A Christmas Story
Got a lot going on lately, but for now, a short story about an interesting past event in my life:

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Here's a little tale about Metroid Prime 2
Some think it funny, and may even grin
Some think I'm wrong, well hey, fuck you
Disrespect me, and in the end I'll win.

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I hereby denounce Gamestop for having poor customer service and customer oriented values.

I noticed in my G-mail one day that Gamestop was having a sale on used games. Buy two, get one free. I fucking love those sales. Not only that, but Metroid Prime 2, which I've been meaning to own, was on sale for $15.

I head on up to Gamestop during my morning routine, and make my choices. I purchase MP2, Viewtiful Joe (a title that has received much acclaim and was very cheap, so why not), and Xenosaga. Unfortunately, they had no box for MP2 - apparently it was stolen.

Passionate gamers like myself relish things like nicely designed game boxes and artfully created manuals. Hell, we usually read those before playing the game - it's almost ritualistic. However, in the face of this deal, I had to concede that desire. It was just too much to pass up.

However, I had the good idea of checking other local GS's for MP2 boxes. Surely they would accomodate if they could, right? Wrong.

I encountered a particularly annoying group of assholes at the next GS I went to. It was not busy at all, and all the employees were mulling around the cashwrap, one with his hideous troll girlfriend, and they were all squeeking, snorting, and gibbering about anime and hentai.

I butt in and ask if they have an MP2 box I could use. The manager, who I deemed the alpha-nerd because his elevated status in the employment hierarchy has instilled him with some kind of cocky uber-nerd like ability to be smarmy and supercilious, doesn't even look in the storage and tells me he has none.

Alrite, I figured, but I still wanted to look around while I was there; I am never able to just walk in and out of a video game store. So in my meandering, I find a MP2 box. Hm, interesting, I thought. The thought of just grabbing it and leaving flitted through my mind, probably because that's why I didn't have one in the first place, but I dismissed it with rational though. So I grabbed it, walked up to the desk and inform the oily grease-being with bad hair that I found a box, and that I want it.

He's tells me he can't give it to me because it's the display box. I explain to him that the display box for mine was stolen, so that's why I need one. So he goes about to make the swap and asks for my receipt. He gives it a cursory look and then looks up at me and tells me he can't give me the box because it's for a new game, and I bought a used one.

Now, this little detail didn't satisy me. I explained to him that due to the sale this weekend, the new and used versions are the same price. I paid the same amount, so it shouldn't matter what box I get. Besides, the boxes are obviously worth nothing because my lack of one did not bump my price down. He argues that they need to have a display box for the new one they have left; I argue that they can replace it with the blank box that I have, because they do it for used games anyway.

He doesn't budge. The whole time his friends are snickering and flakes of skin and snot are falling off of their disgusting faces. I want to give them paper-cuts on their eyes with their Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

I'm really pissed at this point. The only argument he has is that used games boxes are not equal to new game boxes. What's more is that he is defying the 'customer is always right' paradigm.

Seeing no win for me. I leave. With a bitter, bitter taste in my mouth. Something told me I wasn't done with that guy.

I call up the other GS in town. And, luck be a hapless youth cashier, the pre-pubescent waste of masculinity tells me they have one. Amazing. I tell him I'll be by for it tomorrow. He tells me he will put it aside.

I arrive the next day, he goes to retrieve it. Gone. He claims it was sold. I asked if he put it aside and he said he did, but someone must have sold it. He checks the back to appease me, but to no avail. I curse under my breath and curse the store as I leave.

There was only one option now.

The next day, I return to the GS where my arch-enemy resided. Luckily, he was working. We exchanged glances as I walked in, he recognized me, I could tell. I give him a stone-cold glare and make my way to the other side of the store. Opposite the GameCube games; opposite of MP2. I peruse titles, half out of genuine interest, half out of a desire to mitigate any suspicions of my return.

I surely make my way to the GameCube section. I search for, and find, the MP2 box. Still where I left it. I pick it up, and I pick other boxes up. Pretending to be comparing, contrasting, making a decision. I pace around and read and look. I place the boxes back on the shelf. Back on the shelf closest to the door.

A customer asks the manager about something and he heads into the backroom. Now was my chance. I pocket the case, head out the door, hop into my car, and drive off into the night.

You fuck. Who's laughing now?

Soon, when he makes one of his drones alphabetically arrange the boxes, he'll be informed that it's missing. He'll think for a bit, he'll remember me returning, and he'll know.

I wanted to place a random call and let him know it was me. I wanted to affirm his suspicions and let him know clearly that I got what I wanted, and that I won his little game.

The box and the booklet are worth nothing, but tossing my beard all over his grimy self-important ass for fucking with me, a paying customer with right? Well - that's worth a lot to me.