Priority

One of Fernando's regulars comes into the store one afternoon not long after opening and takes a quick look at the new release rack. "All your Wolverine is already out?" he asks, scowling.

"More like they haven't yet gotten in. I'm expecting all of them back today."

"Okay, how about this," Fernando's customer says. The Keeper hears the skritch of velcro as one of the other rental tags is torn off its case. "Hold this one for me and when the other comes in I'll come down and pick it up."

"That I certainly can do," Fernando says, taking the tag from the gentleman and placing it reverently on the desk in his office. "Did you want me to give you a call?"

"Nah, I'm gonna be running around for a little while anyhow. I'll stop by after I get gas at the station and see if you got it in."

Fernando nods. "Sounds good. If it gets in, I'll hang onto it for you. No promises, though."

And so Fernando's customer departs to complete his errands. A few minutes later a car pulls into the parking lot and a family of father, mother, and daughter clamber out. Fernando is fairly certain they owe him money, but not positive; he could not recall their names, since they had not visited the store in a rather long while, but verification would be swift and sure once he asked their indentity and he took a gander at the late list.

Anyhow, they fan out throughout the store and the two adults chat amongst themselves. Mainly they complain that all of Fernando's copies of Wolverine are out and they rather rudely, in that passive-aggressive not-a-whisper, point out that the Dominion "never has anything good in."

Ignoring or overlooking, of course, that if copies of the goddamn movies are present at opening from the night before without having been rented, the business model is doing something terribly wrong.

The daughter asks if they can rent something else but the mother (who is the one Fernando suspects of owing money) puts her foot down and tells the youngster that if the movies the grown-ups want isn't in, she "doesn't deserve" to rent Smurfs 2. At this moment, two more vehicles crunch over the snow in the parking lot simultaneously. One of them is the gentleman who had just been in. The other one is a truck owned by a man who had, on the previous day, come in and rented Wolverine. Fernando rises from his chair, scoops up the other tag which he had been asked to hold, and walks up to the counter to begin filling out a rental slip in anticipation of things to come.

Fernando's earlier visitor parked slightly closer to the front door, so he is the one inside first. "Did it make it?" he asks.

Fernando points over the man's shoulder at the second gent crossing the parking lot, who carries a stack of three movies. "He's got one, right there."

"Attaboy."

The mother, having deduced something potentially interesting albeit irrelevant to her own sad life is amiss, has since sidled closer to the counter to listen in on the conversation. The father and daughter are off in the kids' section of the store doing Pazuzu-knows-what.

The chimes tinkle and the second man enters. Fernando takes the films from him. "Thank you much." He sets two of them behind the counter and leaves the third, Wolverine. The second man squeezes past the mother, who lurks near the archway, with a low, "Excuse me," and browses the rental racks.

"Which ones did you bring back?" she asks him.

"Uh, The Thing, 2 Guns, and Wolverine," he answers.

Meanwhile, the transaction between Fernando and the first man has been completed. "Thank you much," Fernando says as the man walks out with his movies. "Have a good evening." He gathers up the rental slip and sets it on his desk, then goes about returning the rental tags for the other two movies to their cases out on the floor. He is peripherally aware of the woman approaching the counter.

"Yeah, I heard you got a Wolverine in." the woman tells Fernando.

Fernando briefly glances over at her. "I did, but it just went out again," he says, replacing the remaining cases on the shelf.

"I wanted that one."

"I'm sorry," Fernando tells her. "I am expecting my other copies back, if you would like me to hold one for you and let you know when it gets in."

"Why did you let that other guy just have it?"

Fernando blinks. "Because he asked nicely for me to hold a copy for him." He pauses, mulling over precisely how large a dick he wanted to be at this moment. He arrives at the conclusion "titanic." "And if I had put it out onto the floor, I would not have kept that promise."

The woman's mouth becomes a hard line and she fixes a death glare upon Fernando's uncaring self. The Keeper repeats his earlier offer, "Did you want me to hold one for you and give you a call if I get it in?"

"No," she hisses, sotto voce. "We're leaving."

"Alright. Have a good evening." With that, Fernando weaves through the rental racks to return the other two tags to their homes.

He ignores her so thoroughly that he does not even give a cursory glance over his shoulder when the door chimes jingle twice in rapid succession from the family's departure.

The second man rents three movies and has the social grace not to comment on what had just transpired.

Call Forward

Fernando sits at his computer one dreary day and banters with a friend. It has been one of those profoundly slow Wednesdays on which the weather is just bad enough to encourage people to stay home but not quite bad enough to goad them into renting movies. The chimes jingle and a man enters the store. “Yeah, I'm here to pick up the movie you're holding for me?”

“Er...which one was this?” Fernando asks. He has one reservation in the pipes, but it is for a different guy and he is waiting for said guy to arrive to collect them. It is possible, however, that this other man is here to pick up on the reservation in question.

“White House Down.”

Fernando blinks. “I'm sorry, I don't have any copies of that on hold for anybody.”

“Hey, I called you twenty minutes ago and you told me you would hold one.”

Fernando tilts his head. “I have gotten no phone calls all day.”

“Listen, you told me you would hold that movie for me.”

“I received no calls from anybody asking that I hold that movie. There's good news, though.”

“What's that?” he asks, knitting his brows together.

“I have copies of it in. Would you like to rent one of those?”

This is works for him.

Still Not a Time Traveler

The Conjuring is a film that a not insignificant portion of Fernando's customer base had been waiting on for some time. When, sometime in September, he was finally able to give people a release date, he was inundated with requests to reserve a copy for whomever on said date. Fernando pointed out that he wasn't even sure how many copies he would be getting, exactly, and that he did not want to pull an airline and overbook the reservations and leave some poor souls hanging, so he told the people, “Come back mid-October, like the fifteenth or so, and ask again then.

So, it's now mid-October, and an older woman comes into the store with grandchildren in tow. Fernando says “grandchildren” because this lady is, for all intents and purposes, a rental proxy for her daughter, someone Fernando rightly told off way back in the day when he informed her that she had thirty-eight dollars in late fees dating back to 2006 and that, no, he would not rent to her unless she put money towards it. Fernando still rents to her, since she pays off the inevitable late fees racked up under her name.

The kids are set loose in the family section while the matron wanders the floor yammering into her cell phone and getting snappish with her conversational partner, since all the movies said partner desired (The Heat, Hangover 3, and This Is the End) were absent from the rental racks, and they stubbornly remained absent even after the old lady asked Fernando if he was hiding copies behind the counter. The matron also took the opportunity to make a passive-aggressive jibe to the person on the phone at Fernando's expense, because, after all, “the guy running the joint doesn't know anything.”

Then she asks, “Do you have The Conjuring?”

“Sorry, that doesn't come out until Tuesday.”

“It says there that you have it.”

Fernando's eyes rotate in their sockets to double-check his sign in case someone had tampered with it, but, no, the header still reads UPCOMING RELEASES FOR OCTOBER 2013. “It's not yet the twenty-second.”

“I seen it on display at Wal-Mart.”

“Perhaps you could then go to Wal-Mart and buy a copy. I'm not surprised they have access to better time travel technology than I do.”

With that, the woman returns to the rental racks and eventually decides to rent This Is 40.

That's Why

Late one evening, a few scant minutes before Fernando is set to close for the night, a scruffy man enters. He wears a sweatshirt stained with dirt and food, and his jeans are likewise worn and besmirched. He also has sheath upon his belt which holds a knife with a blade maybe four inches long, and he smells of pine resin.

Fernando chalks him up as an out-of-town hunter.

“Hey, do you have Open Range?” he asks without preamble.

Fernando scratches his cheek. “I had it at one point, but somebody rented it a while back and failed to return it.”

“I've been looking everywhere for that son of a bitch movie and can't find it.”

“Well, if you like, I could order in a copy for you to buy. I don't know how much it would be, probably around ten bucks or so, and it might take a couple weeks to get it in, but I'm more than happy to if you'll be around to pick it up.”

“Yeah, do that.” The guy turns and marches towards the door.

“Um...I'll need your name and number.”

“What for?”

“So I can tell you the price and let you know when it gets in, if you end up interested in ordering it at that price.”

“I already told you I'm interested.”

“I know. But this way you'll know.”

So the man leaves his first name and a cell phone at which he can be reached. The area code, once Fernando besought Goo-Gol's insight, turns out to originate from southern Indiana. This bodes quite well, indeed.

But, Fernando is a man of his word and he performed the appropriate research, locating a copy of the film in question and pricing it for the gentleman. After opening the next day, Fernando calls the number provided and leaves a voice message informing the gent what the price will be and that he will go ahead with the order once he receives confirmation, and once a deposit of five dollars has been placed.

Time passes, and a few hours later the phone rings. The caller ID reads OUT OF STATE.

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.

“Yeah, this is Greece. You called me about the movie?”

“I did indeed. I just wanted to let you know I've got a price for Open Range and I'll put in the order on that once you come down to place a deposit.”

“Just go ahead and order it.”

“Right, I will, but I need the deposit first.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll come in to get it, don't worry.”

“That's nice, but I still need the deposit.”

“I told you that I'll come in to pick it up, and we'll square up then. I really want that movie.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem coming down to pay the deposit.”

A long pause, at least ten seconds in duration. “Alright, fine.”

The guy hasn't yet come in to provide aforementioned deposit.

Crawling in My Skin

 “What's that?” asks one of Fernando's regular customers as he peers over the counter and into the office, the one whose input and ideas are always taken with utmost gravity.

“Dungeon Crawl:Stone Soup,” replies Fernando, turning towards his keyboard and monitor for a brief moment before swiveling his gaze back to the customer.

“It looks kind of like Diablo,” the customer says.

“You're...not wrong.” Fernando is rather surprised by this insight. “They're kind of similar genres, though this one is way harder.”

“It doesn't look hard. It's not even moving.”

“It's turn-based. Things don't happen until I move or otherwise choose for them to happen. And I've played this thing off-and-on for, like, six years now. Never beaten it.”

“Maybe you're just not good enough at it.”

“There is an argument to be made on that front, absolutely. It takes a lot of skill to beat one of these. At least it's somewhat fair in that it doesn't obfuscate information from the player like similar games.” COUGH Nethack.

“Hey, Fern, do you know if you have The Croods?”

“I do indeed.” Fernando rises from his chair and crossed to the shelves on which the movies sleep to pick out a copy.

“Oh, I don't want to rent it. I was just wondering.” He turns and leaves.

Huh.

In a Way It's Fitting, Really

A lady who hadn't come to the store in at least two years enters and asks to rent Identity Thief. Fernando does not have any copies in at the moment, but he gives her the song and dance he always does about holding movies and phone calls and assorted other similar trappings. She feels this is a fine idea and gives Fernando a cell number. It has an outlandish area code and the first three digits of the local number are also ones not found on area cell phones.

“That's my friend's. My phone is out of order right now,” she says.

“Oh...okay,” says Fernando, who doesn't really care one way or the other as long as her plan for him to get in touch with her works.

Time passes, a customer returns Identity Thief, and Fernando makes the phone call.

-Ring ring ring-

“Hello?” It is a man's voice.

“Hi, this is Fernando calling from the Dominion of Movies. I just wanted to let you know Identity Thief was back in--”

“Where? I didn't want anything held. Who is this?” Fernando can't place the accent—it's definitely American, but it is not any with which he is immediately familiar.

“--so....Fernando Stevens, calling from the Dominion of Movies in Salasolda. And no, no you did not. But Bhutan Lecithin came in earlier and asked me to call you on her behalf--”

“I got nothing to do with her anymore.” The man sounds perturbed, his voice a crackly growl.

“Oh. Then I am at a bit of an impasse.”

“Guess so. Have a good one.” The strange man hangs up.

Bhutan never came in to pick up Identity Thief.

Prerelease

 “Hey, do you have that movie with the kids and their grandparents?”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean Parental Guidance? No, that doesn't come out until the 26^th.”

“Right, but do you have it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would like for me to hold it for you for the 26^th? I would be happy to do so.”

“I'd like to see it now.”

“I'd like to see The Hobbit Part Two right now as well.”

She left.

Ire of the Keeper

Rise of the Guardians proved to be a pretty popular release. Fernando had many people ask that he hold a copy for them during its first week on the shelf. Fernando did such reservations, and gladly, for he much enjoys making money and providing good service to his customers.

One evening a gentleman comes to the store and asks if Fernando has any copies available.

“Sorry, not right now. I am expecting some back yet today, if you wanted me to hold one.”

“Yeah, that'd be great. Give me a call when one does.” He leaves.

One does come in, and Fernando dutifully contacts the gentleman. He leaves a message, sets aside the movie, and waits. Alas, he never came in. Fine, life happens. The next morning Fernando takes the copy and returns its corresponding tag out to the floor. Customers come and go and all of the Rises of the Guardians Fernando has in vanish in short order.

Early in the evening the man comes into the store. “Yeah, you got that movie for me?”

“Rise of the Guardians? No, all my copies are out.”

“You said you'd hold it for me.”

“That was for yesterday.”

“No it wasn't.”

“...Yes it was.”

The argument having reached its conclusion, the man selects another film. “Okay then, save me another copy once one gets in.”

“Can do.”

None are returned over the remainder of the evening, but all of them are nestled in the drop box the following morning like Peeps in their house. Seeing as the gentleman must return the movies he'd rented the day before, Fernando calls him to ask if he ought to perhaps save one of the movies for such a time. He tells Fernando “Not right now.”

Okay, cool. Back out onto the floor they go.

Around six in the evening the man brings back yesterday's rentals. The first words out of his mouth: “Got any Rise of the Guardians?”

“No.”

“What about the ones you said you had earlier?”

“I put those all back out on the floor when you said you didn't want me to hold one, and other people picked them up.”

“Oh. When are you expecting some back.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Call me as soon as one gets in.”

The cycle repeats itself. Copies rest in the drop box. Fernando gives the man a call and is once again shunted to the answering service. He tells the man that a copy of Rise of the Guardians is available for him to come by and pick up.

The other copies make Fernando money, but the last one sits behind the counter, sad and alone. Other customers come in asking about that movie, if Fernando has any available, but Fernando cannot let the one remaining copy go because he gave his word that it would be kept available, and Fernando does not renege on his promises.

Come closing time, it is still resting behind the counter. Fernando sighs and shakes his head.

It is now a few days later. The man pulls into the parking lot about an hour after opening time and enters the store. Fernando has copies of Rise of the Guardians in. Nothing can go wrong this time.

The man gives the new release rack a cursory glance before approaching the counter. “Hey, you got any Zero Dark Thirty back there?”

This...this was not how things were meant to go! The previous knot of incompetence and failure was to have been solved Gordian-style! “No,” answers Fernando.

“Could you hold one for me?”

At this point Fernando's frustrations over being jerked around over roughly the past week bubble to the surface. “Will you come in and pick it up this time?” he asks rather crossly.

Fernando's guest has the good grace to at least appear a mite sheepish. “Something came up,” he offers by way of excuse, though not apology.

“Indeed.” Fernando thinks for a moment. “Tell you what, it's rent-one-get-one today. Pick something out now and I'll call you later once I've got a copy of Zero Dark available for you, and that can be the free one for today.”

This plan sounds good to the man. He picks up a copy of The Hobbit and departs.

Fernando just happened not to have any copies of Zero Dark Thirty which were to be made available to this particular man come in that day.

Web of Lies

The phone rings one Friday evening around six. Fernando picks up. “Hello, Dominion of Movies?”

“Yeah, do you have that new Spiderman movie in?”

The Amazing Spiderman, ah. The copies of the film in question are in Fernando's keeping, just not in. “No, actually that comes out tomorrow.”

“You don't have any there now?”

“Even if I did, I couldn't let you have it. But tomorrow is not far off. Did you want me to hold one for you for then?”

“Nah, don't bother. I just wanted to see if you had it there tonight for me.”

“Oh. Alright. Yeah, tomorrow's when it comes out.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Good-bye.” And that should have been the end of that.

Saturday followed Friday as is often the case and Fernando's copies of The Amazing Spiderman vanished in short order. Around four in the afternoon a young man enters the Dominion. He heads over to the new release rack, investigates it for a few seconds, and then comes up to the counter.

“Yeah, you got any copies of Spiderman in?”

“No, sorry. Those all went out today. I'm expecting them back tomorrow, if you'd like me to hang onto one for you.”

“No, I wanted to come down today and pick one up.”

“Sorry. I can't help you with that.”

“What the hell, man? You said you'd have it in tomorrow yesterday.”

Oh, this was that guy. “Rrrrright? I also asked if you would like for me to hold a copy for you for today, and I was told not to.”

“I didn't know you did that.”

What in fucking fuck? Do the words that Fernando says no longer have meanings comprehensible to the bulk of humanity? “Yeah...that's why I made the offer yesterday. Would've been pointless and silly otherwise.”

“Oh.” The guy looks down at the glass of Fernando's counter for a short while. “I'll be back later, then.”

“Alrighty. Have a good evening.”

Fernando remembers having to take listening comprehension sections on standardized tests back in his elementary and high school days. Do they not do that anymore or something?

Ghost Riding the Ghost Rider

One week in June when Fernando's movies failed to arrive on time, a customer came down to the store seeking Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance.

“I'm sorry, but my movies didn't get in today,” says Fernando. “I'm expecting them in tomorrow, however.”

The guy looks at Fernando askance. “Are you sure you're not holding out on me?”

“Fairly positive. I can comprehend the downsides of not letting you rent the movie you want to rent.”

“Will you hold one for me tomorrow, then?”

“Absolutely I can. Do you want to give me your number so I can call to remind you?”

“Nah, you won't need to do that.”

Sigh. “Okay then. I'll have one set aside for you when I open.”

The morrow comes, the movies arrive, and Fernando upholds his end of the bargain. While all the other new releases are snatched up, Ghost Rider sits, despondent, on the desk. Never could've seen that coming.

At around 6 PM Fernando decides enough is enough. He digs through his records for the gent's cell number, finds it, dials it. It's been disconnected.

Alrighty. However much it pains him, he keeps the copy of Ghost Rider set aside on the increasingly improbable chance that the guy will appear before closing time. Meanwhile, other customers come asking about the movie and Fernando must turn them away. Some of them place reservations on it for the following day. At closing time, the movie is still here. The lucky soul at the top of tomorrow's Ghost Rider reservation list has a copy waiting for him when Fernando opens the next day.

About a week later, the same guy asks for the movie to held for him again and informs Fernando that something important came up and that's why he couldn't come pick it up. He does not offer further explanation or apology for not calling Fernando to keep him in the loop.

“I'm sorry that had to happen,” says Fernando. He empathizes with people who have familial hardships or other emergencies that require immediate attention.

“Nah, my friend asked me to come to his barb--” Here the man catches himself, perhaps realizing a bit too late that he is saying things to Fernando which are not smart.

Unfortunately, what's done is done, and Fernando will not hold movies for this man any longer.

God Bless

-Ring ring ring- goes the phone one Saturday afternoon.

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

“Hi, this is France Zip-Bag. I'm calling from Zail-Kanzin Church and I was wondering if you had a movie.”

“Which one would that be?”

“Letters to God. We were showing it today for our parishioners but we've misplaced our copy.”

“I should have it around here somewhere. Let me check right quick for you.” Fernando heads out into the store and scans the shelves for the DVD case. It is nowhere to be found. “Well, the case isn't on the rack out here where it should be but I know I've got it.” He returns into the office and searches the shelves back there. “Nineteen-twenty-three...twenty-three...there we are! Yeah, got it right here.”

“Great. We'll be down in two minutes to pick it up.”

Zail-Kanzin is maybe a seven, eight minute drive to the south from Saladolsa, but it turns out Mr. Zip-Bag was not fibbing. A vehicle pulls in from the north side of the highway. A women climbs out and enters the store. “Hello!” Fernando greets her.

She appears flustered. “Hi. Um, I'm looking for Letters to God. I just got a phone call asking for me to pick it up for a thing we're putting on down at Zail-Kanzin Church.”

“I've got it right here.” Fernando does one of the things which he does best and the woman is sent back on her way with grace and efficiency.

“You're a lifesaver. God bless you!” she says as she leaves.

I feel like I got a ring of Wish with a single charge and I don't want to squander it....

As the World Turns

-Ring ring ring- goes the phone one day not long after opening.

“Hello, Dominion of Movies?” Fernando says into the phone.

“Yeah, do you have Zookeeper?”

“I don't have any copies in at the moment, but I'm expecting a bunch back. Did you want me to hold one and give you a call when it gets in?”

“Yeah, do that. Do you have my number?”

“Yes'm, got it in my records here,” Fernando responds.

Time passes and, joy of joys, somebody returns a copy of the movie. Fernando rings up the lady in question. You know those things where people do you the “pleasure” of “listening to the music while your party is reached?” Why is the music uniformly bad?

Anyhow, Fernando is shunted to voicemail, so he leaves a message informing the lady that her movie is in. And, yup, she never shows up to collect it. The following day Fernando puts the tag back out on the rack and income is made as that copy of Zookeeper is snapped up.

Our story continues two days after the initial reservation was made. The lady for whom Fernando was to hold the film pulls up. “Yeah, you were holding Zookeeper for me?” she says.

Fernando flicks a quick glance at his shelves, where he notices all copies of that movie are absent. “I don't have any copies in right now, unfortunately.”

“You said you'd hold it for me!”

“...That was two days ago. I called and told you I had a copy in. It was never collected, so yesterday it was rented out when I put it back on the floor.”

“Yeah, but you said you'd hold it!”

“Right. Now, I am expecting copies back later today. Did you want me to hold one for you for today?”

For a second the woman looks like she might spite Fernando's generous offer to again do the thing which resulted in him making slightly less money for her benefit. Instead she agrees to the proposition.

This time when the movie got in and Fernando called her and braved the horrible music, she was prompt in picking it up.

Reiteration

Rainy Saturdays are the best Saturdays because that type of Saturday brings a great deal of custom to Fernando's Dominion. One evening on such a rainy Saturday a woman enters the store.

“Oh, cool, Bridesmaids,” says she, reading Fernando's Weekly Releases Whiteboard. She enters deeper into the store and finds the film's location on the new release rack. At this point, because it's been a rainy and incredibly busy Saturday, all of Fernando's copies have been rented out already by other people.

She makes a show of browsing for a minute or two, then comes up to the counter. The woman tells Fernando, “Yeah, I'd like Bridesmaids.”

“I'm sorry,” answers Fernando. “I'm fresh out of them for the night. I can hold one for you for tomorrow or some other time, though, if you'd like.”

“No, I'd like it for tonight. Tomorrow doesn't work.”

“Well, like I said, I can't help you. All of my copies have already come and gone.”

“So you don't have any sitting back there right now?”

“Afraid not.”

“You're sure?”

Fernando glances over his shoulder to the drop box, empty at the moment. “Positive.”

“That's not one there, is it?” the woman persists, pointing at a case resting upon Fernando's desk near the computer.

“No, actually. It's Hanna. I'm holding it for someone to pick up later.”

“And you're sure you don't have any back there?”

“If I did, believe me, you would know about it. I like making money on movies and I can tell you have a great interest in seeing it. There'd be no reason for me to troll you, not to mention myself, by keeping it hidden and hoping that someone would come in and rent it later.”

At this point Life, having just heard the word “troll,” decides Fernando needs additional annoyance in his routine, as someone pulls up to the store and dumps a few movies into the drop box. Fernando's customer, a relentless optimist, jumps to the conclusion she most desires. “Is that it?” she thunders.

“I doubt it,” answers Fernando as he goes to check. “Nope. Rio and True Grit. Care for either?”

“No. I wanted Bridesmaids,” she grouses. Then she leaves.

Too bad you can't always get what you want.

I've Changed My Mind

-Ring ring ring-

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

“Yeah, do you have a copy of Insidious in?”

“You're lucky. I've only got one left for the night. Did you want me to hold that for you?”

“Yeah, I'll be down later to pick it up.”

So Fernando plucks the tag and sets it aside. Customers come, customers go, and more than one (two, to be exact) asks about Insidious and whether or not it is available. Fernando informs them that, sadly, all copies are spoken for tonight but that he expects them back the following day. Some of those customers (all, to be exact) take Fernando up on that offer, asking him to notify them once one becomes available.

But you, dear readers, are genre savvy, so you can figure out where things are going already, I'm sure: the guy who has the copy set aside for him never comes in. Figures.

So, the following day, Fernando calls up the first person on his list immediately after opening because, what do you know, he has a copy of Insidious on hand for renting. The person thanks Fernando, hastens to the store, picks it and another movie up, and is on her merry way.

Ah, but, as you may have guessed, there's more.

Around five an 18ish year old wearing a baseball cap sideways saunters into the store. “Yeah, I'm here for Insidious.”

Fernando blinks twice. “I don't have any copies in at the moment. I am still expecting one back tonight, though.”

“You told me you'd hold it for me.”

“Riiiiight. And you told me you'd be in to pick it up yesterday. I had other people waiting for the movie and I'm not psychic, so I went with the option that would actually make me money.”

“Yeah, but you said you'd hold it for me yesterday.”

“Precisely. That was yesterday. You didn't come in to pick it up, and you didn't call me to let me know you'd like it carried over to today.”

“I've changed my mind. I don't want it anymore.” And he storms out.

One of Fernando's regular customers who was browsing the store at the time chuckles at what had just transpired because this customer apparently found what Fernando had said to be amusing. He does not change his mind and so rents some movies and leaves.

Q&A

A customer a few years Fernando's junior enters the store with her fiveish-year-old daughter. She selects some rental tags and brings them to the counter. Transaction goes through without incident.

“Do you think you could hold Rango for me for tomorrow?” she asks.

“Absolutely. Once I get a copy in I'll set it aside for you for when you return these.”

“Awesome.” She waits a beat before continuing, “What would you do if I came in with a full stamp card?” She puts queer emphasis on the word and leers at Fernando in a sort of awkward manner.

“Um, probably give you a free rental?”

“That's it? What if I came in with two​?”

“Then you'd get two free rentals.”

This answer for some reason disappoints her. “Oh,” she says. “I'll see you tomorrow, then.” And she leaves.

Weird.

Release Schedule

One muggy, June afternoon....

-Ring ring ring-

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

“Yeah, hi. I'm calling to see if you have Source Code in.”

“Source Code? Er, no, can't say that I do.”

“That's a bummer. Why don't you have it?”

“Partly because I have no control over when studios choose to release movies to DVD and mostly because the studios haven't given a home release date for it yet, let alone released it.”

“That sucks. There's nothing you can do about that, huh?”

Fernando guffaws. “You have no idea how much I would love having the power of getting the movies that people want to see into their hands the instant they want to see them. Instead, I get to struggle with getting movies I've already paid for into my hands in time for release day.”

As Source Code is unavailable, the gentleman decides to have Fernando hold True Grit and Eagle Eye for him instead.

Used Goods

-Ring ring ring-

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

The voice on the other end is unfamiliar to Fernando. “Yeah, I was wondering if you had any copies of Red there.”

Fernando takes a quick look at the aisle. “Uh, I don't have any in right now, but if you want I can give you a call as soon as I get one back, if you'll give me your name and number.”

“Oh, I meant if you had any copies up for sale.”

“Wow, coincidental. Actually, I was planning to throw one up on the sales rack tomorrow. Did you want me to hold that for you?”

“Yeah. I'll be down.”

So Fernando places the case for Red behind the counter and the following day he readies it for purchase. About an hour after opening a guy Fernando has never seen before comes in. “Yeah, I'm here for Red,” he says.

“Right here. It'll be eight bucks.”

“Wow, that's a great deal.” Then the man looks down and frowns. “It's used.”

“Well, yes. That's why it's eight dollars.”

“I wanted a new copy. You told me you had a new copy.”

Now it's Fernando's turn to frown. “Er. No. Sorry, but generally my sales are used. I do do special orders though, but generally those are for hard-to-find movies instead of stuff that's been just released that you can easily find at Wal-Mart or wherever.”

“You told me it would be a new copy. Do you have a new copy?”

“I'm afraid I said no such thing. The only copy of Red I have for sale is the one on the counter in front of you. Sorry.”

This does not satisfy the man's consumption needs, so he leaves. The copy of Red is placed on the sales rack and is snapped up by one of Fernando's regular customers later that day.

Open Quests

A middle-aged woman enters the store one weekday afternoon and browses for a bit. Then she comes up to the counter and asks, “Do you have any VCRs?”

Fernando looks up from doing his monthly sales taxes. “Er, you mean VHS tapes or the actual players?”

“The tapes.”

“I've got a few milling around yet, but I'm phasing them out because the only way to get the players is secondhand and they don't release movies on the tapes at all anymore. I've got a rack of them up for sale if you want to take a look. They're a buck apiece, or six for five dollars.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” And the woman shuffles over to the VHS sale rack while Fernando returns his attention to matters of taxation. A few minutes later, he hears the woman reapproach the counter and he again turns to face her. She sets a single tape down.

“Could you hold this for me? I'll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” says Fernando, who places the VHS tape in question behind the counter. Then she exits the store.

Fernando waited two days for her to return before putting the movie back on the sale rack.

Jackassitude Four

Time passes, and it becomes quarter after seven. Fernando's other copies of Jackass 3 have all been returned, and they have all gone out again because people inexplicably want to watch that dreck. But the one set aside for Mr. Salami lingers on Fernando's desk by its lonesome. The Walking Dead has already been collected, as has The Next Three Days. Fernando is not optimistic it will even be collected, as that is how things tend to unfold when someone absolutely must have a particular movie set aside for him or her.

Then a car pulls up and the two girls from earlier reenter the store. “Yeah, we're here for Jackass 3. Do you have it?” asks the one with the voluntary nasal disfigurement.

“Of course,” Fernando replies, flashing the case and moving to the counter. He sets about filling the rental slip out and asks, “Can I get your name?”

“Alister Crowley.”

Why is that name familiar? thinks Fernando, filling out the rental slip as he peripherally checks out the late list. Is it...?

As Fernando shuffles about looking as if he's doing something meaningful, he positions himself to get a closer view of the late list. And there it is: Crowley, Alister. 2/20/09. $1.50.

“Uh, turns out you actually have a tiny late fee--” begins Fernando before he is rudely interrupted.

“What? How? From when?”

“From February of 2009. A buck fifty.”

“You're serious?”

Fernando allows a bit of snark to enter his voice. “I generally find it is bad business sense to create late fees out of whole cloth.” He goes to his desk and withdraws the Tiny-But-Not-Really Binder of Late Fees, A-M, then flips through it to the C's. And there it was. He shows her the slip inside the book and she shrugs in mute acceptance.

“Fine. I'll pay it.”

“It'll be five dollars altogether.” She hands over a wad of singles and departs.

And so the saga of Jackass 3 came to an anticlimactic end.

Jackassitude 3

About forty minutes later, around 3ish on that same Saturday, Fernando had just reached the part with the paragraph starting “Fernando resists the urge to sigh in frustration,” when the phone rings again. (Fernando is not a slow typist or one who finds it difficult to place words next to other words in a narrative. It's just that he has to help customers in a timely manner).

“Hello, Dominion of Movies.”

“Yeah, it's Sammy again. Has it gotten in yet?”

Fernando closes his eyes and thinks happy thoughts and says, “No, unfortunately, it hasn't yet. But you're still at the top of the list.”

“Ok, cool. Uh, could you try calling me at this number instead of the other one? My phone doesn't get good reception out here.”

Fernando peers at the caller ID, which reads CELLULAR CALL. “If you could give that to me, it'd be great. The caller ID isn't showing me the number.”

“Oh. Well, it's 011-0011.”

“Got it,” says Fernando after scribbling out the first number and scrawling the second next to it.

“But if nobody answers at this one, call the other one.”

Fernando frowns at his Notebook of Infinite Might and Justice and the illegible jumble of ink that was the first number. He can just barely make out the numbers that existed before the defacing. “Will do.”

“Ok. Bye.” And Sammy hangs up.

An hour later, someone finally returns a copy of Jackass 3. And Fernando calls up Mr. Salami at the second number he gave and, after a few rings, a voice at the other end that is definitely not Mr. Salami says, “Hello?”

“Yeah, this is Fernando from the Dominion of Movies. I'm calling to let Mr. Salami know that I just got back a copy of Jackass 3 so he can come by to pick it up.”

“Oh, ok. I'll let him know.” And the mystery man on the other end hangs up without another word.

To Be Continued....