This Choice Doesn’t Sit Well With Him

, , , , | Right | July 12, 2018

(I am selling tickets at a movie theater. Our location has reserved seating, and a customer has to choose a seat before the system will allow us to authorize a sale. I am the only one selling tickets at the moment, but between my register and the ticket kiosk machines, I manage to keep a line of no more than three customer groups at a time.)

Man: *older, and generally kindly* “All right! Front of the line! Let’s see, let’s see… Oh, right! My wife and I wanted to see [Movie] at [time]!”

Me: “Of course! That’s two for [Movie] at [time]. And where would you like to sit? You can see our seating chart here.” *I indicate the screen that’s just popped up* “Seats in white are available. Blue is taken. The back of the theater is here, and the screen is here.”

Man: “Oh, my. I’ve never had to choose my seats like this before!”

Me: “Yes, it’s a system not many theaters have. But I do need to know where you’d like to sit.”

Man: “Usually I just walk in, and decide from looking at things.”

Me: “Yes, I hear that a lot. We can always sell you tickets for where you’d like to sit, and you can head into the theater and check them. Then, if they’re not acceptable, I’d be happy to switch them out for you, right away.”

Man: “Yes… but how do I pick the seats I want?” *still smiling, still friendly*

Me: “Well, do you prefer to sit closer to the screen, or further back?”

Man: “Oh, I don’t know. I usually like to walk in, and see the layout first.”

Me: “I usually sit around here, in the middle. There’s a bar you can put your feet up on, and no seats in front of you here.”

Man: “Yes, yes… but what if I don’t like those seats?”

Me: *starting to get a bit worn* “I’d be happy to swap them out for different seats for you, then.”

Man: “Of course! Of course you would. But how to choose which seats I’d like… I usually walk in before deciding where I’ll sit.”

(This goes back and forth for almost ten minutes. A considerable line has formed behind him, and I’ve had to radio for assistance selling tickets, but no one has showed up yet.)

Me: “Sir, I have to tell the computer something to sell you a ticket. I’m just going to give you these seats, here—”

Man: “No, no, what if I don’t like them?”

Me: “Then we can switch them out for other seats.” *I gesture at the line behind him* “If you’d like some more time to think it over, would you mind if I took care of the line behind you?”

Man: *he turns, and regards the line that’s formed, before turning back to me, still all smiles, completely calm* “That’s okay. I’ll just pick my seats now. Now. Where would I like to sit? I usually pick my seats after I’m in the theater, you know.”

(I ended up having to work with him for about twenty minutes. Thankfully, a coworker eventually made it over to help with the line. He was so odd. He refused to pick a seat, but wasn’t belligerent or angry at any point in the transaction, and he never seemed like he was being passive-aggressive, or pranking me. His wife eventually joined us, and she picked their seats. She had been waiting for him by the ticket-taker. At least they still made their movie?)

A Scam Fit For The Movies

, , , , , , | Legal | July 11, 2018

Coworker: “Hey, I have a customer here who says he saw a woman and her kid removing the wet floor sign from theater eight.”

Me: “All right, I’ll go check it out in a sec—”

(Suddenly a woman comes limping towards to ticket desk.)

Woman: “Oh, ah, oh, my back!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, are you okay?”

Woman: “No! I want to speak to your manager! Ah, oh, my back!”

Me: “I am acting manager. What can I help you with?”

Woman: “I’m going to sue this place! I just slipped and fell on an unmarked wet spot in one of your theaters!”

(My coworker and I exchange a bemused look while the lady pretends to be in serious pain. I decide to play with it a little bit.)

Me: “Oh, no! Whatever can we do?! Please, don’t sue!”

Women: “Well, firstly, you can compensate me for my pain. Oh, the pain!”

Me: “All right, miss. As you are injured, I need you to fill out this accident report.”

Woman: “Oh… Can’t you just compensate me without? I’m a very busy woman, you brats! Oh, my back!”

Me: “Well, firstly, I just need a picture of you.”

(My coworker rushes over with a phone and takes her picture.)

Me: “And can I see a driver’s license, and a credit card? Our drawers won’t open without a cash transaction, so I’ll just put, say, $250 straight into your bank through your credit card.”

(I don’t know if that’s actually possible to do, but it sounded true enough, because the woman’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. She pulls out her driver’s license and her credit card and hands them to me, all the while groaning in pain.)

Me: “And real quick, can you tell me what happened, while I write an incident report?”

(I get a blank piece of paper and a pen, and while she tells us her story, I write, “This woman is an idiot. This is going to be funny; just wait,” and hand it to my coworker.)

Me: “All right, miss, I only have one problem before I put the money through.”

Woman: “Yes? Ah, oh, my back.”

Me: “When you told this story, why did you leave out the part where you moved the ‘wet floor’ sign?”

(The woman sprinted away, leaving me with her license and credit card. My coworker saw her license plate, and we called the cops to say she attempted fraud and was driving without a license. Apparently she was already on probation for attempted fraud, and in a few months when she gets out of jail, she won’t be going back into my theater; we put up the picture of her and her name next to the ticket booth, and she is no longer allowed to enter any of our 50+ movie theaters nationwide!)

Clean Meets Mean

, , , , | Right | July 10, 2018

(It’s a slow Monday evening, and I’m the only one cleaning theaters. Our busiest show only has five customers, and I’m waiting in the back of the auditorium with a trash can and broom for the customers to leave as the credits are rolling. [Customer #1] and [Customer #2] are attending the movie together, while [Customer #3] is part of a different group.)

Customer #1: *overheard to [Customer #2]* “Do you want to help me pick this up?”

([Customer #1] gestures to several drinks, courtesy cups, courtesy trays, and napkins strewn across their seats and the floor. I start to push the trash can as close to their row as physically possible to be helpful and drop a hint.)

Customer #2: *gestures to me* “Nah, she’ll get it. It’s whatever. Let’s go.”

Me: *seething as [Customer #1] walks past me* “Have a good evening.”

Customer #3: “Excuse me? Do you mind if I put this in here?” *gestures with empty popcorn bag to trash can*

Me: “Not at all! Thanks so much. I appreciate it! Have a nice evening.”

([Customer #2], who had been collecting her purse and jacket from her seat, turns beet red and runs out of the theater after [Customer #1], still leaving all the garbage behind.)

Me: *calling after her with as much sarcasm as I can muster without actually sounding rude* “Enjoy the rest of your evening!”

The Merc With The Mouth Versus The Customer With Opinions

, , , , , | Right | July 9, 2018

(I work in a movie theater. I’m a manager helping on concessions one morning when a man in his 20s or 30s comes in.)

Customer: “What time is Star Wars playing?”

(I give him the times and he starts to leave, then he suddenly comes back up.)

Customer: “I have one more question.”

Me: “Sure, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “Why is Deadpool so violent? It’s so violent, too much!”

(I laugh, thinking he is joking. He stares at me, waiting for an answer.)

Me: “Sir, I didn’t make the movie, I have no control over how much violence they put in it.”

Customer: “So, why is it so violent?”

Me: “I didn’t make the movie… Deadpool is a very over-the-top movie. I personally loved it!”

(The customer glared at me and stormed out the door.)

Boy Oh Boy!

, , , , , , | Hopeless | July 1, 2018

(While I’m in college, I waitress at a dine-in movie theater. One evening, I have a couple of teenage boys in my section. Because they’re sitting weirdly far apart and keep exchanging nervous glances, I ping them as an adorable couple, albeit one that hasn’t spent much time together in public, as this is in a conservative state.)

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you anything to drink while you look over our menu?”

Boy #1: “I’ll take a root beer.”

Boy #2: “[Soda], please.”

Me: “And will that be together or separate?”

(Both freeze slightly, but [Boy #2] reaches over and takes [Boy #1]’s hand.)

Boy #2: “To… together. We’re together.”

Me: *deliberately nonchalantly* “I just need to know if you’re getting separate checks.”

(Both visibly relax and move closer to each each other.)

Boy #2: “One check, please. He paid for the tickets, so I’m getting dinner.”

Me: “Solid plan. We’ll have those drinks right out for you.”

(I make sure to go above and beyond with them, and each time I see them, they look more comfortable. By the time I go to cash them out, [Boy #1] is curled up on the seat with his head in [Boy #2]’s lap.)

Boy #2: *signs credit card slip and returns it* “Hey, miss? You were excellent. Thank you.”

Me: “Are you kidding? You’re the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. You made my night. Possibly my week. Enjoy the show.”

(Three years later, I still randomly think about the Extremely Cute Couple, and I hope they’re still together.)

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