December 24, 2012 ☞ Personal inventory
I was working the guest services desk at the local AMC movie theatre, when an impatient customer demanded to exchange their seats for another show. Because there were so many tickets and so many payment methods, it was taking a long time. He was getting antsy and expressing as much to his friends.
“Can you believe this guy? This kid is taking forever.”
Typically, I am able to deal with movie-goers with grace and tact. But on this particular evening (a clusterfucky night swarming with suburbanites desperate to see the latest blockbuster) a crack appears in my façade.
“Listen, dude. I didn’t design this computer system. I’m waiting for these tickets to print, just like you are. If you could leave me alone for a few minutes, I’ll get this done as fast as I possibly can. Is that OK with you?”
And without waiting for an answer, I turn back to my computer.
Only a few minutes pass before a manager walks over to my desk. Everod’s a jovial guy who usually doesn’t give the teenagers he manages a hard time. But he had gotten a complaint and was following up.
“So,” he starts, “what’s this I hear about you designing the computer system…?” I lose my cool. I start to vent, rather loudly, about anyone and everyone who has ever wanted to see a movie. Everod reminds me that I might appreciate a short break. I storm out into the smoking stairwell to commiserate with coworkers and gulp in some calming second-hand smoke.
When I return my station is eerily quiet. The prime time shows are underway, and only a few stragglers litter the lobby. My booth, once swarming with insufferables, is now a serene oasis.
And on top of the counter is this Jesus watch.
People probably assumed I was a Jesus Freak (we’re just friends), but I wore this thing until the batteries gave out.