Light and Darkness

"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.

 

 

 

All That...and a Bag of Chips

Customer service at my job generally involves irate people....or unsuspecting people who suddenly turn irate after having a chat with me. My COD tonight was not lacking in the iratacy (look, Carrie. I made up a word! If you see it on the news, I get all rights to the founding of it. *wink*)

If you've been to the movies, then you know you've spent a month's worth of grocery money at the concession stand. Yes, the goodies are expensive. Clue, folks....we make no money at the box office. Movie companies stay open because of concessions. Thank you for feeding my child and me. And in order to get the most out of our customers, we don't allow outside food and drink. HELLO?! Makes sense right?

This evening one of our concessionists was serving a couple when I noticed the female had brought in a cup from another establishment. I waited for my staffer to say something the entire time she assisted them with their order of nachos. As the couple paid, it was evident nothing was going to be said to them so I spoke up.

"Excuse me ma'am. I don't know if she mentioned it but we don't allow outside food and drink."

She said, "It's just water."

"I'm sorry. We still can't allow you to bring it in."

"Not even water?"

"No ma'am. Unless there are dietary restrictions, we don't allow outside food or drink. We can throw it away for you."

"This is my cup. I brought it."

"Well, it's our policy."

During the entire exchange, her male companion crossed his arms and just stared at me. He gave this look that he was going to kick my ass. Oooo, the look of anger. How fierce it can be! If you don't know me, realize that I'm not thwarted by such looks. My mother can give sterner looks than any one person I know. The kiss of death, her looks say. So, some anonymous male is not going to scare me one bit. I just looked him right in the eyes the duration of the conversation.

They walked away with her mumbling her little curses about me. I can see them whisper to each other and I thought for a moment by the look of their body language they may just go down the hall towards their movie anyways in spite of me. After a few more words between each other, the woman walked to one of the officers of the night and said something and pointed to her cup. He nodded and she walked out of the door....presumably to put it in her car.

Not even twenty minutes later, one of the other concessionists approached me and said that he received a customer complaint about me. A woman was upset because I had made her get rid of her water. His words of what she said?

"I guess she's the manager and thinks she's all that!"

And his response? "Yes, ma'am. She is."

My Coke is Flat.

I was called to one of our side concession stands, also known as the satellites to take care of a customer service matter. Evidently, our soda was flat and the woman wanted a refund. She had refused a refill from another fountain or of an entirely different soda. I was handed the large cup. Imagine my surprise when all that was left of that bad boy was melted ice and a few sips of beverage.

Yes, she got her refund. Sometimes, it's just easier to be done with them.

The DON'Ts and DOs of Friday Night Doobie

If you ever decide to smoke a big fat one and go see a movie, may I make a few suggestions for your Friday night movie viewing pleasure?

1. DON'T chain smoke the marry-jew-wahn-a. The smell is overpowering. Regular cigarettes leave a distinct smell on clothes. Imagine funny cigarettes. tsk tsk
2. DON'T come with a huge group of other pot smoking teenagers. Crowds catch attention.
3. DON'T order more than $40 worth of food for one person. Really?! One order of nachos is enough.
4. DON'T order food at the register directly next to the three sheriff's department officers who are assigned duty to the theater for the night. With four registers open, do you NEED to pick the one next to the UNIFORMED men carrying tasers, nightsticks, handcuffs, and guns? Notice my head shake.
5. DON'T continue to chow down on said munchies when they ask you to turn around and spread 'em when they decide to frisk you. Ok, that was just too funny. I've never seen anything like that; and if I weren't so afraid of having people notice the pee running down my leg, I would have laughed out loud.
6. DO hide your bong instead of leaving it on the front seat when you go into your movie so that the officers aren't waiting to arrest you when your movie is over. If the smell wasn't probable cause to arrest the lot of you, geez, I think that was.
7. DO realize that you will get a visit to the tank for reeking of pot and being such a dumb ass for going out in public and smelling of such....I think I may have gotten a contact high.

The Girl

As much as I love what my gender can accomplish. As proud as I am to be a woman. As fabulous as I think the female sex is....*exasperated sigh*....why, oh why? Why do we act like idiots with our boyfriends, spouses, significant others, partners, etc? Why?!

This happens time and time again. At least once a day, a couple will come into the theater to watch a movie. The guy will turn to his woman and ask his woman what she wants.

"Whatever."

"Really. What do you want to drink?" he'll ask.

"I'm not really thirsty. I'll just have some of yours. Get whatever you want."

"Ok. I'll have a large Coke."

"Coke? You're getting a Coke? No, we'll have a [insert soda other than Coke here...usually diet]."

Getting the soda I ask, "Anything else?"

The male will turn to his date, "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No," she'll insist. "I'm not hungry."

He turns to me. "I'll have a Skittles."

"Skittles? You're getting Skittles? I want Cookie Dough."

He looks at me and says, "We'll have a cookie dough."

"Anything else?" I ask AGAIN. (Have you noticed the pattern in all of the Fresh Fish posts?) Now...This can continue until The Girl has ordered one of every thing on our menu or until the money has been exhausted. And throughout the $20-I'm-not-hungry-get-what-you-want food order, The Girl will insist, she is NOT hungry.

Helen Redding would be proud.

I am woman! Hear me Roar!

The Lister

Two days in a row, I had a Lister. These are those people who seem to believe that I can't retain more than one thing in my pretty little brain. They wait until I have finished each item separately. Have laid it beautifully before them before proceeding on to the their next yummy.

Last night, I had a man ask me for a large popcorn....by the way, he was also a Mumbler. ECK! A Lister is bad enough but when you combine it with mumbling?! DAMN! I asked him if that would be all. He made a noise like he wasn't done and was going to add something else. I stood waiting while he looked up at the board. "Sir, anything else?"

Gruffly, "No. Just the popcorn."

Filled the tub and then set it before him. "Anything else?"

"No," he replied again.

Gave him his total. He paid. Then he asked me for a large drink. "Anything else?"

"No. Just the large lemonade."

Filled the cup and set it before him. "Anything else?"

Again, "no."

Gave him his total. He paid.

"I need a candy and a nachos."

"Anything else?" Can I note that I was getting a bit tired of this by now.

"No."

You know what happens next. This happened two more times. SWEAR!! Each and every time I asked if he wanted more. Adamant that he needed nothing else until RIGHT AFTER I CLOSED THE FREAKIN MONEY DRAWER after each payment.

1...2...3...4...5...breathe...6...7...8...9....10....breathe

I will not scream. I will not yell. I will not slap the customer. I will smile. I will love everyone!!!! Oh yes...and I will not slap the customer.

Today's Lister was just as bad...AND I almost yelled at her. I know I gave her attitude.

The lines at the other registers were long so I jumped on mine and asked for the next person. This woman comes barrelling towards me with four/five children and another woman. As SOON as she reaches my register, she decides she has no fucking idea what any of them want. Let's not mention that she was already in line for several minutes. Let's not mention that all that time was ample for her to look at the boards and decide what their group wanted. Let's not mention that they could have gathered themselves way before getting up to the register. It's not like I suddenly change the menu items as soon as the next customer decides to order.

sigh....

So, I ask her what she wants. She turns to yell and glare at her children. I wait. I wait. I wait some more. She asks for a large drink. And she turns again to the children to ask them what they want. Before they decide, she turns to me to give me another drink order. Still waiting on what I'm getting her in either drink. She starts a conversation with her friend about what they are going to order. Still no decision for the first drink order. Then she tells me she wants popcorn. Size? Hell, I don't know. She has two chats going on with other people when her remaining children decide to ask for things.

Ok...what drinks? What size popcorn? Do you want butter? Simple questions. I expected simple answers. I finally get that I'm filling one drink with Pibb. The other, Diet Coke. Woman is still trying to decide how many drinks while I'm trying to discern what the hell is going on. She tells me at one point, "Double that" while pointing at the first drink. Hmmmm, I'm assuming she meant the second large soda. She tells me to layer her popcorn while asking her boys what kind of drinks they want.

Two sodas down. I'm working on the popcorn. She's like a schizophrenic bipiolar at the counter. Her mood went from being pissed to manic to regular conversational tone WHILST talking to five different people...not including me. Lay the popcorn down and ask her what else she wants. She says something about, "We're getting two of these."

"Two large combos. Large popcorn with two large drinks?"

"No. We already have the two large drinks," she hisses at me. "We need two popcorns. Done the same way." She says all this while still asking the boys what they want to drink and telling her friend that they should get another popcorn and more drinks.

I get the damn second popcorn. Place it on the counter. One of the boys asks me if we serve root beer. No.

Crazy, mean woman asks for a third popcorn while STILL talking to every person with her. I'm asking what other drinks she needs. She can't decide on sizes. She changes her mind a couple of times. Then tells me, "medium Sprite and small rootbeer" while I'm getting the third popcorn.

"No rootbeer," I respond. By this time, I know I sounded harsh. Tried not to. Really did. I even added a smile. But I walked away to get medium drinks while saying it.

"We'll take a Dr. Pepper then," she said rather meanly.

I almost walked away from her at that moment.

After completing the list, I asked her if she needed something else. No. Gave her the total and offered a receipt. She didn't look at me. And I didn't look at her. Called the next person in line while she handed out the items. At that moment, one of her female children asked for change. Explained that I couldn't do that and she had to go to box office if she wanted to break her bill. The woman roughly said to her child, "Just let me give you change. It's easier than having to go through the hassle of dealing with these people."

Um....Yeah. Hassle of dealing with me? BITCH, you are lucky you still have that overbite in your fucking mouth!

Believe it or not....you're reading the blog of a chick who was employee of the month TWO TIMES IN A ROW. Yeah, I know how to fake it.

Classic from the Past

I must praise the majority of patrons that walked the halls at the cinema today. You came and watched and did a good job not to annoy the hell out of me...and the last few days, it has been touch and go with my moods.

But in the spirit of Fresh Fish, I must submit a COD so I give you one from just a couple of weeks ago. It's the Something for Nothing guy.

This COD made his way through my line with wife and children. I can't recall the exact number in their party but I think in total, the number was five. They ordered quite a bit of food. A couple of hotdog combos, the largest popcorn combo, candy, and the lot. Pretty sizable amount of food. We like those...drives up my daily transaction average which nominates me for the prizes at the employee meetings (don't get too excited. They're usually coupons...sometimes exprired at that...to a local fast food chain).

All was said and done with Father COD.

Approximately ten minutes later, I was refilling a popcorn tub for a woman who was complaining about the stale popcorn we had the audacity to serve her. I wasn't paying much attention to who she was talking to until I heard the gentleman say something about a complaint as well. Handed the miss her popcorn and turned to the man (who cut in line, by the way).

It was the COD. He handed me a hotdog that was still laying in the foil wrap and gave me a look that threatened lashes and a visit from the Better Business Bureau for my lack of customer service skills. That look! Hmmmmm, what was wrong with it?

Well, laying on the hotdog were several curled pieces of hair. Hair that looked like several strands had been pulled from a brush and discarded on the floor. I glanced at the man again with a questioning look. I had to because I couldn't believe he had the balls to give this thing back to me. This hotdog on its bun with hair obviously on it. And all he could give me was a stern face that promised civil disobedience right there in a full theater if I didn't take care of the problems I OBVIOUSLY caused.

I took the damn dog and walked to the damage bin, suddenly channeling a black woman from the guest list on Jerry Springer.

"You think I'm a damn fool. Like I don't know you dropped this mothafucka on the floor. Like I don't know it's your own damn fault that your hotdog is nasty. Want something for nothing. I ain't stupid. You're the stupid ass that can't hold your weiner. Hmpf!" I muttered under my breath.

Threw the hotdog in the bin, grabbed a fresh, naked one from the hotdog corral, and handed to the COD.

"Here you go. Have a nice day," I faked.

And when he walked away, "Like I can't figure you out by the mustard and ketchup UNDER the damn hair that you dropped the fucking thing."

Fresh Fish

I had been toying with this concept of a category titled "Fresh Fish" recognizing the Customer of the Day or the COD. Why refer to them as "Fresh Fish?" Well, obvious answer is the reference to the cod. BUT honestly, there are those CODs that need a good slap in the face with a freshly caught, dead, wet fish....preferably a huge marlin that knocks him/her out until your shift is over and you've gone home to a huge glass of wine. Anyone who has a job dealing with the public (and might I say, a large number in that public) knows exactly what I mean. We each have a COD that we go home to a loved one and bitch about. Hell, some of us may even kick said loved one just to release some of that pent up frustration.

I've got a few that are just fantastic. These are the people you brag about to your fourth and fifth cousins at family reunions. These are the people you wish you carried a camera to work just so you can have proof that we as a race of people need not worry. No need to worry about the immoral practice of gene selection. No need to worry about a "Super-race" being created by altering the gene pool with our advanced sciences, which filter out the deformities and non-choice characteristics. The CODs are here to remind us that there is beauty in variety....even if that means putting up with an angry, stupid, slow, picky, whining customer. BUT in honor of those idiots whose fathers' slow sperms finally won ONE race up the Fallopian Tubes, I present a new category here on Light and Darkness...Fresh Fish.

Today's Fresh Fish goes to the grossest of CODs....the teenager. This young man of approximately fifteen years approached my counter this afternoon. First thing I noticed was his Bubba shirt and hat. You know....the camouflage shirt that displays his love of hunting and the Old South that is only surpassed by the magnificently beautiful trucker hat on his unruly mop of teenage hair. Next things I noticed were two objects in his hands: the large cup and large popcorn tub, both refillable for free at our establishment. He tells me that he needs refills and that he is going to buy nachos as well. First comes the cup.

"Diet Coke," he tells me.

I look inside as I ask him if he needs more ice. The cup has only a teaspoon of clear liquid at the bottom. Has this been washed out, I ask myself. Is this a dumpster dive treasure? I looked closer and saw a minuscule ring of dirt at the bottom of the cup. O-K....Filled it up anyways.

I reached for the popcorn tub that looked battered. No sweat. People sometimes grip their concession delights tightly when munching away. "Butter on your popcorn?" I ask as I look in.

"Yes. And I'm going to get nachos too," he repeated while showing a twenty twisted in his hand; and my eyes moved in shock between him and the tub.

"Did you take this from the trash?" I questioned.

"No."

"Are you sure? Because there is a lot of hair and dirt in this," I spurted out rudely in disbelief. Images of the floor staff emptying their dustbins into the trash cans sitting right outside each theater door popped into my head. Next I saw this boy reaching into the trash for the most usable cup and tub and shaking out the leftover popcorn.

"Yes. It's my mother's," he exclaimed emphatically.

I know I grimaced. I know my lips stretched out into a ewwwwwww. "Whatever. OK. Do you want butter?"

"Yes. I'm getting nachos too," he repeated once more, I think more to prove that he honestly owned these recycled, discarded items.

People....I filled that dirty, nasty tub FULL of popcorn. It was beautifully overflowing with hot steaming popcorn and warm buttery topping layered throughout. And all I could think was.....God, what if the previous owner spit a loogey into this thing because he was choking on a kernel?