A customer has ordered two of our personal flatbread pizzas, which are small and rectangular and are made to be personal size… AKA, a pizza is made to be a meal for a single person and thus is sized as such. I’m the hot-foods guy today and get the order, so I make the pizzas in the back and run them out to the only customer waiting for hot foods.

It’s important to note for the story that the customer is black and I am white. Despite confirming he ordered the pizzas, he seems totally confused when I hand him the two rectangular pizza boxes.

About a minute later, I hear commotion, so I go back out. The guy sees me and bursts through the little employee door leading into the employee area of the stand where customers aren’t permitted, and gets right into my face, bellowing.

Customer: “Where the round pies at?! Where the round pies at?! Where the round pies at, [slur for white people]?!”

Me: *Thoroughly confused.* “What?”

He slams his two personal pizzas down on the counter and continues screaming.

Customer: “Where the mother-f****** round pies at?! I ordered two pizzas!”

Me: “Uh… those… those are the pizzas we sell. There are pictures of them on the menu. We don’t have round pies.”

He grabs his pizzas, storms away, and then turns and stares at me with the most insane expression I’ve ever seen. His eyes are practically bulging out of his head.

Customer: “When my movie gets out, I’m gonna f****** come out here and shoot you! You’re a dead man! D-E-A-D!”

He then turned and went to his theater. My shift was over five minutes later, and this wasn’t the first time I had some crazy customer threaten to murder me over something completely stupid, so I just… left.

My manager heard it all, and I told her to call the cops if she wanted. Pretty sure the guy slipped out shortly after, though, since I didn’t hear anything.

I’m working tickets plus concessions at the movie theater.

A young couple, maybe eighteen or nineteen, approach my ticket counter, nervously eyeing the poster behind me for the new PG-13 horror release.

Guy: “Is it, like… really scary?”

Me: “It’s PG-13, so more jumpy than gory. A few cheap scares, nothing too intense.”

Girl: “Okay. We just don’t want, like, nightmares or anything.”

Me: “Well, movie tastes are always kinda personal, but the PG-13 rating is a good guide that it won’t be too intense.”

They both look unconvinced, but for some reason, they buy their tickets and head inside.

Five minutes later, literally five, they walk back out looking pale and shaken.

Girl: “Nope. Nope. That was too much. Couldn’t do it.”

They toss their tickets in the bin (they could have gotten a refund) and walk out the doors without another word.

Curious, I radio the usher in the theaters.

Me: “Hey, did [Horror Movie] start already?”

Usher: “Not yet. Still on trailers.”

Me: “Huh, a couple just left, and they were really shaken.”

Usher: “Oh yeah, I saw them! They left during… uh… the trailer for Alvin & the Chipmunks: Road Chip.”

I lean back in my chair.

Me: “Yeah, fair.

It’s a Saturday night showing, in a packed movie theater for a big anticipated horror release. The movie is tense and silent, building an atmosphere of dread.

And then a couple near the front start arguing amongst themselves. Talking. Not whispering. Talking.

Guy: “This is salted! I wanted sweet popcorn!” 

Girl: “No, babe, I like salted.”

Guy: “You always f****** do this to me!”

The rest of us, meanwhile, are trying to absorb a pivotal plot point and NOT learn about their doomed relationship.

By minute seven, a polite “shhh” comes from the back. By minute ten, someone tosses a kernel of popcorn like a warning shot. At minute fifteen, they’re still yapping, and they’ve moved from commentary on their own relationship, and on to the movie.

Girl: “Oh my god! The kid was the first to die! I called it!”

Random Audience Guy: “Congrats. Want a medal or just a muzzle?”

Snickers ripple down the row.

Guy: “The f*** you say to my woman?!”

Random Girl Up Front: “He told her to shut her f****** mouth!”

Someone behind them coughs the word “narcissists”. Someone else fakes a phone call:

Other Random Audience Guy: “Hi, yes, I’m sitting behind two human trailers for birth control.”

The guy finally stands up to face the audience and shouts:

Guy: “Why don’t you all grow up and get a life?!”

From the darkness, a voice:

Voice: “We did. That’s why we’re trying to enjoy a movie in peace without the director’s commentary from Abercrombie and B****!”

The theater erupts. The couple stumbles out, booed the entire way.

And then we all got back to enjoying ‘A Quiet Place.’

I’m working the ticket podium when a woman shows up with four kids in tow. None look older than ten, all chattering, sticky, and running in different directions.

Woman: “Four for Sonic, please.”

Me: “Will you be watching with them?”

Woman: “For Sonic? You kidding? I’ve got errands. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but kids under twelve can’t be left unsupervised in the theater. Company policy.”

Woman: “They’ll be fine. They’ve got popcorn. And each other.”

Me: “It’s not optional. If they’re staying, an adult stays.”

She huffs, throws me a death glare, and after some grumbling, slaps her card down.

Woman: “Fine. One adult ticket too. Happy?”

She marches all of them through and doesn’t even glance back. About ten minutes later, I get a radio call from the usher:

Usher: “Hey, some lady snuck back out the side door. She just left like, four kids in there.”

Cue the next thirty minutes of chaos. The kids are loud, unsupervised, and clearly not used to sitting still for more than five seconds. They spill popcorn across three rows, argue loudly over gummy worms, and one of them starts critiquing the movie, loudly.

Multiple guests complain, so we have to go in and escort the kids out, but when asked, none of them knows their mom’s phone number, so now we’re calling the non-emergency police line to report a potential child abandonment case.

The officer shows up just as the woman returns, completely unfazed, holding a smoothie.

Woman: “What’s the problem? I was just gone for a bit.”

Officer: “Ma’am, you bought a ticket under false pretenses and left minors unattended. That’s child endangerment.”

Woman: “This is ridiculous! You’re all insane! I’m their mother! I can do what I want!”

They start guiding her toward the exit. She’s shouting over her shoulder.

Woman: “I want the name of your manager! This is harassment!”

Manager: *As she’s led out.* “Sure, ma’am, that’s me, but I think you should use your one phone call for a lawyer…”

Even crazier ending to the story, all four kids were back the next week to try for ‘Sonic’ again, this time with their dad (who stayed), and they were all much better behaved. Weird.

I’m working concessions during the pre-show rush; popcorn popping nonstop, lines stretching out, and everyone somehow surprised the movie theater is busy on a weekend.

Customer: “Medium popcorn, no salt. And make sure it’s fresh. Not that stale stuff from the back.”

Me: “Sure thing. We just finished a fresh batch; I’ll scoop from the new bin.”

Customer: “I’ll know if it’s not. I used to work in a theater. You can’t fool me.”

Me: “No problem.”

I start scooping, and he leans in.

Customer: “And don’t just mix the old stuff on top. That’s the trick, right? You mix it to stretch the batch. I’ve seen that.”

Me: “We don’t do that here.”

Customer: “Yeah, well. Just do it right.”

I hand him the popcorn, freshly scooped. He pays with a card, and I see his movie ticket in his hand.

Me: “There you go, sir, all fresh. If it still feels stale, that’ll be because the movie you’re about to watch has been rebooted twice.”

Customer: *Glare diminishing.* “Oh, I hated it the first two times so I’m expecting to hate this one the most!”

Off he went, dragging himself into the theater with a disapproving scowl.

Coworker: “Wait until he finds out this one’s been split into two parts…”

Related:
Drama Before The Drama Movie