Eleven Monkeys

As the twentieth century sputtered to a close, I worked for four years as manager of a video rental store. To give context to how long ago that was, the movies Fargo, Jerry Maguire, and Independence Day had just been released on VHS. The store also hired out video games, but only for the Sega Mega Drive and the first incarnation of the PlayStation. The most popular games for those consoles when the store opened were Sonic the Hedgehog and Tomb Raider, respectively.

It was a decent job, being generally undemanding, although there were sometimes lengthy periods of solitude. I lived in a flat directly above the store, so my daily commute was no more than a walk down a staircase.

Crueball

Of course, people used to remark on how nice it must be to get paid for watching movies and playing video games, but that wasn't quite the case. I could do both of those, but pesky customers kept coming in and interrupting the flow of movies, so I didn't bother. And games could be left almost permanently on pause, so it was barely worth starting one. That said, I did complete Crueball on the Mega Drive one quiet afternoon.

The job did entail a constant battle over missing stock: chasing up late returns, knocking on doors at addresses where items were seriously overdue, and on one occasion, I attended Bedlington Magistrates Court after a customer had hired a brand new copy of the PlayStation game Time Crisis, complete with gun, and sold it.

When I arrived at court, and the customer saw that we were serious about pursuing the matter, he changed his plea to guilty. We didn't get the game back, nor the money he'd been ordered to pay, but I got an afternoon away from my desk.

Another issue I had to deal with daily was young teens attempting to hire titles with 18 certificates. They would plead, cajole, and threaten, but I was unbending in my resolve. That didn't deter them from testing me again the moment a new prohibited game came in, but it was all knockabout banter and I got to know them quite well. All these years on, I still stop to chat with those I see in local bars.

Twelve Monkeys

During one such chat, I reminisced with a former customer about an incident that occurred back then. He was about 14 at the time, and he always yanked my chain, albeit in a good-natured manner.

After he'd left one day, by way of mischief I typed something into the comments section of his membership details. The text would appear on the screen every time he hired an item. I entered:

Caution! Customer hired Twelve Monkeys but only brought eleven back.

The plan was that the next time he came in I would tell him, wearing my best poker face, that I wasn't allowed to serve him because a flag had come up on his membership details. After milking his bewilderment for as much as I could, I'd show him the computer screen and vengeance would be mine.

I left the foundations of my revenge prank in place and thought no more about it until a few days later. I was at home, and the guy working in the store that night called. "There's a customer here," he said, "who wants to hire a video, but there's a note on his account about him hiring Twelve Monkeys and only bringing eleven back. Is he allowed to hire from us?"

I laughed and told him to go ahead, but I would like to have known the train of thought that prompted him to call.