Wednesday, November 11, 2009

I'm Made of Magic

I wanted to feel a little classy after spending the evening cleaning up people's detritus at the movie theater, so I made a rum drink with Cherry Pepsi (which I get free at the theater). Now that may sound to you like the opposite of classy, and you'd be right. To class this drink up, I busted out one of the tumblers I got when my dad's father downgraded apartments and gave me a bunch of servingware. So now I'm sipping a delicious beverage and letting out stress by writing about it.

For some reason, everyone must have come to the movies today thinking "I know, I'll throw shit around and give the guy more work than he already has!" My theory is that their lives suck, and they want to feel better by treating me, a worthless movie theater employee, like scum. Either that or they're just rude. In any event, every theater tonight was trashed. Even the ones that only had 5 people in them. In two different theaters I found sunflower seed shells all over the place. What kind of jerk deliberately scatters shells all over the place? I mean, someone has to clean it up. You're making someone else's day that much worse. We give away small cups for water. Just ask for one of those and keep your mess contained. Jesus.

On a lighter note, I found 83 cents while cleaning up!

Now to the aforementioned magic of which I am composed. At the beginning of my shift, someone out front dropped their ATM card into the metal box that surrounds the ATM machine. No one could see it. Along I came with my handy-dandy usher's flashlight and got stopped to help. I got to the floor and saw the card a few inches away under the metal. My brilliant mind came up with a solution immediately and I went in search of a paper clip. I came back, straightened the paper clip, and fished out the errant card. I made that woman's day. I'm fucking MacGuyver.

Later on, as I was waiting to clean a theater that was letting out, one of the patrons came to me and asked me to help find her daughter's cell phone cover. Twenty seconds later, another woman from the same movie came up and asked me in a Spanish accent if I had a "light-flash." Her daughter had apparently lost her shoe. Tonight must have been "lose your shit and have Michael find it" night. And being made of magic like I am, I found both the shoe and the cell phone cover. I'm MagiGuyver.

My rum and Cherry Pepsi is almost gone, and I feel the siren call of "Six Feet Under," so I'm done writing for the night. Peace to you all!

PS: Next time you go see a movie, please take your trash out with you. If you do, the recent college graduate with a useless degree who cleans up the theater will have less of a shitty day. Please, think of the ushers.

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