Be Kind, Rewind

“The salesman knows nothing of what he is selling save that he is charging a great deal too much for it.” -Oscar Wilde

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“Come on folks, come on over!”

There are many intriguing sights on the waterfront.  In the early morning the construction workers begin their work.  The paper delivery man fills up the metal stands with the latest news.  The back of his van gathers more and more yesterdays, now much less exciting and imperative than they had been just twenty-four hours ago.

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The second set of ferries makes their way to the pier.  Not the first ferries; those early transporters of cars and commuters are the fanatics.  They get up a little too early.  The boats after those, they are the early rising (but not too early) workers that get things ready for the rest of the world.

“It’s never too early for a good bargain!  Why be just any ol’ early bird who gets the worm when you could be the wise and savvy early bird who nabs a salmon?  Why be a boring sparrow when you can be a fearsome eagle, swooping down on only the best?  Yes, my deals are like nothing else out there!”

The water is remains calm, but also dark.  The streets shine their lights, still on a low setting so as not to waken the neighbors.  The beacons, the LEDs atop stadiums and the worker lights can all be seen across the lake.  The artificial lamps add a pleasant orange glow that tides the citizens over until the sun deigns to officially approve of the new day with its presence.  The world will wake up soon, but the bustle and drive has not quite kicked in to full speed yet.

“You say you don’t wanna be taken?  Well I’m the one who should be weeping, what with the low low, bargain-basement prices I’m offering today only!”

No one has yet informed Pete Fanstro of any of this.  In his mind, four a.m. is the perfect time to make that first big sale of the day.  Pete strives for that sale that will make his ledger happy and fill the pages with black pen instead of the dreaded red.   That is, if Pete were to keep a ledger.  He finds such matters as accounting and budgeting to be trifling, stifling, and something best worried about by—”

“Fools!  Fools, I say!  Only a fool would pass up these amazing deals!  The big chains won’t offer ya these kinds of sales!  You can’t go surf for these massive discounts online.  And why would you want to?”

Pete likes to imagine himself an entrepreneur.  He has dreams, or “schemes” as his ex-wife would call them; that he knows for certain are guaranteed hits.  Regrettably, the rest of the world is not in synch with how Pete thinks.  He believes that true happiness has already been offered up to the public and they have rushed past it.  Pete sees himself as an antique dealer, but one with a very specific market.

“VHS tapes!  As great today as they ever were!  Now on sale for your own personal enjoyment!  Relive the childhood days!  Bask in the warm glow of a screen that fast forwards and reverses before your very eyes!  No silly ‘scene selection’ or ‘menus’ to worry with!  No internet connection required!”

Pete spent several years trying to collect enough tapes to fill his temporary structure.  To call it a building would be charitable.  The structure is as questionable as the ripped and splotchy cardboard sleeves that adorn some, but hardly the majority, of the hundreds of video tapes.  The walls are made of a metal that resembles tin or steel, however the rust muddies up any attempt to categorize the mystery material.  The garage door entrance that rolls up and down rattles only slightly more than the walls in a rainstorm.  However the brown/gray/green building leaks enough to keep any outdoorsman content.

“High quality goods here!  Some folks would try to sell you SLP tapes at a SP price!  No sir!  I could try to sell you Titanic on one cassette, but I offer you the original two-tape set!  No shortcuts were made to the standards in our establishment!”

The “goods”, have made themselves right at home.  Embracing the waterfront setting, the VHS tapes have taken to the moisture as much as possible.  They enjoy their showers in the rain.  When the tables are bumped just right, the kids’ videos are only too happy to dive into the puddles that have accumulated on the concrete ground and bathe themselves in the grime-infested waters.  Mold makes friends with the cardboard; the two have quite the loyal relationship, never being found far apart.  Batman logos have been faded gray, Superman logos have shifted to white and pink, and Die Hard’s battered container looks the part.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.  We need a little excitement this morning!  So, for the next five minutes, and only the next five, if you come up to ol’ Pete and you buy ten VHS tapes?  I’m going to offer you a dual-deck VHS player for the bargain price of ten dollars.  That’s right, only ten dollars!  These marvels of electronics used to sell for hundreds.  Now one can be yours!  Take the tapes and record back and forth.  How you say?  Well, since we want your day to start off right, I’m going to throw in this blank 120 tape, mint in package.  For you sir, free!  Yes, you put the blank in the record deck, you put the movie in the other, and you can make your own edits!”

Mr. Fanstro tends to skirt the laws and regulations.  He does not pay rent on his space outside the abandoned building.  He knows that one day he will have to move.  For the moment, landlords seem more occupied turning pristine lots into apartment buildings than worrying about empty warehouses show no promise.  Police and federal officials could crack down on Pete for not paying taxes or for encouraging patrons to violate the wavy warnings that show in black and white before each movie.  Yet, the sad truth is that patrons and profits are so unfamiliar to Pete’s stand that it is not worth anyone’s time to enforce any rules.  His is a failed business by most standards.

“I know you’ve got different standards than most!  You want a movie with all the boring parts taken out!  Well you just record and pause, record and pause… and whammo!  Your very own personal edit!  Break the little tab off the corner and it will be yours to treasure forever.  What’s that?  Change your mind?  Why, one little piece of tape over that hole and you can record again!  Make a different tape over and over forever!  Live with one tape for all of eternity and never settle for the studios cut!  The choice is yours!”

Pete is no threat to anyone.  He resembles Saturn in many ways.  He is an oddity, has a large presence in his universe, and consists of the most curious rings.  His head is almost bald, but a small friar-like ring of hair clings on in defiance.  A series of almost-circles covers his head, made up of impossibly bushy eyebrows that often court a uni-brow label, a small patch at the back of his head, and a mustache that is full and comical.

Further down he has a triple chin which has slid down his neck and hangs there like a hula hoop, wobbling and swooshing around, but never going away.  His arms are constantly in motion and the way he gesticulates and spins from prospective customer to the tables behind him creates the image of a cyclone of sales spinning faster and faster.

There, in his middle, is quite possibly the biggest spare tire a man has ever had.  Pete has lost quite a few pounds over the ages and his torso shows that.  But this sizeable perimeter of mass has refused to give up the ghost.  It juts out, creating something of a shelf for Pete’s elbows to rest on in those rare moments when his arms are not flailing about.

And then there are his knees.  Rain or shine, cold or warm, Pete insists on wearing shorts.  “Only a stuck-up salesman wears slacks”, he has often said.  “Wearing shorts gives me freedom of movement and makes the people know I’m one of them.  That’s crucial!”

Yet his knees are quite peculiar.  They are quite knobby, but his skin is rather loose.  So it appears that two poorly handled mangos have taken up residence in the middle of each leg.  The pair protrudes like their own little moons, maintaining a lopsided orbit in the solar system that is Pete’s physique.

“Sights like you won’t see again!  Lost World-Jurassic Park, still with the lenticular card that came with it!  Both Schumacher Batman films; complete with their ensemble covers!   And wait’ll you see the deal I offer you on our Jim Carrey collection!  It’s only surpassed by our Adam Sandler exclusive collector’s set!  You won’t find these steals elsewhere, because I’ve got ‘em right here!”

A large percentage of passersby feel sorry for Pete.  They wonder how he can possibly feed his family.  Nearby vendors, those patient or stubborn enough to tolerate his constant huckster calls; have never seen him with enough money to make a deposit.  They do not realize that none of this is for money, it is all for fun.

“Remember fun?  Goonies?  Back to the Future?  Aladdin?  Well, we got yer fun right here!  Don’t be a fool, be a memory-maker!  Share these bits of perfection with the whole family and still have some money for popcorn!”

Anyone who has ever bought a cup of soda has ensured Pete’s livelihood.  There is a plastic lid for most cups.  And those lids have a small x-shaped hole in the top for the straw to go through.  Pete invented that x-shaped slit.  Every lid made, through the wonders of patents, has helped Pete’s bank account.  One would never suspect that the curious person in front of them, sagging in odd places and wearing too-short shorts, is the richest man they’ll ever come across.  But Pete has better things to talk about than money.

“VHS stands for ‘Very Highest Standards’!  Come, embrace the joy of it!  Cherish the memories!  You’ll never come across a store quite like mine ever again!”

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