I Hate Fridays

I HATE FRIDAYS
By TesubCalle

It’s a tough life being a ticket seller at a movie theater. Really. Oh, the job itself is pretty mindless, that’s for sure, but what makes this job difficult is the people that buy the tickets.


Ten screens means ten or more films playing at any one time, with a least two to four showings each day for each film. A scheduling nightmare, if ever I heard of one. Most days, this isn’t a huge problem. People are sane and reasonable and polite Sunday through Thursday.


But something very strange happens on Friday. The movie-going public is suddenly stricken with illiteracy, impatience and insanity.


But I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself and skipped introductions. Hi. My name’s Serena Arnott. My nametag says ‘SERENA’, and below it is the title of my guilty pleasures “favourite” movie, Supergirl. I think it looks kinda cute, reading it straight: “SERENA SUPERGIRL”. People comment on it all the time.


I should explain something before we go any further with my story, otherwise some of you might be confused. Almost every week, some big-budget blockbuster is released by some big-time movie company. Warner Brothers; MGM; Paramount; 20th Century Fox…you name it. 98% of the time, they pick a Friday to shove that movie into your faces at the nearest multiplex. And like the entertainment-hungry, short-attention-span suburban capitalistic consumers that you are, you’ll want to head out and see that movie. Yes, a Friday. Logically, if a new movie is released on Friday, a certain amount of schedule juggling must be done in order to accommodate said movie. Logically, that change shows up in the movie listings in the newspaper. On Friday, an older, less patronized movie might get dumped completely and get shipped off to the cheap-o, second-run movie theaters. Once that movie gets taken off the schedule, we don’t have it anymore, and we can’t show it anymore. Makes sense to me.


That’s all for background, so you know the kinds of things I have to deal with. Up next is a story you won’t believe, but is absolutely true.


She wanted to see ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’. Hilarious movie. This woman, I’d say, late 30s, brunette, five feet, four inches, with a condescending sneer permanently pasted on her pasty face, greeted me with the words: “One, please.”


Looking back now, I’m surprised she even said “please”.


Feigning ignorance and mustering up as much of a courteous tone as I could, I said sweetly, “One what?”


“Excuse me?” she shot back, as if to imply I hadn’t the right to talk to her or question her.


So I elaborated. “What would you like to see?”


“Big Fat Greek Whatever,” she said dismissively, not even bothering to look at me while she sniffed the air with a distinct expression of discontent. Yeah, the concession kids were at it again, burning the popcorn, and an acrid smell permeated the place.


“My Big Fat Greek Wedding?” I repeated.


This time she glared at me. “Ye-eah,” she said, rolling her eyes, “didn’t you hear me the first time?”


I sighed inwardly. While My Big Fat Greek Wedding had been extremely popular, it had run its course and had been given the ol’ farewell by the geniuses at Head Office. Replaced by some other pathetic movie, probably something like Jason X, or worse. “Big Fat Greek Whatever” was no longer listed on my screen. Tickets were no longer available.


Try explaining that concept to the irate woman before me.


“What?!” she screeched.


I nodded my head apologetically. “I’m sorry. We no longer have that film playing here.”


“But the newspaper said it’s here,” she countered, raising her voice.


I sighed inwardly again. This very scenario has played itself out hundreds of times in the past with other unhappy customers wanting to see other discontinued movies. That’s why I hate Fridays.


“Today’s newspaper?” I asked innocently, knowing full well today’s paper would not have mentioned “Big Fat Greek Whatever”.


“No, yesterday’s paper!”


“Well,” I said calmly, “today is Friday –“


“Yeah, I know it’s Friday!” she spat.


“And-” I started to say.


“And you know what? I want to see a manager. This is ridiculous. I came all this way to see this movie, and you tell me it’s not showing. I want to see a manager! Now!”


I sighed again. Aloud this time.


“Well?” she said, looking intently at the phone, which I had not picked up. “Didn’t you hear me? I demand to see a manager! Get one down here now!”


I thought carefully for a moment. And something snapped inside me. This woman had done it. This was the last time I would have a customer scream at me when they were the ones misreading the movie listings. This was the last time they would take out their own stupidity on me.


“Are you deaf, or are you just lazy and stupid?!” she screamed, jabbing an angry finger at me. She pounded the counter with her fist.


Instead of picking up the phone, I popped open the cash register. I lifted out the removable tray, with at least $100 worth in the float alone in there, and plopped it on the counter in front of her.


“What the hell are you doing?!” she shouted.


“See that video camera?” I motioned with my head to a spot to my upper right. “It’s been recording everything except sound. I think everyone will agree with my interpretation that your actions appeared to be abusive, threatening and dangerous. I think they’ll agree that you came in here to rob me.”


“Are you insane?!” she shrieked.


“I wasn’t. Not until you came in. But you pushed me over the edge. You had to read yesterday’s paper, didn’t you? Yesterday was Thursday. Today is Friday. What makes you think yesterday’s listings are good for today?”


“Now you listen to me-”


“You’d better run, now, because when I pick up the phone, I’m going to be dialling 911. And I’m going to tell them all about your robbery attempt.”


She narrowed her eyes, not knowing what to believe. She began to back up, slowly.


“You are crazy, aren’t you? Just you wait. I’m going to report you to your managers; to Head Office; to everyone in this business. You won’t work here ever again.”


I watched her stalk off, never to be seen again.


The rest of my day continued without a hitch, but the woman was true to her word. She did indeed report me. I don’t sell tickets anymore.


I mentioned that I hated Fridays. But I hate Secret Shoppers even more.

END