During my time in college, I worked at a local video store to pick up some extra spending cash.

Being a huge movie buff, I loved my part-time job. From heated debates with co-workers and customers about the finer points of film trivia to being able to take an early glimpse at what new releases we would be stocking the walls with every Tuesday, my job was full of perks.

Not everything was sunshine and flowers, though. There were, of course, the stupid customers.

There were the people who demanded a refund on Texas Chainsaw Massacre because they did not realize how inappropriate the film would be for their four-year-old — despite the words “Texas,” “Chainsaw” and “Massacre” being in the title. There were people who tried to return foreign films because they “didn’t want none of that reading” in their movie. And, worst of all, there were the people who didn’t bother to read the back of the box for the movie they were buying before they bought it.

I once had a thirty-minute argument with a customer who was surprised that the copy of The Bridge to Terabithia she had rented was the 1985 version and not the 2007 version that was, at that time, currently playing in theaters. To make matters worse, she was upset that while the video box had pictures of fairies and goblins, the actual movie was “really boring.” Needless to say, she did not get her refund.

This was not an isolated experience either. Customers were constantly being fooled by movies. Whether it was renting Snakes on a Train instead of Snakes on a Plane or The Da Vinci Treasure instead of The Da Vinci Code, deceptive packaging and a timely appropriation of a famous name tricked many a customer into renting a substandard film.

I used to mock the customers foolish enough to rent a cheesy direct-to-video version of The Black Dahlia instead of the Brian De Palma film scheduled to be released that summer. Surely customers couldn’t possibly think that they had somehow found the only video store in the world that carried major Hollywood movies before they were released in theaters.

I have realized, though, that it’s not the customer’s fault. It’s the fault of the slimy video companies who like to make a quick buck through bait and switch.

Through the use of these so-called “Mockbusters,” films made with a low budget and created with the sole-intention of riding the coattails of a summer blockbuster, studios are all to keen to make a quick buck off of somebody else’s misfortune. One studio alone, The Asylum, has been responsible for such cinematic rip-offs as AVH: Alien vs. Hunter, Transmorphers, I Am Omega, Sunday School Musical, The Day The Earth Stopped and so many more.

So how can customers protect themselves against renting Pirates of Treasure Island when they really meant to rent Pirates of the Caribbean or from buying When a Killer Calls when they had intended to purchase When a Stranger Calls?

It’s tricky sometimes. These Mockbuster studios are notorious for releasing their films with box art derivative of famous movie posters. The key is to always to read the back of the box. Always.

If, for some reason, you are still unsure if you are holding the right movie in your hands, feel free to ask one of the store employees. Once they finish laughing at you, they will be more then happy to help you find the right movie.

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Tips for making the most out of your Hastings “buy back” experience.

While working at Hastings, one of the most interesting parts of the job (besides busting petty criminals) involved buybacks. Hastings Entertainment not only sells merchandise, it buys used books, movies and CDs from customers looking to rid themselves of their wares. Whenever I would process a buyback, I found myself theorizing why, exactly, a customer was selling a specific book, movie or CD to us.

Sometimes, based on the appearance of the customer, it was pretty easy to spot a need for fast cash. Unlike some stores that buy used merchandise, Hastings offers an extra percentage of money it will purchase your items for if you choose to receive store credit instead of cash. This percentage is not a small one either. For example, instead of receiving $8 cash for a couple of books, you could get a gift card for $16. If a customer came into the store and sold us a large quantity of merchandise and chose to receive cash instead of credit, it was safe bet that he had an immediate need for money to be used for something besides entertainment.

One time, a man with a scraggily beard and rail thin arms came in to sell us a stack of DVDs. In the stack were at least two dozen Disney cartoons. Either the man was selling his children’s movie collection or he had just robbed a day care center. There is no doubt in my mind that I processed buybacks for stolen merchandise. Sometimes we would get customers who came in and sold us movies that had just been released the previous day — often the films were still in shrink-wrap. Another clue that we were dealing with stolen merchandise was when people came in to sell us multiple copies of the same CD, movie or book.

The other scam that people like to pull (which is actually not a bad idea) was to go to Half Price Books, a thrift store or any other place that sells used books for less then a dollar. These customers would buy as many clean-looking books as they could and then sell them at Hastings for a profit. Unlike Half Price Books, who is notorious for ripping customers off in their buyback process, Hastings gives a fair amount for books. For a 25 cent copy of a five year old John Grissom hardback you bought at a used book fair, you can fetch up to $4 at Hastings.

When you go to sell your merchandise, bring a lot of it at one time in order to make your trip worthwhile — but do not bring too much. If you make the buyback process an event, the cashier will devote their full attention to it – analyzing every CD or DVD for the smallest of scratches.

Another tip for making the most out of selling your stuff is to pick your cashier carefully. When faced with multiple cashiers, always pick the one who either seems rushed or completely devoid of concern. These cashiers won’t pay too much attention to what you are selling and will pass your merch through just so they can get back to watching the movie playing on the store’s TV monitors.

What you don’t want to do is sell your stuff to the over-educated college kid working in retail for extra cash. These kids, trying to insert a sense of purpose and duty into their jobs, will go the extra mile and ratchet up the intensity of their judgment when it comes to inspecting your merchandise. I should know, I was one of those kids.

If you are looking to sell your stuff, your best bet is to go Hastings first, sell as much as you can and take the store credit. Whatever is left, take to Half Price Books. They’ll buy anything but will only give you the smallest fraction of what it’s worth. Just make sure you’re ready to part with what you’re selling. You don’t want to have to buy it back in a couple of months.

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I was the Jack Bauer of entertainment store retail.

During my last year of college, I worked at an entertainment retail store for six months.

This job, my first in retail, was a strong introduction into the world of customer service. In my few months as an employee, I learned the dark secrets that lurked behind putting products on the shelves in addition to discovering the joy of employee discounts.

Not to brag, but I was pretty good at my job.

I mastered the art of balancing video rental stacks four feet high and grew more than proficient in dealing with irate customers’ complaints about scratched DVDs.

I performed product exchanges like a well-oiled machine and was the undisputed master of the store intercom.

Within a month of being hired, I was promoted to a general store manager position.

I was the Jack Bauer of entertainment retail stores.

The problem of being the Jack Bauer of something, though, is that you tend to attract other masters of their domain.

It was on a night shift during my third month at the job that I had my first and only run-in with the Jack Bauer of homeless people.

I had been at work for five hours and was just starting to get my second wind. I had finished stocking videos and was headed to the front register to get another stack when I saw a group of associates talking in an excited manner at the main counter.

I, being the manager on duty, went up to them and asked what was wrong.

Apparently, an elderly gentleman was posted outside the store and was telling people that he was a federal agent who needed help defusing a bomb.

After taking a few seconds to realize the employees were not joking, I ventured outside to see what was going on.

Taking a peak out the front door, I confirmed that there was indeed a man and that he indeed had cornered a customer and was mumbling something to him.

The man, who I shall from henceforth refer to as Holmes the Semi-Scary Homeless Dude, had all of three teeth in his mouth, smelled like cheap fruit-flavored liquor and was wearing a flannel shirt that looked as if it had once been buried with Kurt Cobain.

Holmes had cornered a young college student and was, with slurred speech, describing a 24-esque adventure he needed help with. I approached the two and asked what I could do to help.

Holmes the Semi-Scary Homeless Dude looked at me and muttered something about how I looked like an Eskimo before he turned back to his prey.

Unperturbed by his faulty racial profiling, I repeated my question in a slightly more menacing manger tone.

Holmes the Semi-Scary Homeless Dude turned back to me – now staring intently at my throat. He walked right up to me, shoved his face right into my own and said that I needed to leave.

I let out a small nervous laugh and informed him that it was he who needed to leave. He was, I told him, scaring the customers (not to mention me) and he needed to go someplace else before I called the cops.

Holmes told me that if I called the cops, hundreds of federal agents would drop down from helicopters to arrest me for being brainwashed and for brainwashing others inside the store. I ignored Holmes’ charming display of paranoia and repeated my claim that I would not hesitate to call the police on him.

Beckoning Holmes’ young college student audience inside the store, I told the man he had less then a minute to find someplace else to thump his tub. Walking back into the store, I let out a relived sigh.

I had not been stabbed with a broken beer bottle and a quick glance outside the window showed that the man was now walking away. I was indeed awesome at my job.

I later learned that I should have just called the cops on him because there actually could have been a bomb or he could have been knife-crazy homeless instead of just cute-crazy homeless.

Lessons learned.

Fresh from my encounter with the homeless man, I went back to the front counter to grab the stack of videos I had originally come to the front of the store for.

Balancing the stack in the crook of my arm, I ventured out into the store to put the rentals back on the shelves. It was while passing through the children’s section of the movie department that I heard a voice call out.

“Hey, you want to buy some pussy?”

While I was certain of what I heard, I still had trouble believing it.

“Hey, brother, you want to buy some pussy?” the voice asked again, this time with more urgency.

I turned to look at the direction from whence the voice had come and saw a lone woman, staring intently at me.

Her face was a road map of scars and bruises, her mouth containing only a few more teeth them my friends Holmes had possessed.

She was dressed in a skin-tight jungle-print mini-skirt that for some reason reminded me of a childhood friend’s mother.

The woman, realizing she now had my attention, walked up to me, grabbed me by the arm and asked again: “Do you want to buy some pussy, honey?”

Impressed by her assertiveness but disgusted by the fact that she was actually touching me, I pulled away and politely declined. A look of anger flashed across her face.

“What’s wrong with all this?” she asked, motioning to her body. “Don’t you think I’m worth the money?”

“I’m sure you’re a very fine bargain, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline,” I told her, already turning back to my duties.

She was not so willing to take no for an answer though. As I walked away, she began following me.

“I know you want to buy some pussy, honey. And I know you can afford it. I’m only the price of a bucket of chicken.”

While impressed by her willingness to compare herself to a fast food value meal, I once again had to decline, this time hurrying off to assist a customer who looked like he needed help.

She eventually wondered off and I eventually finished putting the videos back on the shelf. When I walked back to the front counter to get a new stack of videos, though, I was greeted with an unexpected surprise.

“Some lady was complaining that you were trying to buy her body,” the cashier working the front register told me. “She said you were trying to solicit her.”

I quickly explained the situation, flustered by the thought of being reported for attempted prostitution soliciting. The register jockey nodded; a look of understanding in his eyes.

“I kind of knew something was wrong,” he said. “After she finished telling me about you, she told me that she had the flu and that I looked like a big, steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup.”

Ah, life in retail. It’s a blast.

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