The Video Store Girl Part 1
The store was not particularly stylish, at least compared to the other video rental chains in town, but it had a charm of it's own. This specific store was called Video Choice, a simple name, really, for a local store, established by someone from the area. One thing this establishment offered that the other stores couldn't was selection; while the other locales were merely distribution points from some head office thousands of kilometers away, Video Choice was truly representative of the local tastes of the community. Or at least it was truly representative of the tastes of the owner. This was a Monday afternoon, and Pamela did one of her many typical duties as employee; she placed the rating stickers on each and every video box that arrived for display on the Tuesday of each week. Each sticker represented a rating decided on by a few select people; people Pamela intuited were much better paid, and more strongly connected to power than she. Obviously, these select individuals knew what was suitable and was was moral for the nation at large; few poor suckers who had to work long and hard months to produce their work could sway them to another opinion on who ought to to allowed to see their works of art. Maybe, Pamela thought as she tried not to receive sticky goo from the backs of the stickers over her fingertips, somebody ought to create a different sort of ratings system. The kind of system based on intellect rather than arbitrary notions of "age" and "maturity". Line up a thousand 18 year olds and they will not all react in the same fashion to any film. A better, if more bureaucratic and expansive, way, would be to test every single person. The highest grade would mean that the successful applicant would be permitted to see anything in the store, since such an individual would be able to handle the peculiarities of, say, an Ingmar Bergman film, the old-fashioned glamour of an old Hollywood picture, and any stupid action film on the market, without any overexertion of the brain. The lower grade you received, the fewer choices you had -- if all your brain were good for was, say, Flubber, then you were not permitted to rent any other type of film until you proved that your brain grew up. This wasn't as offensive as it sounded, Pamela would reason. Most people who rent such movies would be pleased to have been warned about potential stress upon the cranium. Such a system would also lessen the chance of some redneck and his fluffy girlfriend coming back to the store complaining that their video contained subtitles, which would also lessen the chance of stress upon Pamela's cranium. Such were the thoughts she entertained while suffering from meager and unchallenging work. * Vacuuming the floors again. Every evening before close she had to sweep the floor and then vacuum. Frequently, she would cheat, sweeping the floor thoroughly enough to make it appear as though it were vacuumed, but tonight she felt that people would soon notice the cut corners of her work. The carpet's shade of icky green was becoming too icky to ignore. Pamela's position at this moment was such that she had a clear view of most of this maze of a layout. The store was fairly quiet; about a handful of people were gingerly searching for something to fill their nights with. Pamela recognized one particular customer. The customer was not carrying any videos, but she had helped herself to the bags of popcorn at the entrance to the store Pamela wasn't sure on her name -- there were too many customers on the database to even attempt recalling -- but this customer was easily spotted. It was hard to say why. Perhaps it was her bright pink winter jacket, which she seemed to keep in circulation until the tail end of the spring. Maybe it was just her facial features that stuck to Pamela's memory. Maybe this stranger wasn't the prettiest girl around, but her look might have been enough to vault her into the top five. But looking at pretty girls wasn't exactly Pamela's specialty, of course. Looking at dirty floors was her most beautiful occupation. Each thread of the carpet held thousands, possibly millions, of bacteria and germs, from the shoes of every single individual who set foot upon this dated floor. Yes, different sorts of people visited the store: Teenage boys would go through the comedy section, looking for the most recent vulgarity, or the action and horror section, looking for a different sort of gross-out. Teenage girls, on the other hand, would follow the boys for a time, if they even were with the boys, before going to the drama section, filled with titles that the boys would scoff at in public, and turn away in fear privately, lest the looks of those couples in love turn them to stone. the artsy types went to the independent and foreign sections, while rarely venturing through the rest of the store, except perhaps to make fun of it. Parents and their children fought over what to rent; the kids either wanted everything, or wanted the one thing that sensible parents would not give them, since the children haven't quite reached the intelligence and sophistication of the teenage boys. But each and every one of those people were the same when it came to the soles of their footwear, and the ugly mass of slop and dirt that the footwear took a fancy to, at least until it met the carpet. And then the mud and the pebbles and the rainwater and the snow were left behind for somebody else to rescue. And then there was the popcorn. Four pieces that Pamela didn't notice during her last roundabout. Obviously, the stranger was a careless one. Was she like this in her house. Pamela struck that thought, knowing that she herself wasn't exactly squeaky clean in that department. * The pink jacket girl approached the counter and handed Pamela the video. She took a quick glance, all that was needed for someone who knew virtually every product in the store, and that quick glance told her the film was Nosferatu, a German film directed by Werner Herzog. A version of Dracula far removed from Bela Lugosi, or even Gary Oldman. "This movie is subtitled......? ", Pamela asked by rote. Her brilliant idea for testing customers didn't come to pass, but secretly she was thinking the pink jacket girl was intelligent enough to withstand such a fact. She didn't have the demeanor of the ordinary. "Hmm, subtitled? ", the pink jacket queried. As her face contorted into an expression of mystery, the woman began slowly wiping her hand across the edge of her jacket, as if brushing off some dirt. "Where did you pick this up at?", Pamela asked. "I just found it by the horror section, how could it be subtitled? ", she snarls. "This is Nosferatu... isn't that supposed to be Dracula? Where's the foreign in that!?" "Things get tossed about, mixed up.", Pamela responded, stifling any urge she had to lecture her on the origins of some of these stories. "Nothing major, I assure you. I apologize." "You better apologize! ", Pink Jacket freaked. "The last thing I want to have happen is to take home a pornographic tape to my family. " She continued wiping her hands against the sides of her jacket, as her face frowned at the direction of the cassette. "Ummm, this is not even 18-rated, it's not considered... "pornographic"." Pamela's smile brightened, expecting the customer to deliver a choice punch line. "..... and it's by the independent and foreign film section.... " "Tomato, to-mat-o, it's all the same. ", said with utter self importance. "Sure, it might not be 18-rated, but all those films have something depraved in them.... it's in their nature!" Huh? "It's just beside the adult room, it's not... " "Duh! ", she blurted, breaking Pamela's belief that this stranger was a totally elegant individual. She was beginning to sound like one of the teenage girls, but with more clearly Fascist tendencies. "Why do you think the owners put that in their building plan. It's one small step from a "saucy" French film to, umm, Naughty Nurses, or whatever those films are called! " "Literally. ", book-ending the customer's statement. "So I take it you're not going to rent this one then.....?" "Nah!", the stranger dismissed. "I'll just take this one." The video was Erin Brockovich, not foreign, but definitely more foul-mouthed than a lot of those near-porno movies the stranger claimed was in the foreign section. Breath deeply, Pamela. She processed the rental for the customer, and stumbled upon an interesting fact from that person's account. "I might as well tell you that you have a late charge for..... " Pause. Questionable squinting. .....umm...... Showgirls." Pamela looked up at the customer with a curious grin. "Alright.", mocking a show of frustration. "I'll pay it...", digging for change in her deep pockets. "Explain that one to me, please!", Pamela's eyes touched with a wicked spark. Pink Jacket's dark eyes were piercing, yet the expression accompanying those slits of darkness seemed more mocking than upset. "There's nothing wrong with Showgirls,",she claimed. "If it weren't for all that nudity... it'd be a pretty good film." Pamela grinned, in amused amazement. "...that stuff happens in real life, you know.", Pink Jacket concluded, before exiting this den of twisted fantasy into the foreboding mystery of the real world. Pamela shook her head in amusement. Pink Jacket was quite the lady; a very opinionated one, for sure. Pamela always had the impression that, by her demeanor, Pink Jacket was a high-minded individual, so her comments toward such a trashy film were rather an amusing letdown..... But that would have to wait. Another customer was ready to pay for his evening fix. The two exchanged the usual pleasantries between staff and customer, before the customer handed over the video. Afterwards, the customer decided to engage in aimless chitchat. "Hey, you must be new here.", the customer said, apparently not recognizing this redhead at the counter. "A few months, yea. ", she smiled. "How are you liking it..... here, I mean. ", he stumbles, awkward when addressing a complete stranger. "Okay! ", giggling warmly, finding this questioning intrusive, yet amusingly so. "Do you have your card with you?" "Yes, somewhere..... ", pulling out his wallet. ".... within this mass array of plastic.... " Cards slid from the pouch inside the wallet. "Over the years, one develops a large list of associations look at the bank cards, credit cards, etc. " The pile scattered across the counter. "Opps ", as the only card needed for this transaction gave off a noticeable glare. "There it is....", she smiled, her voice dry. The card said his name, Jim. Pamela scanned the card to check his account. "Hmmm.... this is strange.", although not as strange as the prude customer who rented Showgirls. "This card doesn't work anymore... from the looks of this, you haven't rented anything with this card in over six months." "Ummm....", stunned. "I guess it's been a long time!" "Considering that you have two or three other video memberships, I'd say so!", teasing him. "Well, I like to get around.", he says. "Not known for sticking to one thing, are you?", she grinned playfully. "You like to scope out the competition before you can make a firm decision, and yet you're willing to give anything a second chance, if something intrigues you." "Hmm... never thought about it in that way, before.", he responded quizzically. "Well, you'll have to pay 7.35 for your wavering in any case.", she smiled. "You must like to tease everybody --", passing a ten dollar bill to her. "Don't you?" Pamela's face crinkled in pleasure again, amused while growing ever more conscious that she was flirting with a stranger. "Some people say I'm a mite derogatory, but it's entirely unintentional." "Well, whatever you said, I'm not upset." "Here's your new card.", passing him a much more attractive piece of plastic. "Thanks. I guess I'll see you...." He looks at the return sticker on the video as a prompt for the end of his sentence. "... in seven days!" "I'll see you surely... I'm always here, poor me!", she said, with a mock sob. "Bye." Pamela felt a twinge of happiness at this amusing interlude. Then she cringed. What a silly woman she was! What was that all about? She might as well have went to the bars and picked up a guy, she might have had more luck! * It was a week later, and Pamela was doing her usual routine at the store. No change. Even the faces of the customers were the same, give or take a few. How repetitive it was. She was restocking the video shelves, returning videos to their rightful spaces, only to be taken away again eventually. As she turned away, she noticed that guy again. She wondered.... maybe she could be the one to come up to him and say hi. It would be no big deal. After all, retail is all about creating a pleasant atmosphere, showing a smile to tell the customer that he or she is welcome, is appreciated. She casually strode (well, she tried to look casual) to his general location. "Hi.", she said. Suddenly she was stuck for words, although she tried not to show it. "Oh, hello.", Jim said. "How are you?" "Pretty good.", she answered. "You actually decided to come back to the store, huh? I thought that you only came here every six months." "Well..... umm, there's some interesting selections at this store... I think I'll spend some time here after all!" "Good, good!", she smiled. "That's some more commission for me! Ha ha!" Jim was no longer intrigued by the video packages. "So....", fumbling for a good subject for small talk. "... is this the biggest thing that happens in your life, or are there other things that are equally exciting?" Whoa, that was quite the statement. Pamela snickered intensely. "Well, actually, right now this is as exciting as it gets!" "Ahh, well, I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories!", he said, with an amused smirk. "Oh, it's okay... I did have a more interesting life before this. I finished university a year ago -- graduated in History, but I would love to be able to pretend that I had graduated in Theater! Then perhaps I could get more acting work! Problem is that this pathetic excuse for a university doesn't have degrees in such things.", she lamented. "So you're a brilliant actress, then!", he joked. "A few productions at the campus, that's about it.", she said forlornly. "I always wanted to do more, but never had the chance, unfortunately. I needed to pay the bills, you know.....stuck in a rut." "So you came here!", he said. "Good career move!" Pamela broke out a smile, either that or feel like sobbing. "I know! I've been stuck in this rut for so long that my mind seems so preoccupied with work... laundry.... groceries.....argghhh!!!!" "Ah, it ain't so bad.", he said. "I work on a delivery truck -- about the same, you wake up everyday knowing that you're going to be working seven, eight hours at least, and a few hours more just keeping your house in order. You just have to find some time to make that life good." "Oh, I know.... I like to keep up with the productions that I used to be involved in. Every year the university has two productions, and I always go see them, and some of the people I knew are still there. So it's pretty cool....." Jim looked at this woman as she spoke. Late 20's, she appeared to be. Her face was nice, in a pretty librarian sort of way, what with the glasses and short hair. But that red hair, what a terrific addition..... "Hey,", Jim spoke. "did you ever want to....go out sometime." What an impulsive request...... possibly a bit too bold. Pamela smiled at him, in gentle disbelief. "Really! You're pretty daring, aren't you!" Jim thought perhaps he had created an embarrassment. "Well, what else should I be." "Oh, I don't know... I don't know you well enough yet!", she smiled. In reality, Pamela felt somewhat relieved. She didn't feel like an idiot for chatting him up now. "Well.... if you don't think that was a stupid idea, then do you think that would be a good idea??" "Yea... it is a good idea....", she said, with confidence. "When do you like to go out?" "Whenever it's good for you... for me it's usually the weekend." "Hmmm... my schedule's all over the map... but Friday's okay... after about five or so." "I can do that...." "So what did you want to do?", she murmured, thinking that she ought to get a piece of paper, and write down a phone number. "Well.... we'll figure it out. I'm not THAT spontaneous!", as his mouth curled. "Anyway,", finding a paper and pen. "This... is... my number." She gives the shred of paper to him. "So call me when you're ready to go." "Terrific. Anyway, I'll see you later, I don't want to get you fired!", he laughs. "Sure! See you later." Jim turns away and walks out of the store. Pamela was amused. She didn't expect this to happen, but it was nice. She was amused again when she realized that he just left, and never even rented a video. She was to be his entertainment this weekend, apparently. The simple charms of a cheap video weren't going to do it this time..... * The date. Not what she's used to. This wasn't a play, but a movie. But not just any movie, and not just at any typical theater. She's been to many movies, and in many locations, but it's been so long since she found herself here, in this sort of place. The stereotype of the drive-in theater seemed to be that it played only the cheap knockoffs, the grade B Roger Corman wannabes. But that hasn't been true for a lot of years. Video killed the low-rent B-movie star. Now the drive-in was a novelty act, so tourists can come here and say they relived their childhood, or something of that nature. This drive-in was the only one in existence in this province, tucked away behind a row of trees near the northern shore. Of course, this drive-in only played the current hits -- the latest silly romantic comedy or the thuggish action drama. These really weren't much less worse than the sorts of things they used to play so many years ago. But nobody went to the drive-in expecting art. In fact, most people probably didn't even go to the drive-in to watch any movies, if those tales of making out in the front seat of the car were accurate. Pamela wasn't in the throes of passion, however. She was too busy being attacked by a case of guffaws and snickering. "Wow -- this is so...so... cheap!", she squealed, in delight. The movie was one of those martial arts flicks, dubbed horrendously into English, adding a new, unexpected layer of interest to certain viewers. Jim turned to her, unsure of how to take her comment. "Yea.. it's kind of silly, sure.", chuckling lightly. "...oh, but, don't get me wrong! I haven't been to a drive-in in years, possibly decades! When I was a kid there were actually quite a lot of them... Cavendish, North River, Summerside.... they all had one. I've probably been to most of them, I would imagine. Although I suppose I probably shouldn't have been, at my tender age. Eight year olds shouldn't watch anything unless it involves Mickey Mouse or similar characters!", laughing. "Yea....", lethargically glancing at the screen, "I suppose I've been here before, but I don't really remember...." The conversation moved slowly, each exchange of words interrupted by a new excitement on the screen. Yet every few moments the conversation would erupt again. "... what I don't remember is the mini-putt course.", Pamela recalls. "What's next, a roller coaster!" ".... all I remember was being here on dates --- but that was not long ago.", he said, before abruptly and gently gritting his teeth. Why did he say that to her! Pamela turned to him, with a wicked grin. "How long ago was that! Do you have a different woman every day, with a different movie as a distraction." Jim grinned nervously, desperately hoping for a witty, and shallow verbal return. "I'm a player, didn't you know! Or did I forget to mention that!" "Oh, men!", she scoffed. "You're all alike! You just like to mess around all the time!" Pamela was amused, while Jim was nervous. They remained that way, during the picture, while mostly in silence, except for the occasional sound bite to each other, to keep them awake in this darkened environment. * "Well, would it be okay....", Jim began as he pulled up to Pamela's apartment, ".... if I rang you up anytime... just for the hell of it, that's all." He was trying to sound less than assertive. "Sure, as long as I'm home --", she answered. "A video store girl's life is a busy one!" "It... was nice....", he said, looking at her face, hoping for something a little less verbal from her. "Yea, it was....", she said softly, before leaning closer to him, a wicked glint in her eye. "Well.... what do you often do when you drop off all these other dates!" "What do I do!", he asked. "Well... I suppose I say good bye to them, I would hope!" "No... you'd probably do more, wouldn't you!", she grinned, still in her leaning position. The two people were in very close proximity, and Jim felt almost obliged to kiss her good night, rather than merely say it. Pamela didn't exactly express verbally a desire to have her mouth kissed, but her expression seemed to be willing. Nevertheless, he had little problem in fulfilling this potential obligation. He leaned over, and drank ever so lightly at her lips. Pamela didn't seem to object, and responded in turn. "So....", he said, his forehead against hers, ".. was that what you were expecting!" "Works for me.....", she said, joyfully, in a swoon. "Well...", he said, returning to his former position, "... I guess I'll see you later, then." "Sure.", she replied. She continued looking at him, softly, as she exited the car. She walked to her apartment, and unlocked the security door. She thought of Jim's comment, about the dates he's taken to the drive-in. Ought to have been a concern, perhaps. Clearly, he was the more outgoing, fun-loving type. The sort who went out a lot, on frivolous dates and the like. Quantity more than quality, apparently. She laughed in her mind. What did it matter? Pamela's life wasn't nearly as routine as that. Dates and friends were hard to come by for her. This was an addition to her social life, and she ought to take it in that spirit.
Copyright © 2002 David MacDonald |