All this talk about Netflix over the past few days, caused me to reminisce about now-near-extinct, video stores of bygone years. 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. DVD’s arrive in our mailbox with regular precision, twice or three times a week.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
It’s hopeless. Even this technique will get no response.
Slan agus beannacht leat!
(Goodbye and blessings)
Irish American Mom
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