Does Anyone Miss Cool, Video Store Dudes?

Do you miss the video store? There all but gone now that streaming services have taken over our lives and dictate our choices for movie watching.

Recently I got to reminiscing about now-near-extinct, video stores of bygone years.

A red Netflix envelope with movie CD — Net Flix Envelope

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Video Stores - A Thing of the Past
How I Miss Video Stores

Video Stores - A Thing of the Past

I loved visiting the video shop and browsing the titles on the shelves. Being Irish I could never resist a little small talke.

No matter how much my husband advised me to curb my urge to chat with those ever-so-cool, video, check-out guys, I could never hold my tongue. I inevitably asked silly questions, as I handed over my cash, knowing full well hubby was rolling his eyes to heaven behind me.

Sometimes I feel nostalgic when memories of our weekly trips come to mind. Trips to the video store were first replaced by a mail service. DVD's arrived in our mailbox with regular precision, twice or three times a week.

But now, I don't even need to leave the house to make a movie watching choice. I simply press a few buttons on the TV and there's the movie - maybe not quite what I would like to watch, but sometimes just good enough.

Sometimes I feel like asking the mail box if the movie is any good? I probably would have as much luck with a response, as when I tried to ask questions of those video-shop dudes, manning the check-out at our local video store.

Does anyone miss their local, video rental store?

I enjoyed roaming the aisles looking at titles of old movies, not-so-old movies, and the rows of recent releases.

Video Store Shelves — Shelves in Video Store

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How I Miss Video Stores

I felt like I was on nodding good terms with the video people, but most of them were just cool, and extremely aloof.

My husband laughed at my attempts to strike a conversation with the cool dudes. I was, and still am, possessed with a desire to put chat on people, who have no inclination whatsoever, to indulge my genealogical, Irish weakness.

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I usually started off by asking if my choice was any good. If lucky, I got a quick nod, but usually he just plain didn't answer. My video-shop banter was never much appreciated. Sometimes I threw in a comment about how hard it was to get to the movies, and how lucky we were to have the video shop so close by.

Still, no response. His eyes would glaze over with a look of sheer boredom. Often, he would respond with a jaw-stretching yawn. Based on his lack of response, I think he would have been just as interested, if I had read him my grocery list. Inevitably, he would just scan my movie without even a glance.

Responding to my feeble attempts at conversation, was probably too demeaning for a movie aficionado. Obscure or abstract comments about Woody Allen or Quentin Tarantino never simmered from my lips– just my usual, uninformed, new-release chatter or a request for an Irish themed movie.

There never were too many of those on the shelves, except of course the obligatory copy of The Quiet Man, one of my favorite movies of all time.

But alas, our video rental shop is no more. I will never again have the chance to find the perfect conversation topic, and finally get a video shop dude to have a chat.

The desire for a chat runs deep with Irish people. Our Irish language doesn't even have words for yes and no, since we think these words are just too short, and do nothing to encourage a chat.

We're so chatty we even have an extensive collection of sayings, proverbs and good old warnings about the dangers of idle chatter.

So, as I return from the mailbox with the next DVD from our queue, I sigh. There is as much hope of a conversation with my DVD, as I ever had of striking up a chat with one of those cool, video-store dudes of yore.