Last weekend Christina and I were at the mall a few towns over and decided to check in on the GameStop there. I went in hoping to find a good deal on some old games, and I came out with the humbling realization that even though I may not work for GameStop anymore, I am still just as vulnerable to the horrific experiences that so frequently manifest inside those hallowed walls.

We were picking up a copy of Alan Wake for the Xbox 360 (expect Christina’s impressions soon, since she’s the survival horror fanatic) and suddenly we became bystanders to one of the most astoundingly stupid conversations ever to be spoken north of Arkansas. I mean, this was the kind of stupid that hasn’t existed since man decided walking upright would impress the chicks more than dragging his knuckles on the ground.

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One of the things GameStop did to capitalize on holiday gift cards, Christmas money and returns was a day after Christmas “Buy 2 get 1 free” sale on all used games. Used game sales were pure profit for the company, so the day after Christmas was just as big, if not bigger, than Christmas Eve or Black Friday. It is on this unholy day that my story takes place.

(Note, this takes place at the BAD GameStop.)

I was doing my register monkeying, helping too many people and working too hard for the peanuts they paid me, when I got my least favorite customers. Believe me, considering the majority of the people who shopped at that store, that is saying A LOT. There were two brothers who came in frequently, probably between 15 and 16 years old. These kids were GROSS. Not gross like coughing a lot or anything, they just always looked horrendously filthy.

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Since you all liked my GameStop article, and I like all of you (especially you, handsome ;D), I’ve decided to share some of my more memorable experiences as a Senior Game Advisor for the Preowned Empire.

A big part of the job was explaining the ESRB ratings to parents. Despite how mainstream video games have become, there are still a lot of parents out there who are under the impression that all video games are for kids. Whenever a customer purchased a game that was rated Mature, we had to card them if they looked underage, or explain what the M rating meant if they had kids with them. A lot of parents were really grateful for the information, and some didn’t care.

I LOVED when a kid would try to slip one past his parents and try to tell them that an M rated game wasn’t bad, and then I’d tell them the truth and they’d make him pick out something else. I’m not really a jerk in real life, despite how I portray myself in my writing, but I did enjoy shutting those punks down. I had a parent ask me once about God of War because her 10 year old son wanted it. “I know it says it has nudity on the back,” his mom asked me, “but he says it’s only in one part of the game and you don’t even have to go there.” I had quite a laugh, and the kid left empty handed for lying to his mom. Score.

Anyway, this particular story begins on a Friday afternoon. It was starting to get busy, and it was me and the store’s assistant manager Jeff working the counter. An older man, probably in his late 60s, came to the counter with his grandson and his friend, who were both no older than 10 years old. He plopped the display box for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for the PlayStation 2 on the counter. “My grandson wants this for his birthday.”

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I, like many other video game enthusiasts, was at one point employed by GameStop. This is my story.

I started working for EB Games in the spring of ’06, I think it was. I was working part time at a grocery store in the Sacramento area, and I wanted another fun job to help me earn some extra money and it seemed like a good idea. I had just moved into a house with my two best friends and I didn’t have a lot of extra money to play with, so I could work there and then use the money to buy games, plus I’d get a discount on them. I was friends with the manager, since I was a frequent customer at the comic store he ran previously, and I got hired working on my days off from the grocery store.

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