Ol' Jim B.

The first time I realized I was face to face with a Bob happened when I was 19 and working in a video store. It was a family-owned video store, based in the Midwest and spanning seven states and 300-some stores. I remember when I got the job there I was pumped (even though I had to shave my fledgling goatee as it was too "intimidating"). I was pumped because it was a regular paycheck after several months of being unemployed and it would get my dad off my ass.

I have to say as far as shitty college jobs go, video store is a pretty damn good one. Yeah you give up a lot of your weekends, but you can sleep all day when you're not working a day shift and the bizarre cast of weirdos who would venture in mixed with the few local hotties and cool regulars made it worthwhile. Plus for most of my time there I was the only male employee in a store full of women. Some of them were hot. Some of them were not. Most of the people there were pretty cool though and I still have three excellent friends from that place.

Anyway, one thing I noticed almost immediately was that everyone above the rank of "clerk" in this company was absolutely guzzling the Kool-Aid. I mean these people were nigh-fanatical in their dedication to, what seemed like to me, a low-rent Blockbuster knock-off. During my interview (and the first two months of my tenure) I was bombarded with hints at more responsibility and a slight raise. They eventually trusted me with a key to the store and started wafting "Management" in front of my face, as if I would drop out of college to run a fucking video store. Turns out I would drop out for much less, but whatever.

Jim B was our new District Manager, and he was the typical megalomaniacal mid-level manager. He had read "What Color is Your Parachute?" or "Who Moved My Cheese?" or whatever the bullshit empty company-speak manual of the day was and figured that's all he needed to survive. Unlike me, Jim had seen the golden glow of management as a tantalizing lure, and had dropped out of Veterinarian School to accomplish it. So at one point, young Jim had really wanted to help animals and make a difference. He had probably had a dearly-loved pet or loved watching Animal Planet or something to nurture this affinity for the wild kingdom. Then college-aged Jim must've decided that animals were not worth all the bullshit studying when he could be getting wasted every night at 2 am after closing a video store, so he bolted.

He loved his job, and he loved the fact that some of the more impressionable kids at his stores looked up to him as if he knew what was going on in life. He would often take me outside the store while he was visiting and deliver some bizarre motivational speech. When we worked together he would take all the closers to the bar near his house so he could school us in pool (he had his own cue!) and buy us a round of drinks to make everyone feel special.

Once after dragging me to one of these bar nights he invited me back to his place, "Just to chill man. No work bullshit. Just two guys hangin' out. Cool?" My spider-sense was humming pretty strongly but I went along with it.

His girlfriend locked us out. There we were, both drunk, with Jim arguing through the door with his girlfriend to let him in. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was doing this every night, or the fact that he had a contest with another District Manager to see who could fuck the most female store employees, but I doubt the girlfriend knew anything about that wager. She was pissed and not having us.

"Please, do not embarrass me like this in front of an employee," he muttered to the front door. Even in his moment of shame I was just an employee. Sure he'd call me "bro" and "pal" and "bud," but when push came to shove I was still just a peon.

I told Jim I had to run anyway and wished him good luck in gaining entrance to his house. I stumbled to my car and drove it around the block very slowly so as to avoid hitting anything, parked in front of a house, and slept it off. It wouldn't be my last encounter with bizarre Jim B, but it put me on notice that the guy was a fuckin' creep show and I'd have to watch out for him.