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Today we had about 36 people come into the theatre. That's one and a half people per movie. That's only one person every 8 minutes. But, of course, people don't come alone to the movies. So we'll say a pair every fifteen minutes. Then there's the fact that a lot of movies don't sell tickets at all during the day. And they all start in sets, so a movie will start every five or ten minutes. That leaves some pretty large gaping holes with nothing to do. So... I ended up filling receipt tapes with notes to myself with the intention of copying them down in here later. And that's exactly what I'm going to do now. Hehe.
So, when the theatre's slow sometimes it's not so bad. You get to know the people that come in, sort of. At least, as much as you can while trying to convince them to buy more popcorn and soda than they need (I say soda not because I've sold out, but because "popcorn and pop" is too repetative and I've learned from experience that it's hard to tell the difference when they're spoken in a hurry. People are always in a hurry. So at the theatre, it's soda. Plus it's from a fountain, not a bottle. Bottled stuff's always pop). Anyway, my point was that it's easier to be friendly. I had one small family make fun of me for actually downselling since I warned them how huge the large drinks were. And I could continue to joke with them about it, since there was no one behind them. Or even in the lobby at the time. There was a long break in people, then an older couple came in to see March of the Penguins (that movie still gets people. We've had it all summer!). They were very brief with me when I took their tickets, then, on their way out o the lobby the man turned around and asked if they layout used to be different. I said yes, about five years or so ago the concession was in the middle of the lobby. He mentioned that his son used to work here, though he was sure that I wouldn't know him. He made it as far as his theatre and came back to go to the restroom. For some reason he stopped and told me all about how his son now was managing an arthouse theatre in Dayton. While I found this cool, I wonder how many random theatre concessionists actually wouldn't be vaguely creeped out or something (we're a fragile breed made up mostly of teenaged girls, after all). And I wonder what it is that would compel someone to tell an entirely random person things about their liefe when they could just as easily escape into the bathroom like they intended and then go watch their movie. Do you think people find it strange that I smile and nod at them when they're coming up the hall to leave, or that I'll randomly wish them a nice day?
I'm also afraid I'm going to creepy out this new guy. He's old! Maybe he's a projectionist. But he's got a cane, and he walks slowly, and I keep watching him go by. It'd be so weird if he was floorstaff...
Turns out he is floorstaff! Box, since everything else involves running around. Weird, weird, weird. He's like, 35 or something. And balding. We have old projectionists, but they're their own entity. They don't count. Wow. Weird. I hope he can deal with all the managers here being like, ten years younger than him. Including our General Manager (actually, I imagine she's just barely into her thirties. He's definitely got a few years on her, though). Yeesh!
Ah! So it turns out our new 35-year old box office dude is an all right guy. He's actually sort of nervous about working here or something. It's sort of funny, hearing him ask all these questions, but not in my usual cynical definition. He already endeared himself to me by being a former military guy with two daughters who wants to make movies. How's that for a combination? He's got the can because he has metal rods in his spine, and he was telling me now nice his physical therapy was. How unusual is that? I still don't know what he wants to do with movies, and now I'm curious. I didn't admit to him that I want to write... I gues if the occasion comes up, I'll mention it. I actually want to go talk to him more. But I'm always curious about pepole anymore. I don't know what it is. Maybe my characterization kick (which is firmly attached to my plot fetish in ways I can't even sort out).
About this time the managers started to wander the lobby, and I think one of them walked by and told me I was boring, so I found lots of random little things to clean and do to pass the time. I guess it's not very fun to watch someone standing at the counter writing on receipt tape on their little cameras. Maybe I should dance for them or something. Hehe. And, finally, around a quarter til five one of the managers came to take my drawer, and she said something to me that I swear sounded entirely Spanish. So I responded with a very confused "Whaaa?" only to find out that she'd said "I'm just going to Z your drawer and then you can go home, kay?" I mean, even the emphasis on certain words sounded Spanish! This is what you get when you don't slow down the way you speak and people aren't expecting phrases like "Z your drawer" in normal speech while they're dusting soda fountains, kay? Eep. Oh, and I forgot once again to pick up my paycheck. Must remember tomorrow or something, or else I'm in trouble.
So, when the theatre's slow sometimes it's not so bad. You get to know the people that come in, sort of. At least, as much as you can while trying to convince them to buy more popcorn and soda than they need (I say soda not because I've sold out, but because "popcorn and pop" is too repetative and I've learned from experience that it's hard to tell the difference when they're spoken in a hurry. People are always in a hurry. So at the theatre, it's soda. Plus it's from a fountain, not a bottle. Bottled stuff's always pop). Anyway, my point was that it's easier to be friendly. I had one small family make fun of me for actually downselling since I warned them how huge the large drinks were. And I could continue to joke with them about it, since there was no one behind them. Or even in the lobby at the time. There was a long break in people, then an older couple came in to see March of the Penguins (that movie still gets people. We've had it all summer!). They were very brief with me when I took their tickets, then, on their way out o the lobby the man turned around and asked if they layout used to be different. I said yes, about five years or so ago the concession was in the middle of the lobby. He mentioned that his son used to work here, though he was sure that I wouldn't know him. He made it as far as his theatre and came back to go to the restroom. For some reason he stopped and told me all about how his son now was managing an arthouse theatre in Dayton. While I found this cool, I wonder how many random theatre concessionists actually wouldn't be vaguely creeped out or something (we're a fragile breed made up mostly of teenaged girls, after all). And I wonder what it is that would compel someone to tell an entirely random person things about their liefe when they could just as easily escape into the bathroom like they intended and then go watch their movie. Do you think people find it strange that I smile and nod at them when they're coming up the hall to leave, or that I'll randomly wish them a nice day?
I'm also afraid I'm going to creepy out this new guy. He's old! Maybe he's a projectionist. But he's got a cane, and he walks slowly, and I keep watching him go by. It'd be so weird if he was floorstaff...
Turns out he is floorstaff! Box, since everything else involves running around. Weird, weird, weird. He's like, 35 or something. And balding. We have old projectionists, but they're their own entity. They don't count. Wow. Weird. I hope he can deal with all the managers here being like, ten years younger than him. Including our General Manager (actually, I imagine she's just barely into her thirties. He's definitely got a few years on her, though). Yeesh!
Ah! So it turns out our new 35-year old box office dude is an all right guy. He's actually sort of nervous about working here or something. It's sort of funny, hearing him ask all these questions, but not in my usual cynical definition. He already endeared himself to me by being a former military guy with two daughters who wants to make movies. How's that for a combination? He's got the can because he has metal rods in his spine, and he was telling me now nice his physical therapy was. How unusual is that? I still don't know what he wants to do with movies, and now I'm curious. I didn't admit to him that I want to write... I gues if the occasion comes up, I'll mention it. I actually want to go talk to him more. But I'm always curious about pepole anymore. I don't know what it is. Maybe my characterization kick (which is firmly attached to my plot fetish in ways I can't even sort out).
About this time the managers started to wander the lobby, and I think one of them walked by and told me I was boring, so I found lots of random little things to clean and do to pass the time. I guess it's not very fun to watch someone standing at the counter writing on receipt tape on their little cameras. Maybe I should dance for them or something. Hehe. And, finally, around a quarter til five one of the managers came to take my drawer, and she said something to me that I swear sounded entirely Spanish. So I responded with a very confused "Whaaa?" only to find out that she'd said "I'm just going to Z your drawer and then you can go home, kay?" I mean, even the emphasis on certain words sounded Spanish! This is what you get when you don't slow down the way you speak and people aren't expecting phrases like "Z your drawer" in normal speech while they're dusting soda fountains, kay? Eep. Oh, and I forgot once again to pick up my paycheck. Must remember tomorrow or something, or else I'm in trouble.
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From:
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Oh and I find it so awesome that the new box office guy said PT was nice!!! We need more people like him in the world and then maybe I wouldn't be so opposed to working with older people. Not that 35 is really old but if like 65 year olds were just pleasant about having to have PT I might not try to avoid internships that will mostly be with old people.
From:
no subject
It's funny, one of my managers and I were talking about how unpleasant old people could be. (Mostly because we were wondering how well the guy would take to being bossed around and outranked by 20-year olds). Apparently there are old ladies working at Tinseltown now that are all snappy and "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" when you go to buy a ticket. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? Maybe old people need to stop just being generally bitter and grumpy, and the world will be happier. In fact, the old people I know who aren't generally crabby are quite cool. (-;