So Much For A Relaxing Day At The Movies

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.