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Once upon a time, there was a store. And in this store, sat hundreds upon hundreds of games, as far as the eyes could see (in a location no bigger than a master bathroom). This store was so rightly named – Gamestop — because this is where games go to die. This is hell: the one place no gamer ever wants to be, but is sometimes forced against their better judgment.

Today, well, was going to be different. I was going in with a smirk on my face and nothing less coming out.

I enter the doorway and do a quick scan of the room: two kids and their mother reaching high for Manhunt 2, a fresh-from-Hot-Topic juvenile at the 360 booth, and two blue-shirts behind the counter, discussing how drunk they are going to get after work. I had the right place.

Strolling up to the booth with my two month old copy of Halo 3, I meet eyes with the first of the blue-shirts. This was going to be a tough negotiation, but confidence comes from within. Plus I only had 20 bucks for Assassin’s Creed.

Gamestop Slave: “How can I help you today?”
Volkov: “I was just wondering if you’d like to pre-order my used copy of Halo 3?”
GS: “Excuse me?”
Volk: “Would you please pre-order my copy of Halo 3?”
GS: “Sir, Halo 3 came out 8 weeks ago. What are you talking about?”
Volk: “God you are making this hard. If you pre-order my used Halo 3, I’ll throw in a free subscription to Game Informer Magazine, the best way to stay up to date with the gaming megauniverse.”

As expected, he shot me the dirtiest look a community college boy could. Was I mocking him? Yes. Was I enjoying it? Hell yeah.

GS: “Are you saying you want to trade-in Halo 3?”
Volk: “Yeah, only I want you to put $5 down on it now, so then I can come back and give it to you three days from now for the rest.”
GS: “Hold on, sir, let me get the manager.”

He heads to the ultra-secret backroom and discusses something silently with the head honcho. This big, beautiful woman with a triple XL cornflower polo ascends from the gates, and comes to the register.

BBW: “Sir, we do not pre-order used copies from our customers. You are welcome to trade it in now for $35.”

This simply couldn’t do. I’d be $5 short of my goal. What to do, what to do?

Volk: “I don’t think we’re on the same page here, Jabba. This quest is solid. $40 or bust.”
BBW: “Gamestop does not negotiate prices, sir. Now if you don’t have any more business here, then I suggest you leave the store before my fat ass whoops you upside the head.”
Volk: “Oh just wait until my blog here’s about this. Why don’t you go file your resignation papers and eat a couple bear claws?”
BBW: “Leave NOW!”

This was getting hopeless; time for plan B. I quickly pointed to the clock beyond the register.

Volk: “What’s that behind you?!?”

She totally fell for it. As soon as her head turned sideways, I snatched Assassin’s Creed and ran straight out into the mall. With all alarms sounded, I got the hell out of there and made a beeline for home.

But alas, Gamestop won in the end. The game had already been borrowed by an employee, and the disc was either missing or invisible. I wasn’t confident in the latter.

That is the last time I raid Gamestop.

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