Before all else, allow me to clarify that you are not solely to blame. This editorial expression of disgust is not wholly upon your shoulders, but rather the hive-like collective of gaming Nazis that you call colleagues. My insatiable frustration finds its target on the repulsively anti-social hobgoblins that don Game Crazy and EB uniforms as well–in addition to the rest of your competitors, I’m certain.
Someone needs to explain to you exactly what your responsibilities entail; and I believe that person should be me, for my scorn hides deep within my pasty-white shell.
While you will unquestionably live your melancholy, judgemental lives outside the glass doors of your place of work–for the good of the consumer–you must shed this snake-skin in exchange for your uniform, and from the hours of 10AM to 10PM, pretend to be a fucking person.
Whether I walk into one of your stores to browse the used games, or to make a purchase that I may later regret, you must leave me be. I fully understand the obligation to inquire if I may need assistance, but once I give my final reply, feel free to kindly fuck off behind the counter and continue searching your GameInformer magazine for typos.
As much as I expect someone working in a shoe store to know a good deal about shoes, I assume that you know your shit when it comes to video games–at least to a certain degree. I don’t need to hear about what games you’ve bought, or what you thought of games in the past. Chances are I don’t share your opinions on anything, nor shall I pretend to give a shit.
Some of you believe you’re being noble–sharing a secret knowledge with your costumer to which you, and you alone, have access to. I understand the urge to say, “I’ve played that game. It sucks,” but this is not your place; and in virtually every conceivable circumstance, it’s fucking annoying. Please just assume that I’ve read reviews of the product that I am choosing to haphazardly throw money into, and stay out of the fucking way.
Imagine for a moment that you and your friends all went to see a movie, and when you got there to purchase tickets, the cashier said, “You’re seeing (insert film name here)?! You must be retarded.”
If I’m buying a stupid and probably shitty game, just keep your mouth shut and assume that I’m buying it as a birthday gift for someone I really hate.
And while we’re on the subject, please don’t ask me if I want to reserve a game. The whole reason I’m in the store is that I want to spend my money, and go home with the product in my hand. If I wanted to reserve a game, I’d order it online…and not from GameStop.com.
If I wanted to plunk down half the price of the fucking game 3 months before it’s released, I’d seek medical attention to remove whatever poisonous shard was lodged in my brain.
I’ve already made the mistake of buying the game from you instead of ordering it off of Amazon for half the price, so please just assume I’m so retarded that I don’t even know what a game is.
Surely, I can identify with the nerdgasm that spurts forth when you find any conceivable opportunity to discuss your favorite and least favorite games with someone your own age–or, christ-forbid, a woman–but you have to understand that I’m not your friend. You must know I’m not your friend, because you don’t have any friends–for this reason.
The consistent presumption of inferiority that you place upon everyone who wanders aimlessly into your stores is going to backfire on you, big time. For example–the conveniently located Game Crazy store by my house closed down because no one was buying games there, simply because no one wanted to deal with the arrogant cunts who stood guard.
Do you understand what it means to be human? Can you make social interactions with other humans without applying your delusional brain filter that causes you to somehow believe you’re above other people? Perhaps you are condescending towards the casual gamers because they have other magnificent vices to fill in the gaps in life which you tend to only utilize for masturbating and crying.
I know how much you hate the outside world, but perhaps you would find them more acceptable if you actually made eye contact while you’re speaking with them.
We can’t all be experts in our fields of interest, but when you sit back in your imaginary throne casting relentless judgement on those who inspire your wrath and jealousy, you become just as bad as those Geek Squad pigfuckers at Best Buy.
Ah yes, Best Buy–the mortal enemy of any gamer-friendly chain. While the good employees of Best Buy are more-than-often lazy, arrogant, uninformed, technologically retarded, unhelpful children–it is almost impossible for them to piss you off unless you let them.
Best Buy employees will try to talk you into buying shit you can’t use, paying too much for shit, or buying shit that you already fucking own just by applying the sales advice that is drilled into their mailable brains upon inception. That advice? Fucking Lie.
If you’re susceptible to their charms, you’re a damn fool and deserve to pay $60 for a FireWire cable even though the digital camera you just bought fucking comes with one.
But lying can, at times, be noble–so what do you say guys? Put on your best grown-up expressions, keep your comments and criticisms to yourself unless you’re actually–god forbid–asked for your opinion, and remember to concentrate on the lie hidden behind that ultimate retail question: “How may I help you?”
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