Light and Darkness

A Lesson in Kindness

I witnessed a wonderful interaction today. A young mother with her child, a girl about three years old, came to the store to buy a cookie. She was a bit hesitant in purchasing two because she only had a few dollars. She asked how much two cookies were and discovered she had enough to buy them both, one for her daughter and one for herself.

Being Black Friday, you would assume anyone venturing into the mall would have several bags from the bargains. This mum had none. She carried only a balloon, bought for her child, in one hand and in the other she held tight to the wee young. She told her her babe to stay close as she started to count out the money. Obviously, this mother had very little money.

Before she placed the first bill in my hand, another woman appeared beside her in front of me. In a matter of a breath, the new addition to our exchange handed me a twenty dollar bill and stated that she was paying for it. Young mom stood surprised. Stunned. She and I both knew with very little thought that this stranger was kind.

As I handed back the change from the small purchase to the stranger, the mother thanked her with such joyous emotion. And with that, the stranger was off leaving us amazed that there is kindness and altruism and good spirit in this world.

It was truely a beautiful moment to witness and an example of what this season is about and what we as inhabitants of this earth should always strive for.

"That's Communism!"

In celebratory recognition of our election year, my Fresh Fish is a woman who takes our government seriously.

While working on Monday, a woman in her late forties or early fifties passed by me. I noticed the flair on her jacket proudly displaying her support for McCain and Palin. She was moving quickly and I was surprised that she was aware of me. It seemed to me that she was in a hurry to get to her destination.

In mid-stream of her power walking, she stopped and swiveled her body towards me whilst reaching into her bag. "Would you wear it if I give you one?"

With a smile I replied, "I don't support McCain and Palin."

"Obama is scary," she retorts with what appears to be hurt feelings from my response.

"Why?" I was ready for a good discussion. I had nothing else to do at the moment and was determined to hear good reason for anyone to support these Republican ne'er-do-wells.

"He'll raise our taxes. We don't need all those social programs...."

I wanted to stop her there because I'm a firm believer in our country's social programs. Given the number of homeless vets living with mental and physical illness. Given the number of children who rely on those two free meals at school every day because they'll be hungry throughout the night. Given the number single parents like myself who work ten to twelve hours a day and still fall below the poverty line. I wanted to stop her but wasn't even able to breath before she continued.

"...we don't want those socialist programs in our country. That's communism!"

And then she quickly walked on.

Probably the most intriguing thing about this conversation is that this Republican immediately assumed that because I wasn't voting for McCain, I would be voting for Obama. Funny. Barack has them running scared. And even better, instead of taking advantage of the moment to sway me to her side...the dark side...she takes the low road and spouts out crap about the leading opposing candidate. No beautifully melodic promises of a Utopian future promised by McCain. Oh no. She declares Obama a communist. Priceless.

"You Fat Bitch!"

Awwww, folks. The number of times I hear that from an angry customer at work. One would think that cops, bartenders, or hookers being bitched slap by their pimps would hear this. Occupational hazard. But a manager at the movies? Seriously?  Sadly, yes.

We had a verbally violent COD yesterday. He originally wasn't mine either. I was sitting in the customer service office talking to my boss, and I had a clear, front seat view of the podium usher. I notice, in that unimportant way, three customers talking to the employee. I see some slight aggravation but nothing that concerns me. Then I see one of the other managers talking to them. I hear "Sorry....no ID....sorry, sir...." I'm paying attention but not really. I hear more heated tones. Slightly raised voices. "You'll have to leave.....sorry....calm down....."

I'm watching from the window, still talking to my boss. Another manager taking care of it. Then I see something that forces adrenalin to my heart. There were three customers. A girl and two guys. The bigger of the two guys does this forward lunge and yells out, "FUCKING BITCH!" He never touches the manager and then the three walk away. I tell the boss that I've got to go take care of a customer that needs to leave immediately.

When I walk out of the office, I see the three walk to the game room and sit down. I walk over there and tell them that they have to leave the premises. Big dude tells me that he doesn't want to waste the food he just bought. "That's fine," I say. "Take it with you. You need to leave."

Big dude starts cussing and yelling as I'm trying to escort him out of the building. His cohorts follow with smaller dude asking about refunds. I tell them to leave. Big dude is still yelling. I tell him to leave. More yelling, demanding that I listen to smaller dude. I warn him a couple of times that he needs to leave right now before I call the cops and that I'm not listening to anything until he leaves the premises. "YOU FAT BITCH!" Starts to walk away but turns around and hands me some of his concessions asking me to throw them away. In a sweet voice I reply, "I sure will. I'll take care of that for you."

Then I turn to smaller dude as his friend walks out the door. I tell him that I'm not concerned about money and refunds when he and his friends were causing destruction in the building with their attitudes. I'm more concerned about getting them out. I refuse to help them and only want all of them out of the building. Smaller dude gets very angry and as he and his woman leave he says, "You're going to lose a lot of money because of this." I tell them to have a nice day.

Now....here's the thing. The big guy lunged at a woman who was smaller than him. He yelled and cursed her in such a violent way that it made everyone quake. He did this in front of a line of mothers and their 8 year-old daughters who were just trying to get by to see that Hanna girl. He was physically bullying other people. I don't put up with shit like that.

My instinct in a situation like that was to break his fucking knee caps. I wanted to knock his ass to the floor and beat him down. I don't like when I feel that way because it's violent. And I don't react that way. I do opposite because reactions like that get you into big, big trouble. I will not back down to assholes like that and I get called a fat bitch quite often because I don't.

Let me be a five year old girl for a moment. That shIt hurts my feelings. I don't like getting called a bitch because I wonder if I really am. I take it personally. And being called a fat bitch, doesn't send my self-esteem soaring over the clouds in euphoric waves of sugar-coated dreams. It's part of the job I don't like. I'll take a hit. Believe me...physical intimidation doesn't scare me. I've stood face to face to a hard core Marine Drill Instructor that came back from Cambodia fucked up in the head. A 5'6" squatty angry guy doesn't scare me. But call me a fat bitch....ow.

I don't let it show. I take it on the chin. I take care of business. I want to say things that would show these assholes that they missed the opportunity to really insult. I want to spew out insults that they with IQs smaller than a mole rat would have trouble understanding. I want to go Cyrano de Bergerac on their asses. But I don't. I refrain. Their attitudes awaken this temper I've had all my life. I keep it small and leashed for fear of suffering the consequences. Despite the overwhelming need to smash an asshole's face with my fist, I speak with unquavering resolve and end it with diabetic coma sweetness....it pisses the angry ones off just a little more, I've learned.

Eh! The anger eats at me for days following after incidents like that. Feels horrible. Eh! All because we said 'no' to the girl because she didn't have ID for the Rated R movie ticket purchase. Bullies!

Where the Green Grass Grows

When I was in Pcola, the crowds on the weekend were rougher. I had adapted to the more aggressive approach of the people there. I am use to being called a racist bitch or a fat bitch. Yes, it hurts my feelings. Makes me angry. Part of the job.

Here, however....different. I'm sure that I get called the same names under the breath of those that are asked to leave. I have no doubt that I'm the topic of unflattering conversation when they are sitting at a local Waffle House, remembering the night's events. C'est la vie. What this post is about is a group of people I encountered the other night: the privileged teenagers that really have no reason to argue other than being self-indulgent twits.

People loiter. After a certain amount of time, it's time to loiter somewhere else. I'd say that an hour after you've exited the end of your entertainment is more than an ample amount of time for you to stay on premises. Perhaps I'm wrong. Correct me if you must, but let's add that your group is getting bigger by the moments by the inclusion of friends you 'happen' to bump into. Let's also say that your crowd is getting just a bit boisterous and such. Would any of you have disagreed with me to ask the group to exit the building?

Didn't think so.

So, here is my problem that infuriated me and is markedly different than Pcola....deciding that you and your friends should block the exiting doors so other people can't exit. In Pcola, that group asked to leave would have been mouthy. They would have argued with the cops on sight. BUT their asses would have been away from the doors, causing that scene. Not right there causing a safety issue.

Go home! If you can't be respectful of other people's right to enjoy their night out, stay home and watch the grass grow. If you can't have an ounce of self-discipline in your right pinkie finger, stay home and beat each other up in a Steve-O, Jackass sort of way. Enjoy your backyard but stay away from me and the rest of thinking society.

This is NOT the Paris Theater.

Those of you from Memphis will instantly get this reference. For those of you unfamiliar to this particular establishment, I will explain in a very brief sentence. It is a seedy (aren't they all?) adult theater located on Summer Ave.

Having said that....My dear CODS get a motel, why don't you?!

Early COD Gets the Worm?

I have opened every day for the last couple of weeks and every day I encounter this type of COD. But lately, they have become increasing annoying and seem to have multiplied.

Let me pose this question: would you ever walk into a bank's lobby thirty minutes before it opens, ask the employees if it's open, and then say to them, "I'll just walk around and look at things" or "I'll just sit over here until you're open?" No? Really? Doesn't seem like a thing one should do? Would you do the same thing at a store in the mall? At a restaurant before open hours?

So, why in heaven's sake would you do it at my place of business? Seriously -  when I say we're not open, it's not an invitation to come on in and make yourself at home like you're my real daddy's Appalachian kinfolk. And please for your safety and welfare, don't get pissy at me because I tell you that we're not open.

I'm like Disney World, folks. I'm making magic. Let me put on my stupid Goofy head so I can do a proper meet and greet.

"Please bring a note from home"

Why, oh why? If you're nineteen years old....which is old enough to vote, drive, be tried in a court of law as an adult, marry, get drafted, and watch a Rated R film.....why does your mother have to call a movie theater to complain on your behalf that you were bothered by rude movie goers?

"Geez, we can't take you anywhere."

My COD is a group. Those disgusting women who decide to venture into public and infect us all with their presence. This one is a few days old but a good one.

On Thursday I was walking back towards the lobby when I heard one woman say to another as they were exiting the bathroom, "Was it overflowing?"

My ears perked up and next heard, "Yeah, they were all overflowing."

Male companion: "Geez, we can't take you anywhere."

Of course, I stopped and turned back to them. "Excuse me. Is the toilet overflowing," which was an obvious question which got an obvious answer of 'yes.'

I walked in and MY GOD! Four toilets. FOUR. They were filled with toilet paper and stuff. But the one toilet that was the worst was obviously clogged with a feminine product, toilet paper, and such. And the nits that had used these toilets had tried to flush them. Ask yourself this: Do I enjoy cleaning up after a clogged, overflowing toilet? Now, for a little math. MULTIPLY THAT FOUR TIMES!

I spent at least half an hour mopping up the floor, which was covered in half-inch water THROUGHOUT MOST of the restroom. I used two buckets and two mops so that I could make it as sanitary as possible.

sigh

BIG SIGH

We used the plunger and got three of the toilets in working order again; but that damn fourth one....the ugly fourth one was not going to cooperate.

Let me tell you a story, boys and girls. A true story....Ready?

A long time ago in a land not so far away, before automation and in the period of superstition and fears, there lived a primitive people. They believed that women menstruating were special women. These women could kill crops. They could make a pregnant woman abort her unborn child. They were cursed women. So in fear of the hocus pocus power of the menses, they locked menstruating women in sheds away from the general public until the bleeding was over.

This is how it went for years and years until the general public was better educated on the menstrual cycle. But to this day, tales of what happens or could happen during menstruation are still passed on. Ask a woman to tell you a wives' tale or two concering the ol' period and you may just hear one or two.

But the one thing that is true...ABSOLUTELY FUCKING TRUE.....so much true that it is written on EVERY package of maxi/mini pads.....DO NOT FLUSH THE SANITARY NAPKIN DOWN THE TOILET!

...

I never realized how much wisdom there was in locking women away during their flows.

I'm King of the World

Ok, This one's a bit harsh because I'm a little infuriated.. So tonight's COD is one that I encountered after leaving the ol' work place having just enjoyed a flick with daughter.

We have a space specifically saved for that one special person who does fantastic during the month. That employee that went beyond average each day. We reward them with a few things including prime parking.

Tonight there was a HUGE ASS SUV in it. One that cost a lot of money; and as I was leaving and walking down the steps I see the COD open the door for his lady friend. Walking to my car which was conveniently parked in the next row of spaces directly behind him, I say:

N: Excuse me sir. (I was trying to be polite because he was on his phone.) Sir, sorry. Excuse me.

COD: mumble mumble mumble (into the phone)

N: (in the politest, most un-threatening tone I could muster...and I meant it) I'm a manager here. You're ok now but just to let you know. This is the employee of the month space (pointing to the sign) and we can have your vehicle towed (said sign has a little image of a car being towed for space moochers) for parking here.(speaking to COD still talking into his phone)

COD: (automatic belligerence) Well, 11:40 at night and noone is parked here so obviously they're not working.

N: It doesn't matter, sir. We do screen movies late at night and he could come to that. We can still tow the car and you shouldn't park here.

COD: This is a big crock of fucking.....You can tow any car here. I'm a manager too in customer service.(obviously pissed and climbing into car).

N: (walking away thinking I'm done with mad man) Well, thank you, sir. Have a good evening.

COD: (not quite done with me) What's your name? This is fucking stupid.

N: (spells first and last names slowly so he can write it down) And my boss is (insert name here).  And our main phone line is (insert number here). You're more than welcome to call tomorrow.

COD: mumble mumble mumble

N: (certain I'm done now) Well, thank you. Have a good night.

COD: (sarcastically) And thank you for your friendly (stressed more sarcastically than the rest)
mumble mumble mumble

When he pulled out of his space, I was afraid I was going to get run over. Seriously. I've been threatened by vehicle before at a job I held. I don't know why people insist that I'm being a bitch. If I want to be a bitch, the conversation would have been ugly. REAL UGLY.

Two questions pop into my head: What company does he work the fuck for because I hope I never encounter his brand of customer service. Ladies and Gentleman, yes the customer is important but there has to be some guidelines in order for your business to being successful and run smoothly. If you don't take care of your employees, you're going to have some problems. Would you like to be the only person taking care of a crowd of a couple thousand people in a few hours time? I didn't think so. Some employee loyalty is imporant. And secondly, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! that you had to get angry in a matter of two minutes? If God parked his ride there, I would have had the same conversation with him. IT'S NOT YOUR SPACE! Get over it. Apologize and MOVE THE FUCK ON!!!!

Seriously, what is going on with the world and her population? It's the "Entitlement Trend." That's what I've been saying to the others. People have this sense of entitlement. Am I excluding myself? Hell no! I'm just as moronic and selfish as the next human but I swear....there are those that you just want to sit down and have a good chat with. Those rude, careless, apathetic twits that feel noone else exists and they deserve everything....no complaints. Serve me and serve me now.

I encounter those every fucking day.

I spent so much money on gas to come to this movie. I'm the one who walked into the wrong auditorium and missed my movie....so what are you going to give me?

Really? This is something you really want me to answer truthfully because I like my job?

Incidentally, the time that this guy came to the movies was close to an hour after the start of mine. And I know when I arrived at 10:00 there was AMPLE parking in the front row. AMPLE. Yeah, don't give me that bullshit about 'well, that was when you arrived Nae.' Remember, I work there. I know the trends. I know what plays when and how long it's been out and what the crowds are like at the start of the last show. So, I know what the lot is going to look like. And even so, why park there? You couldn't walk a couple extra steps, guy? Why didn't you park in the motorcyle spaces we have reserved? Better yet, the handicapped? Had to choose this one, right? Because it's a good spot. Real good. Right? Sweet and close and just where you want it.

. . .

Selfish? Just a little bit, maybe?

Nachooooooooooooooo

Nacho Libre opened Friday (there was a sneak peek on Thursday evening but we're not going to count that in this post). It opened yesterday with three other films at our theater. Needless to say, we were busy as I was walking out after the end of my day at seven p.m. Lines around our building.

 

BUT....the fresh fish has to be these four gentlemen below. THANK YOU GOD! For the joys of my job which sometimes come few and far between....and on other days come dress as masked wrestlers with blankets as their capes!

 

....forgive me the quality. It was dark in the auditorium and I had forgotten my camera at home, so I had to really lighten the image in order to get an inkling of the outfits.