Blockbusted

Why should I care if Blockbuster declares bankruptcy? It was that retail behemoth that landed in the center of town one day and video rental was never the same. I went undercover with my best friend and co-manager to check out our competition: High-contrast paint job and even brighter overhead lighting. The staff was snappily dressed in matching polo shirts and obsequious attitudes. "Can I help you find something?" they pressed.
"Do you have 'Picnic At Hanging Rock?'" I asked without a trace of the setup I was giving them. Peter Weir's creepy classic was as scarce as hydra's teeth, and I knew it. It was one of the titles that I was constantly on the lookout for at our shop down the street. The happy droid scurried off to his terminal to check his database, but I already knew the answer.
"Gosh, I don't see it even listed here," came the sad reply from behind the counter.
"How about 'Faces of Death?'" There was no subtlety in my friend's query. He was out for blood. He knew this collection of snuff was one of the "extreme" titles available at this proudly family friendly establishment while plenty of more mainstream films, the ones that featured procreation rather than execution, were not allowed inside Blockbuster's shiny happy facade.
Smug as our little interaction made us, there was no denying the acres of new releases that covered one wall of that great big box of a store.
It was obvious that the demand we were able to create at our shop for the newest titles would disappear abruptly in this environment. Our customers were routinely disappointed to find out that the copy of "Top Gun" they had reserved for Friday night hadn't returned from its slumber party the night before. We saw their disappointment and seized the opportunity. "So, you're looking for a little Tom Cruise to spice up your evening? Why not check out 'Endless Love' and see his film debut?" Curious and ever-trusting, most of our loyal customers would take our bait, and return the next day with a shrug and a grin, thankful for the absurd detour from the norm. It's what we did back in those days. We took pride in the breadth of our catalog and our ability to steer people to movies they might otherwise have missed. My friend and I carried on for hours this way every week, and every so often when someone insisted that they needed something "new that's good that I haven't seen," we would sigh and write their name down in the reservation book for that weeks hottest new release. Whether it was good or not.
It wasn't long before the Blockbuster way became the way. We closed our store and went to seek our fortunes elsewhere. Now we're on opposite sides of the country, and every so often when life gets sad or lonely, we kid ourselves about getting back together and opening our own video store once again. Those were our salad days. Before DVRs and Netflix. Before you could watch movies on your phone. Before Blockbuster.
Do I feel a pang of sadness that the video rental business itself has all but disappeared as well? Not really, since I know that once there was a spot, not unlike Camelot, where college pukes such as my buddy and I could offer money-back guarantees on films like "Birdy" and "Videodrome" without flinching. We knew our customers would be back, even if was just to take another chance on our staff's obscure recommendations.
In the meantime, the store that my buddy and I always secretly wished we worked for, The Video Station, continues to rent movies and talk to people about them. Not just what's new that's good that's in. Blockbuster is dead. Long live the new flesh.