The GHZ Forum

The manager invited me behind the counter. It was a strange feeling, like holding a steering wheel for the first time. There were shelves overflowing with homeless wires and third-party peripherals, stacks of games and DVDs waiting to be filed, an ancient cash register, a giant calculator, a small TV for testing consoles, handwritten notes taped to everything.

There was also a hammer.

“I’ve never had cause to use it,” said the manager, “but you might see fit to wave it about a bit from time to time.”

Instead I wrote out of a strange loyalty to the horrible shop that had employed me for two years — it was a mess, but it was my mess — and an unfailing urge to correct the trivial mistakes of others, a habit I cultivate as it makes me attractive to women.

We organised games by platform - Xbox, PlayStation, GameCube and so on - but that was [as] far as it went.

When they asked us to contact us[them?] if the thing came in, I patiently took their number, then binned it.