True Porn Clerk Stories - Ali Davis [36]
Mr. God came in a little later. He wouldn't be a particularly distinctive renter if it weren't for the huge button he always wears, which I think is homemade:
GOD IS.
IN FULL CONTROL
I am fascinated by the quirky punctuation and always wonder if it was intentional and, if so, what that means.
Mr. God always rents hardcore porn, and it's hard to keep myself from having a knee-jerk snotty internal reaction to that. If he's so pious, why is he renting Freaks, Hos and Flows? Which would be a good point on my part if it weren't so hypocritical. One of my beefs with traditional Christianity is that most sects treat sex as a dirty or sinful thing. I like the fact that say, Taoism, treats sex as not only good but sacred. Why the hell can't God be. In full control and enjoy a little porn? I should fully support that. But still, my initial reaction is always a superior internal snort at the juxtaposition of the button with a bag full of Up and Cummers. Maybe I should get some sort of shock collar.
Mr. Diamond came in later, and I had a revelation. Mr. Diamond likes to rent the new releases upstairs in the general release section. He never has a new release in mind, he always just asks what's new and then wants to know what they're about. He always comes to the counter and asks what the new releases are even though they're posted on a sign, and he always asks me to show him which boxes those are even though, of course, the titles are on the boxes. Well, a lot of people don't like to find things for themselves and he usually comes in when it's pretty quiet, so it's not really a problem. It wasn't until Zoolander was released a few months ago that I realized he couldn't keep up with me when I pointed to the new releases too quickly and, more tellingly, when looking for Zoolander, Mr. Diamond hadn't seemed to notice the giant row of bright green and white boxes that said "Zoolander" across the front.
Mr. Diamond could not read.
I became a model clerkly compassion. I did my best to help him out without letting him know that I'd twigged to his secret. I put a discreet note on his file so the other clerks would help him out and avoid recommending new releases with subtitles. I admired the fact that he covered so well, that he'd risen to the point of being able to afford his diamond without being able to read. I wondered what his life was like and was quietly proud of myself for being such a terrific person as to help him without embarrassing him.
Anyway, I'm an idiot, because today while I went back to the counter to help with a printer jam he read a box perfectly well on his own. Turns out he doesn't like to use his glasses either. I can't believe I've done that twice now. Anyway, his new releases were all checked out, so I suggested Lantana and sent him on his way. I hope he likes it; it'll make me feel better.
It occurs to me that this entry's title actually fits my own comeuppance for being so smug about what a swell gal I was being to Mr. Diamond scant days after reminiscing over my literacy/myopia mistake with Mr. Hazy, but I'd actually intended it for another incident.
A man came in today and a note popped up on his file: "This charmer shoved his tapes on the counter in front of the disabled guy who wasn't getting out of his way fast enough."
The man is screwed for life at our store and he doesn't even know it. No, we won't be deliberately mean to him or shortchange him or anything like that. But we also won't cut him a break on late fees or give him the benefit of the doubt on damage claims or go out of our way to help him out, which we frequently do for people.
Clerk Karma happens more for our customers than people think, and it's odd how far-reaching, if minor, the effects can be. Even the highest management will take a note into an account. A fee on an account with a note that says, "This guy admits it was his fault but he was really cool about it," usually gets reduced by the Powers that Be. "This guy screamed at me for 20 minutes." is unlikely to get