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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The Tale of the Vegan Ice Cream

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I was eating yogurt today and had one of my PTSD flashbacks. It’s 2012 and I’m at the dementor…I mean the theatre ——–

“I’m a lawyer, but I also studied medicine.” I was standing in my manager’s get-up listening to this ridiculous rant about our outside food policy by an obnoxious, loud bitch.

I told her she couldn’t come into the theatre with Cold Stone ice cream– a decision that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In her dramatic Jersey accent, she explained (ranted) that in Jersey it was illegal to deny food and she didn’t know how we ran things in the “empire state” but she wasn’t going to stand for it.

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of 1 of our 10 signs that say, NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINK PERMITTED. “This is evidence for the class action lawsuit  I’m going to file and you (she looks at my name tag), Mrs. Welch — MS., I correct her — You Ms. Welch, will be the name on the suit.”

Contrary to popular belief, I really don’t give a damn if you bring outside food in. I advise people to hide stuff in their pockets and bags all the time. But when you walk through the lobby in front of all six cameras with a huge monstrosity of an ice cream, with fireworks and a ferris wheel coming out the top, and 500 other customers who can’t bring in outside food are looking…I have to stop you.

But this self proclaimed “vegan” (I found out later vegans can’t have milk…one key ingredient in ice cream?…Milk) needs to tell her whole story and oh so educated opinion. She refuses to feed her child “genetically engineered” food…did you know they put food coloring on apples? And because of this healthy diet of ice cream and other vegan foods, her son will never be obese. He’s mentally ahead of the curve…this she says as the kid falls flat on his face, gets up, and starts humping her leg.

I wanted to just tell her I’ll make an exception, she could just go in. I no longer cared about my job or life for that matter. But she never. Took. A. Breath. She never stopped yapping for even two seconds.

Finally my General Manager walked over. We had to avoid eye contact with each other to avoid bursting out in laughter as she ranted that cancer was a man-made disease. Did I mention she’s a doctor AND a lawyer?

She’s just looking out for her son’s well being. This said while her kid wandered back into the packed lobby unattended. A very, VERY large man walked over to little Timmy and picked him up. “Ma’am, your son…” “Oh that’s fine, that’s his father.” Oh…clearly vegan is working for him.

After 20 minutes of listening to this doctor/lawyer Jersey resident, finally she let us talk. “Ma’am it’s our policy but we can make an exception this time and let you in.”

All of a sudden her righteous civic responsibility to right this horrible wrong we’ve been committing went out the window. No more lawyer/doctor talk. The biddy got what she want. So her mouth went quiet.

Only upside? Her ice cream was melted and her movie had started 10 minutes ago. Bye-Bye Ms. Jersey doctor-lawyer. Enjoy your movie. Don’t choke on your (not)vegan ice cream.

I suppose it’s a better ending than the grown 40-something year old woman who was so upset about the policy that she threw the ice cream onto our carpet in the middle of a packed lobby…but that story’s for another day.