Jenny is so slow
when she rings up customers. She’ll say things like “Oh, this is the style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>best movie! You’re gonna love it!” She
takes even longer if it’s a cute boy. Whenever she does something like that, I
look over at George and, sure enough, he’s already glaring into her. She probably
won’t last here much longer. The things you should
say to a customer aren’t even that hard to find. They’re in the Section Two of
the manual, or you can just look in the break room for updates. The proper
exchange begins:
“Hi, will that be all?” — Smile,
wait for answer.
“Do you know about our today’s special?” — style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Don’t wait for answer.
“On Mondays for
just two more dollars …” or
“It’s Super Saturdays! New releases are 20% off when you buy
a Popcorn-and-Soda Family Couch Kit!” — Smile,
wait for answer, suggest the items. If
refused, be calm, try not to express the gravity of their mistake. Continue smiling
and ring up the order.
“These titles are due back Tuesday, and these are due back
Thursday, and thank you for renting with Now
Showing, where all the latest movies are Now Showing!” — style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Walk them around the security barriers and
then move back to the register and welcome the next movie lover.
Remember, your own Now
Showing is just an attitude away from Glowing!
George tells me
this operation is run by the book. He
says “Some very smart market analyzer expert-types with more college degrees
than Jenny or Keira or even Nathan came up with this approach to running a style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing franchise for a style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>reason. Because it works. Just look at
the annual profit sheets on this mother! Have you seen these, Caroline?” I say
no, but add a “not yet.” George went to a training seminar weekend down in Louisville.
That’s where he learned all about Glowing.
Being on the Now Showing Glowing List
means that you are a regional sales leader. When he came back, all he talked
about was Glowing. He was different.
He was trained. So I think he knows a little more than gabby Jenny! And it’s
not his fault that we aren’t on the Glowing
List, but we’ll get to that.
When I come in to
work, I admit I sometimes still am a little surprised at how bright this place
is (again, the glowing). At first, when I started this summer, I had trouble
getting used to it. Then I realized that it’s kind of like the movies.
Everything is brighter and bigger than life. Sometimes I think we’re like
characters in the movies, or maybe producers, you know? We bring the movies to
you! And where would you be on a Friday night, how would you get the kids to
sit still in the den while you go to make out, or plan your divorce or write
the check for the mini-van payment? Face it, movies are important.
In fact working
here at Now Showing has made me alter
one of my life-long dreams. I have always wanted to be a world-famous writer,
but now I’ve decided that when I start college this fall I’m going to focus my
training and then, after graduation, start my career as a screen writer.
The camera pans across video shelves; and
begins to move faster as the DVD and VHS cases blur into a cinematic rainbow.
Focus on girl stocking videos. She is, somehow, remarkable. Yeah, you could
say that I look at the world through a very special lens.
For example, right
now I can see myself in the reflection of a movie poster. I kind of line up my
face with the adventure babe. She has big blue eyes, long brown hair,
ridiculously round boobs and is all in black leather. OK, so maybe not the
leather, but there’s a resemblance. OK, maybe not the boobs either. style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>In a time when others merely watch the
movies, Caroline Hilliard, says “No thanks! I’m gonna live them!” Whoa! My
shift is almost over.
In our break room,
which is sometimes mistaken for a broom closet, there’s this stinky microwave,
a scratched-up table, some magazines, and a bathroom (employees only). The
walls were never really painted; they’re still gray drywall and white plaster.
There’s a bulletin board near the microwave called “What’s Going at style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing.” There’s little notes
pinned on it about stuff like renting the video game machines and what to check
for when the systems come back.
The right side of
the board is what’s really important, though, and is the primary reason for
much of the grief in my life — it’s called Large
Popcorn, To Go! Let me explain. Large
Popcorn is this nasty video store about a quarter mile down the strip and,
get this, we think they are the reason that we aren’t style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Glowing yet. They’re about the same size
as us, but totally ghetto. I don’t even think they have a corporate connection.
Before I started working at Now Showing,
I never thought twice about Large Popcorn, or “Stale Popcorn” as George calls
them, let alone considered using them
for my media needs, but apparently some people do.
When people take
out their member cards, George likes to look in their wallets; sometimes, right
next to our bright green Now Showing
card, he sees a goofy purple Large
Popcorn card (It must make the “smile” part harder for him). “Doesn’t that
seem wrong to you? That some of our people go there and that those
clowns are keeping us from Glowing?”
he’ll ask me, his face getting just a little pink. He has a way of talking a
little closer than most other people, but you feel like he’s letting you in on
a secret, so it’s completely appropriate. On the bulletin board, there’s even
these little cartoons that George or somebody drew. They show people shopping
at Large Popcorn and looking all
retarded with spirals for eyes. Hey, they’re old enough to make their own
decisions, and sometimes people don’t do what’s best for themselves, like doing
drugs, but come on people! We deserve to Glow!
I still didn’t see
what the big deal was until George explained it to me. It seems when George starts
a new promotion and does all the hard work to get it rolling, he only has to
wait a week or so and, sure enough, Large
Popcorn will start a promotion and it will sound very familiar! (Because
it’s just like his.) One promotion George started was to honor competitor
coupons. (This was nearly a month before the idea became official style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing regional policy. Store #117,
leading the way again.) Then the war got even a little more intense last week
when we got our sales numbers (they’d dropped) and L.P. started honoring style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>our coupons! George found out through a
flyer that he found in his mother’s mail (he’s just living there temporarily)
and he came in so pissed! “Can you believe those guys?” he asked me, his face
pink again. All I could do was make a noise in my throat like “Hell no!”
Anyway, the style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Large Popcorn, To Go! section of the bulletin
board has all the competitors coupons on it. That way we know someone isn’t
just trying to slip a bogus one on us. But, man, do the real style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Large Popcorn coupons look bogus anyway!
They have things like “Nostalgia Night,” or “Independents Day,” and something
called a “B-Movie Planetary Invasion,” whatever that even is.
style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Honoring
our coupons, Caroline! It’s laughable, really.” Then he tried to laugh, but
it didn’t sound right. I felt really bad for him, because of style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Large Popcorn and everything, but also
because of the way he looked. He has this old-guy style receding hairline (even
though he’s only twenty-seven) and wears it long on the top so it kind of flips
up when he’s irritated. I guess he throws his head around more when he gets
upset about something or somebody. L.P. bastards. (Sorry.)
So tonight being
Tuesday, I get off work at 6:00. The
earliest my Dad can get here is 6:30
because his meeting of the Gentlemen Bird Watchers is at Hour="17">5:00. Don’t ask. Usually for that last half hour I’ll hang
in the break room or catch up on stocking shelves, but tonight I have an idea.
It comes to me when I start thinking about L.P. copying our promotions. The
idea comes in black and white. I picture these hunched-over people, for some
reason all in dark turtle-necks, looking at our flyers around some big
oval-shaped table, laughing and coming up with corny names for things, and then
laughing even more about how clever they think they are. I picture a board in
their break room that says “Now Showing
Must Be Going!” Who do they think they are? Who are they? Then I think about Glowing
and George and his pink face and then I grab my bag and find myself heading for
the door. Just like that!
My parents gave me
a cell phone, but wouldn’t allow a driver’s license. They come from a time when
licenses were only held by eighteen-year-olds. I step outside and everything is
dark until my eyes adjust. Then, slowly, I can see the A&W sign, then the
grass and finally the curb. I start to walk up Route 17, and towards the
heinous L.P.
When it’s quiet, I
find myself feeling even more like a screen writer. The words come easy. style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>She considers it one of her more charming
eccentricities.
style='mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>I walk the strip. It could be any town.
It could be any busy street. Caroline, nonchalantly passing Applebees, could be
any girl. My parents had me late. I mean, are any children really
“planned?” And why would it be better to be? She cranes her neck to see those who still labor at style='mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>Jiffy Lube, forever lubing, forever in a
jiffy. At their age, it’s not surprising that they’re way
old-fashioned. This, for example, is my first job. Cars rocket past the humble businesses nestled together along Route 17.
If the people in Pizza Hut had any idea what stalked outside their “OPEN”
sign, they’d huddle closer in their smooth red booths. I’m not the type to
hate my parents, though. I decided to skip that phase completely. They are what
they are. I mean, if we can live together as mutual adults, then bravo,
right?
I slow down in front
of the Kroger Mega-Mart to call
my Dad. “Dad? Hey. Sorry to interrupt. Could you pick me up at Large Popcorn
instead? I know. I know. I’m by Chuck
E. Cheese. I’m on the grass, not in the street. Yes, being very careful.
7:00? Perfect.” Moving again. style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Keep playing your games, children of style='mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>Chuck E. Cheese, some day perhaps you’ll
help us write the rules. I guess that I might have given my parents
a few reasons to be concerned in my younger years, but clearly things have
changed now that we are past the dreaded High School Days. Then, almost too soon, she stands, nearly fearlessly, in
front of the misshapen and foreboding headquarters of the insidious style='mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>Large Popcorn. It’s so obvious
that the building used to be a Taco
Bell. They tried to make the bell-shaped sign look like a popcorn
container (and failed). I walk up to the door and all of a sudden, out in front
of me on its yellow springy plastic cord, bounces my Now Showing ID. Ack! I hop to the
side, and just out of sight. I pull off my Now
Showing polo shirt and put it into my bag, and tuck the ID into my pocket.
I remember the adventure girl in the poster. Danger. Action. Boobs. I breathe.
I, too, can kick ass.
I step toward the
door … Good luck intrepid adventurer!
Alright Caroline, enough already.
Immediately the
place has a smell like it’s wasn’t sure what it wanted to be. Like it
considered being a snack shop, an air-freshener factory or then, and only at
the last minute, thought “I know, I’ll be a video store!” It’s not very bright.
The carpet is worn in paths down the center of the aisles, and the paint’s
chipping on corners where people might bump their weird bodies or their big
beaded purses. “Hey, how’s it going?” comes this voice from the check-out desk
to my right. I say “Hey” without even looking, and quickly move into the store.
What? At least they could have “Welcomed me to Stale Popcorn, where if we don’t
have it …” Forget it. These are the people that are stealing our style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Glow? This place looks like it
accidentally started selling videos. A hand-drawn poster -- that wishes it
looked more like Mickey Mouse -- smiles and reminds me that I am near the
“Animation Nation” section. I make my way through the totally dim aisles, away
from the desk and the welcoming crew. I move very inconspicuously, slinking
past a sign for their classic movie section: “Black and White and Rent All
Over,” then action movies: “Bang! Vroom! Yo!” and I try to look natural,
stopping in the romantic comedies: “Boy Meets Girl, Girl Rents Movie.”
So I start to flip
through some happy-ending crap, when from behind me I hear a voice that I swear
I recognize. I slowly turn around to see this middle-aged woman who has rented
almost all of the black-and-white movies that we have at Now Showing. I recognize her because she has about style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>two outfits and a voice you don’t
forget. Today she picked her green corduroy overall get-up. Geez, what the hell
is she doing at L.P.? She’s talking to the staff in her voice, which, no joke,
sounds just like a parrot: “These, umm videos were due last night, but Tim
wouldn’t bring me in. Once again, Tim has to watch the nature channel. I say,
‘Tim these have to be back to the store in twenty minutes!’ He says, ‘To the
northern bobcat, twenty seconds can mean
the difference between catching that rabbit, or going hungry!’ then he just
stares at the TV and … anyway, how much do I owe you?”
Behind the counter
I see, for the first time, this really tall boy.
He’s wearing this light blue T-shirt that says “Take It Easy Baby, Miami,
FL” and his hair is ruffled like he either
tried really hard at it, or hadn’t tried at all. He’s got these freckles and
these long light brown sideburns. He’s smiling and even laughing a little. Then
he lays his hands on the counter and is suddenly serious.
“Tell me, Barb,
did the bobcat catch the rabbit?” he asks (apparently her name is Barb).
“What? Oh, I left the room, but I heard Tim
cheering, so probably it did. He always cheers for the predator, I should have
noticed that fifteen years ago.”
“Cool!”
The woman looks at
him and her face can’t decide what to do, and I wonder if the word “cool” is
anywhere in their employee handbook under Conversation Guidelines.
He just kind of
just stares at her for a second, and then smiles and says, “These videos got
here in plenty of time. I think you should go look for some more, and maybe
even a nature flick for Tim.” She thanks him really fast and wobbles right over
to the Black and White And Rent All Over section. She reaches to a high shelf and
grabs a video case like she’s grabbing a cereal box from her own kitchen shelf.
Right where she expects it would be. I think of the L.P. shoppers with spirals
for eyes. Then, no joke, The Parrot picks up a title and squawks, “We’re
dancing tonight, Fred and Ginger!” Meanwhile, Mr. Forgive-and-Forget is talking
to some other guys back there behind the counter and I’m working out the
financials. Two late videos. Six dollars in late fees. Gone! Hello? No wonder
the Green Parrot comes here. She and this place are both nuts!
So I decide to
count how many copies of the latest releases they have. The report, I must say,
is dismal. L.P. could never survive a full-on fan stampede. Say the newest
vampire flick is out. You have to be
ready for the public. Expect the Goths to show up full-force, then the Jocks who
want to scare their girlfriends into Unspeakable Acts, and don’t forget the
Nerds who want to analyze the special effects and find mistakes in the
folklore. You get all kinds. I thank them all for shopping at style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing and hurry them along. Then,
when the movie’s late, I collect the late fees. It’s part of the business. I
wonder how much I’ve taken from The Green Parrot alone. But still, The Parrot
isn’t even the only person here! Why do these people come here?
Then, because the
nature section: “Lions And Tiger And Bears, Oh My” (oh God), is right next to
me, The Parrot wanders into my space, looking for a video for Tim, who cheers
for the predators. I’m totally fake-reading the back of some Victorian Cleavage
Classic when she goes, “Hey! I know you!”
I act like she
doesn’t, but that does no good. So I decide to abort my mission. I figure maybe
we’re better off not having this crowd in our store anyway, and I start to head
for the door. Well, Ms. Parrot lumbers behind me toward the front and just as
I’m by the checkout counter she squawks, “You work at Now Showing, don’t you?”
I freeze. I don’t
know why. I mean, I have faced enough sticky spots in my time. My parents caught
me after one and half beers once, and I’ve even had a detention, but I’ve never
frozen up like now. So I’m thinking about what to say when Sideburns starts
with, “Hey! A fellow film distribution professional!”
I try to laugh,
and take a slow step towards the door, “Yeah, I guess, well, sure.”
“So, what do you
think of our operation here, blue eyes?” he asks with a smirk.
I stop. “It’s …
it’s cool.”
“Working at one
video store and renting from another?”
“Well…”
“I do it, too. You
guys have the best games.” Now he’s laughing again.
“You come in to style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing?”
“Yeah. I get my
games there, and my movies here. I think my boss might even get his games
there.” One of the other guys behind the counter confirms it.
“But you get your
movies here, at Stale … ?” I freeze. I said stale.
He smiles. “Popcorn.
Yeah. Our movies are better. Sorry. I mean you guys have more of the
made-for-the-masses movies, but your foreign collection is kinda sucko. And
your indies are all Sundance. Please. You should tell your boss.”
“Wait …”
“Ben,” he says,
and holds out his hand to me.
“Caroline.” (I shake the hand.)
He starts telling
me about this movie director who must have changed his whole perspective on
life and “film.” I mean, he loves this guy. As he’s saying why, he starts
jumping around, making these giant circles with his arms. He’s so excited that
I think even George back at Now Showing
could get a kick out of it (okay, maybe not). I wonder if George has even heard
of this director guy. I tell Ben about how I’m going to be a screen writer and
he has a list of those that he loves,
too.
Later he explains
that the “Real Movie Geeks” shop at L.P. and how they rent stacks of stuff, (note
to self: This seems like the key to their business. I could mention this to George.
Or not.). Well, we must’ve talked for twenty minutes when my dad shows up, and
I’m all leaning against the counter like, “Hey Pops!” Ben introduces himself
and my Dad asks him if he has any nature films. Ben asks him if his name is
Tim. Dad doesn’t get it. Meanwhile, I’m shaking with the giggles and I put my
arm on my Dad’s shoulder and steer him outta there. Before I leave, though, I
stop. I turn to Ben, who I now notice has dimples, and tell him something that
I never expected to hear myself say, ever: “Umm, if you see me at style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Now Showing, say hi, I can get you a
discount.”
style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Then the astounding woman and her stately
father, like stars in an independent film that would never be found at
Sundance, stroll out to their waiting economy wagon and
the expectant night.
The first story, "Large Popcorn, To Go!" can currently be found in Emrys Journal and can be purchased for $12 plus shipping by email from Emrys. Please address your order correspondence to the editor, Lydia Dishman.
I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the readers who gave feedback on any of my stories. They only improved with the real opinions of readers. These two stories appeared on this site and you read them or were asked to read a more recent manuscript. Huge thanks goes to all of you, the readers and especially the proof-readers. Thanks for being part of my process. It has finally paid off.