Whee!

I recently had occasion to pay my first visit to the videogame retailer GameStop, and I felt like I could have been in a Saturday Night Live skit, except this was funny.
First there's the teen-something kid in the green gym shorts with white piping, looking like he walked out of the '70s. These are the shorts with no pockets, and he had on a T-shirt, sneakers and tube socks reaching to the knees, not to mention the glasses. The only thing missing was the terrycloth headband. As if he weren't already the stereotypical geek, his mother called him on his cellphone while he was standing in line. But he did have a decent set of tits.
He was in back of my son and me in line, while his female counterpart (almost, except her tits weren't as big) was in front of us. She was borderline porcine and probably couldn't have been more nondescript, but perhaps I'm selling her short. She's talking to the clerk with the underdeveloped beard, and he's holding forth with the zeal of a '60s radical, but not about peace, man, about videogames. In particular, he's pontificating about the merits, or lack thereof, of a certain game and how he would never play it on a certain platform again. She sort of has the star-struck look in her eyes, and they're apparently discussing some kind of magazine that serves as a playbook for a particular game. I may have this wrong, but it looked like this playbook cost $24, on top of the roughly $50 price tag for the most popular games.
Anyway, what was particularly staggering was the apparent lack of technological proficiency when it came to ringing somebody up, because I could have composed this post longhand while standing in line. There were two other ostensible employees in this place, and they moved with the grace of a sloth, and not toward one of the other registers. And when someone did wait on me, they had to type in the gift-card number, since the swiping device wasn't working. Peace, man.