Don’t Feed the Animals

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I used to really love kids and I miss that. During the “dark days” at the movie theatre, I learned to hate them. But how could you blame me?

There was your regular run of the mill nonsense that went on. A mother entertaining a child’s tantrum at the concession counter because he wanted sour patch kids and she didn’t want to buy it. Instead of having any kind of control at all over her demon, she would sit there, letting him scream bloody murder for what seemed like hours, holding up the 15 customers in line behind them.

The kicker to the whole story is after letting the kid demonstrate to the whole lobby what a generation without discipline has spawned…she would ALWAYS give in and buy the candy. The kid would immediately cease his wailing and go on his way. Remembering the key to getting anything he wants is by screaming and flailing like an animal in the middle of a public place.

Then there were the parents who let the clumsy 2-year old with a head too big for his body carry the 54 oz. cup of blue raspberry icee. #SpoilerAlert the kid dropped it…he always dropped it…and more often than not after dropping and spilling it everywhere, he would slip and bang his big head on the tile floor. And of course it’d be our fault for having drinks that were too big. It was always our fault.

Ugh but cleaning the theatre of any kids movie was what really deterred me from children. No matter how few tickets we sold, these little feckers always managed to make it look like a zombie apocalypse had just taken place…and us employees were always on the losing side of that battle.

You would ask yourself, “how could 4 little runts spill crap under Every. Single. Seat. In Every. Single. Aisle.” But those questions would soon cease to exist after a few months in hell…I mean the theatre.

It’s because their useless parents never taught them sticking their slobber-filled, half-eaten lollipop on the seat wasn’t acceptable movie theatre decorum. OOh how I longed to scoop up every last kernel from the floor and serve it to the next batch of demons. They would end up getting more on the floor than in the holes in their faces anyways…so how sick could they really get?

I never mentioned that idea to the health inspector…probably for the best.

But what really grinded my gears was when parents lost their kids. That always sucked. And while we were running around like madmen searching for their missing children, they’d be chasing after us yelling things like “you should have better security protocols in place; It’s your fault for having a crowded theatre; why don’t you have enough employees to stand guard at every single door!” Or my personal favorite, “If my child is kidnapped, I’m holding YOU personally responsible!”

#LOL These bitches lose THEIR kids…and while they’re yelling about how it’s not THEIR fault that THEY lost THEIR kid, they want to hold ME “personally responsible” and they tell me this while I’m searching for their kid; obviously caring more about finding the child than them.

So I guess it’s parents I really have a gripe with. Kids aren’t so bad. I’m cured!

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