It is your fucking job to monitor the news for anything the might affect the site, like a couple thousand Tamils marching our way down University Ave. Just listen for any mention of them and call the boss with news. It is not fucking difficult you mouth-breathing, strategically shaved ape…

Are you so fucking inept and insecure you have to throw one of these hissy-fits every time you work? Every thirty fucking minutes? Can you not see Todd, Martina, me and the fucking cleaners roll our eyes when you start another one of your fucking diatribes about how management and their procedures are so stupid? We do not care… Not one fucking, eensy little fucking bit. At least seven other people can do your job with a minimum of complaints or screwing up the Send Word Now lists or dispatching system. In fact since Justin was demoted: You are the only “person” that gets this worked up and fucks it up all the time. All the fucking time!

That’s me pointing out you cannot do your fucking job. Yes it sucks; most jobs do. But yours is not difficult and certainly not the momumental clusterfuck you say it is. You are incapable of sitting at a computer and reading a series of three-ring binders with intricately laid-out, practical procedures right fucking there. You. Fucking. Suck.

You as a 911 dispatcher is a terrifying thought. I’m fucking certain your antics there will end up one of those news stories like the guy who fell asleep during a call.

Please just go home and play “What’s Under the Sink?” now.

Yes. NOW!

Out of nowhere the gaming world throws this little gem at me and in the middle of a financial lull I am trying to buy a new game. Me and Allister cannot pass up a co-op tactical naval combat game like this; but damned if the collective efforts of human stupidity did not try to stop me.

The Goal
Get a copy of Eidos Interactive’s Battlestations: Pacific.
Complication Observed
Price tag of $66.66 while budget currently allows for only about $100 of disposable income (which includes eating out with Warroom Jr.)
Solution
Take Mercenaries 2 (X-Box 360), Ace Combat 6, Battlefield: Bad Company, and Call of Duty: World at War (X-Box 360) and trade them in at Friendly Local Game Store (FLGS).
Execution
12 May, 1544 hrs: Shipping Day. While the big stores like Best Buy and Future Shop do not typically put games on the shelves until 2 days after shipping the little guys like EB Games and the FLGS put them up as soon as they arrive at about 1500 hrs. I call the EB just to see if it’s arrived and am told, “I think it’s an X-Box Live download because I can’t see it on my computer.” Remembering conversations with EB employees have caused cerebral edema as my brain tried to drown itself, I just hung up.

Next I called FLGS as they have a slightly more unreliable schedule but still better than the megastores. The cheerful buck on the other end happily ensures it will arrive within half an hour. I explain I will be there in a full hour, so he says he will hold one for me.

12 May, 1704 hrs: Me and Tyler arrive at FLGS, and the chap I usually deal with, let us call him Captain Funbody, says his rep was unable to ship it as he was worried it would be sold early. FLGS is renown for doing just so there was not much he could do. As I do not feel like carting the fours games back to my apartment, I trade them in for store credit then. Capt. Funbody is going to put one aside when they get in tomorrow morning and ring me up when it arrives. I proceed to my apartment with the credit note and play Fallout 3 for the night.

13 May, 1530 hrs: I call FLGS to confirm my copy is there and the cheerful fellow on the other end says no: The truck has not arrived but when it does he will have one aside for me. It should be there by the time I get uptown.

13 May, 1652 hrs: Capt. Funbody laments the game’s tardiness, but armed with my number assures me it will around soon enough and I will be called when it does. Traffic was stalled up all over the place because of the Tamil protests, so that seems likely.

13 May, 1912 hrs: Having turned a large collection of Raiders into piles of goo without being interrupted by a phone call I decide to take a walk and make FLGS one of my stops. The night shift guy is there noodling on a DSi and cannot find a copy of my game. Capt. Funbody emerges from the back visibly upset because my copy was there on the shelf waiting for me. After a brief search, he informs me he will have to order another that will arrive tomorrow at 1300 hrs. Frustrated, I return home and distract myself on Rock Band 2 until I am worn down enough to go to sleep.

14 May, 1657 hrs: Too busy over the day to call and check up on the FLGS, I foolishly assume after the runaround over the last 2 days they have to have it for me. Nope: The cheerful guy from before says they ran out yesterday and have not seen any since. Exasperated I pop upstairs to EB to see if they figured out their issues. The mouth-breather that thought it was an XBLA game only got three copies that did not have time to stay on the shelves. I can call him tomorrow to see if more arrive. Now I am no better than if I had waited for Future Shop and Best Buy to release it except I am a lot more angry. However, the Future Shop a short hop up the road from me does not have it.

14 May, 1738 hrs: The Best Buy website says the store at Leaside has it in. Being only a 15-minute bus ride away, I decide I want this fucking game for the long weekend and ready the Metropass. I phone them first, knowing the website has been wrong and not wanting to waste my time. The pleasant feminine voice on the other end says they have 6 copies begging to be purchased. I declare my imminent arrival and hop on the bus, fully aware I will paying full price since I only have store credit with FLGS. I will live on Mac & Cheese for a while.

14 May, 1805 hrs: I make plans with Allister to grab a burger to celebrate the end of this insanity as I enter the Best Buy. Instead of game boxes, they have cards you bring the cashier so they can retrieve the precious materials from the protective cage. Of course, it is not in the protective cage: It is in the warehouse. The manager heads back to get it.

14 May, 1827 hrs: Having stood at the cashier long enough to get to know her, I notice the manager from before chatting with a salesboy in the rows of televisions. I approach and ask her where the game is, and she shrugs and informs me it is not back there. This is about when the little riot cops in my head lowered their shields and said, “Fuck it, Mike. Be That Guy.”
“Did you not not think to come to the cashier and tell me it is, in fact, not in stock?”
“Uhm… Sorry.”
“So I phone to double-check you have it and you waste my time by telling me to come get it. Then you just leave me standing with the cashier when you can’t find it, and waste my time even further because you’re too scared to tell me?”
“There must have been a problem with the inventory comp-”
“Ma’am, I no longer care about why your computer says you have it in when you don’t. I chalk that up to the rather low bar set on your hiring standards. My present concern is that your chosen approach to delivering bad news to a customer is to hide.”
“Uhm… … … Sorry.”
“We’ve covered this. I feel my brain-pan filling with water again.”
I was speaking conversationally the whole time like I was chatting about the weather. I did not become a screaming That Guy. Only an obstinate one asking real questions knowing full well he is talking to a drone that will merely try and deflect the responsibility for the mess. I find they get really confused by the courteous upset customer who does not insult them enough (I am sure the “low bar” comment flew right over her head. See, Erik? I can be subtle. Kind of.) or scream enough to warrant being escorted out by security. When you stay civil but ask difficult questions you get them squirming in confusion in a way that is far more satifying than the look on their face when you launch in to a screaming tirade. Besides, I will be damned if I am going to lose it over a game.

I head around the corner to the neaby Future Shop, grab a flier on the way in, and approach the games shelves. When the unwitting salesman ask if I am looking for anything asks if I need help, I ask for Battlestations: Pacific. When he says it is not out yet I hold up the flier and ask him to note the release date. He says those are not necessarily accurate. I get halfway through asking how, if the shipping date is two days ago, can it take so long to get them on shelves when I get a sloshing feeling in my head. I stop and just head to Allister’s so we can get food. The confused employee is left standing by the gaming shelves holding a crumpled flier starting to wonder where I went, but gets distracted by something shiny.

14 May, 2008 hrs: Checking my messages after dinner it seems Capt. Funbody got a hold of a few copies and is guarding one personally for me. The pleading message is rife with apologies and I think I hear a salesman trying to ask for help while choking on his own blood in the background. I pop by, pick it up, get home and meet with Allister online to start sinking ships.

Status
Acquired about 48 hours late, but a success. The game is great, and I still have yet to play the single-player campaigns. I cannot help but wonder what cosmic energies mixed to create such a confluence of DURRR!!. The chief source of frustration the whole way through was the only apology I got was the fake one from the Best Buy manager used to try and avoid admitting she lacked the balls to tell me they made a mistake and did not have my game in. Capt. Funbody kept blaming other people and making assurances he was nto sure of. The guy of EB Games blamed his computer and suppliers. The Best Buy manager was a fuck-up head to toe that gets all of her customer service skills from a three-ring binder. The Future Shop guy was some douchebag who could not give a rat’s ass over the commission on a $60 game.

In the end every store I go to for games dropped a full register on my confidence-o-meter. So the only loser here is me.