Where I work, only managers can do refunds; the system won’t allow it without their individual PINs. So, whenever a customer changes their mind or we make a mistake, we have to call a manager and wait for them to enter their PIN and do the necessary steps. At the end of the transaction, a small receipt is printed saying that it’s for a refund. Because this takes a lot of time, we normally wait until the end of the rush to do the “official” refund with the managers so the inventory is correct, and we just do the necessary math in our head to give the customer what they want in the moment.

Then, one day, I get one of the few times where I have to call the manager in the middle of the rush because we have to do the “official” refund right now. He comes over and does his thing, the refund receipt prints… and he hands it to me and tells me that he, the customer, and I all have to sign it.

Me: “Wait, what? Since when?”

Manager: *Conspiratorially* “I’ll tell you later.”

I’m intrigued, so after the rush, I call him over and ask about it.

Manager: “Well… I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you, but… one of the other cinemas in our chain had a little… legal problem.”

Me: “Like what?”

Manager: “Like… the ushers picking up old, used movie tickets and some of the managers ‘refunding’ them at the end of the day, and then both of them splitting the money… kind of legal problem.”

Me: “What? But every transaction is logged under our own individual accounts. You need your PINs for everything. And there are weekly and monthly reports about every transaction we do, and the bosses look at them regularly.”

Manager: “Yep.”

Me: “And the managers — who know all this — didn‘t think they’d get caught?”

Manager: “Apparently not. Most of them are students, too. Their criminal record is f***ed for the next few decades. No one will ever employ them.”

And that’s why, from then on, we had to wait for the managers every single time a customer changed their mind, no matter how long it took and how stressful the rush was: because some stupid people thought they could beat the system and failed.

Related:
Refunder Blunder, Part 61
Refunder Blunder, Part 60
Refunder Blunder, Part 59
Refunder Blunder, Part 58
Refunder Blunder, Part 57

When the movie “300” was released in South Africa, I actually went to see it twice in the span of two days. On the second viewing, a morning show, the theatre didn’t have a large audience.

There was a man with a heavy French accent sitting at the end of one of the rows up front. He kept answering his phone and speaking very loudly and discourteously, spoiling the experience for others.

Sure enough, an usher was called in.

Usher: “Sir, can you please take your call outside and come back in when you’ve finished?”

The man was so horribly abusive to the usher. He kept swearing, half-threatened to beat up the usher, and demanded to speak to management.

As it so happens, the manager of the cinema complex walked in then. She was a very smart African lady with a lot of poise and grace. On seeing the manager, the snotty patron became racially abusive, swore at the manager, and started denigrating her anatomy. The manager then did an about-face.

Manager: “Sir, I’m going to have a security guard escort you off of the premises.”

And she walked away.

The patron proceeded to sit down with a smug, victorious snort and continued with his telephone call.

Then, something seemed to arc through the air across the cinema screen. It was very small but very out of place. I remember thinking, “I don’t recall this from last night’s screening. Is it a spear? Is it an arrow? What the…?”

And then, there was a huge splash.

A can of Coke, expertly lobbed across the breadth of the cinema, deftly hit the racist b*****d in the side of his head, erupting on impact and showering him — and his phone — in liquid.

Properly soaked and buggered, he started roaring like a wounded animal, demanding to know who had thrown the Coke.

At this point, the manager walked in with the security guards. The patron resisted, but security forcefully escorted the a***hole out of the cinema to the roaring applause of the audience!

When the lights came up at the end of the movie, we all stood up to see who our savior was, but the only person seated in the area the Coke had come from was an elderly lady in her sixties, who mumbled something about still being thirsty…

I work at a movie theater taking tickets and pointing people toward the correct theaters. One lady comes up to me on my left at the same time as an elderly couple comes up on my right.

The woman on my left has to dig through her bag to find her tickets, so while she searches, I kindly help out the elderly couple by simply ripping their tickets and pointing them to the correct theater. It takes maybe three seconds to help them.

I then turn to my left just as the other lady smacks me in the face as hard as she can with her handbag!

After my shock over what just happened sinks in, I ask:

Me: “What the h*** was that all about?!”

Lady: “You shouldn’t have helped them first! I got there first! You should’ve helped me!”

It didn’t waste any of her time to help them; she simply assaulted me for helping an old couple out!

She also did this right in front of security cameras. I had her escorted off the premises.

One weekday night, we aren’t taking tickets, as there are only two ushers for our fourteen-screen theater, and we are cleaning theaters. We get a call on the radio that two kids have purchased tickets, walked in, and presumably saw that we weren’t taking tickets, walked out, asked for a refund, walked back in, and are likely still trying to see the movie.

My friend and I walk out of the theater we just finished cleaning and see these two kids walking to their theater. We slowly follow them, as to avoid suspicion, and as soon as they walk into the theater, we both sprint down the hall.

As they sit down in their theater, we both walk up and say:

Us: “Can we see your tickets?”

They both just got up and walked out. They tried to buy tickets again, but the box officer didn’t let them.

It was Memorial Day weekend, pre-“health crisis” and pre-Great Resignation. It was hot as Hades outside, so we decided to take our kindergarten-age daughter to an animated feature that was already a hit.

Our first sign of trouble was outside the multiplex. As we pulled up, there was literally a line into the parking lot. The theater only had one of its six ticket windows open.

We finally got into the lobby and decided to get refreshments. My wife and my daughter went to the restroom while I got in the line for concessions, which was also long. When they came out of the restroom, my wife was livid.

Wife: “That restroom is filthy!“

Since the refreshment line was not setting speed records, I nodded in the direction of a big guy in a sportcoat who was surveying the packed lobby like a US President looking over a campaign rally.

Me: “Go tell the manager.”

She did, got some mollifying response, and returned in time to witness my interaction with the concessions employee.

Me: “I’d like one large diet [Drink #1], one small [Drink #2], one medium popcorn, and one kids’ box.”

Employee: “I can’t sell you the kids’ meal.”

Me: “Oh.”

I saw that both the popcorn and drink machines were working.

Me: “Are you out of the candy?”

Employee: “No, we’re out of the box.”

After some back and forth, the employee finally agreed to sell me a small popcorn, a kid’s drink, and a candy bar at separate prices. She gave me this, a medium popcorn, a small [Drink #2], and a large [Drink #1].

Me: “No, that was was a large diet [Drink #1].”

The employee took the large drink, poured it out, and refilled it with diet. Now, when I worked in food service, we were taught never to reuse a cup that had crossed the counter and to ALWAYS give the customer a clean cup, but at that point, I just wanted to get into the theater, so I took it.

That proved problematic, too, because there had been a problem with the previous screening, and there was a line to get into the theater. They finally finished cleaning and let us in, and the movie went off, remarkably, without a hitch… until the end.

As you’d expect in a kids’ movie, there had been a lot of booster seats in use. As we sat there watching the credits, which we do because we’re movie geeks, the ushers came in and began cleaning. This was no problem — except that the crew started physically THROWING the booster seats down the aisle. We found this disturbing, particularly since we were sitting at the end of the row.

Taking the hint, we left between throws, but my daughter needed a restroom break again. When they came out, my wife was as angry as I’d ever seen her.

Wife: “The restrooms are worse now than they were when we got here!”

We looked for the manager, but he — probably wisely — had disappeared. When we got home, I looked up both the mailing address of the local theater and that of the chain’s national headquarters. I sat down and wrote two business letters: one to the local unit and the other to the national office. And got…

…nothing. Not even a standard form letter response.

I’m happy to report that the chain no longer exists; it was absorbed by a bigger and better-run chain. As for that location, we don’t know; we’ve never been back to this day.