 'Matt...Matt WHAT?'
I look down at the name badge I'm wearing. It says 'MATT ', but there's no surname. In a bit of a daze, I give my actual surname.
'Stone.'
'Stallone?'
'STONE.'
'Okay. I'm counting tofive, and you better move. ONE-'
'Please-'
'TWO!'
'If you'd just-'
'THREE!'
Before I know what's happening, I've hurried into the office and closed the door behind me. I'm still standing there in the silence, staring at the woman on the security camera when my colleague comes in.
'What the hell are you doing? He's not HERE!'
I shake my head irritably. 'I know that. I'm just thinking.'
'About what? She's waiting to speak to the manager now!'
I stare at him for a few seconds and then hear myself say: 'Do we have that spare Manager badge, still?'
He frowns. 'Er, yeah...I think so. It's in that drawer by the TV. Why?'
I take a split second to think about the situation, and then something snaps. 'Fuck it,' I say. 'She's a rude cow. Go and keep her busy: I'll be two minutes.'
Then, in a frantic rush, I whip off my left shoe and peel off my sock, pulling it over my hand. Then I replace the shoe and pin the spare manager badge halfway down the sock.
When I arrive at the counter, I'm holding one hand behind my back. I say to the woman: 'Sorry: the manager's just on his way.'
She rolls her eyes. 'Hurry up: I haven't got all day.'
We stand there for a few seconds while I try to mentally dissuade myself from what I'm about to do. Then, it just happens...as if I'm being possessed.
I raise the hand with the sock puppet, scrunch it up and say 'HELLO' in a really squeaky, snarky parrot voice.
She flinches at the sudden sound and jumps a bit. Then she stares at me.
Firstly, she looks confused. Then I see her gaze move to the sock puppet I'm holding up, the one with the STORE MANAGER badge hanging from it. She looks at it for just a few seconds as if she can't quite work out what she's seeing...and then she looks me in the eye with something approaching dismay.
'What are you doing?'
'It's the manager,' I say. Then I shake the puppet again and say 'HELLO LOVE!' in a much louder and even squeakier voice.
My colleague has run to stand beside me, but he's staring at me in such a serious way that it actually ends up ADDING to the overall performance.
The woman continues to glare, and her mouth opens wide for a few seconds, during which time I gaze from her to the puppet and back as if I'm expecting a conversation to take place.
'Are you....' she begins, really slowly. 'Are you mental?'
I offer her my most concerned expression. 'In what sense?'
When she doesn't answer, I raise the puppet again and say: 'DO YOU STILL WANT A REFUND?'
Then I answer it: I actually answer it.
'We can't give her a refund, boss: she's had the video overnight.'
'QUIET, YOU! YOU GAVE HER THE WRONG VIDEO.'
I go through an entire conversation before I look back across the counter, but when I do, the woman is nowhere to be seen.
She never came back....
...but her husband did…and that's when the trouble REALLY started.
