What Is It About People?

Tonight the Object of My Affection and I went to see Sin City. A couple weeks ago, we saw Hostage. Both times we went to the same theater. (Both were decent; we liked Sin City better and Clive Owen is the hottest man alive, let me tell you.)

The experience, though, was different and the same both times. In both instances, we went on a weekend night, Friday for Hostage, Sunday for Sin City. In both instances, there were not enough people selling tickets. On the Friday night adventure, there was one ticket seller at each counter and three counters with space for two ticket sellers. So two ticket sellers on what is arguably one of the busier nights for people to go to the theater. They finally opened the third counter with one person behind it, so Rock Starr and I got out of the line we were in (almost at the end of the very, very long line) and went to the new counter. Same thing tonight. One ticket seller, a very, very long line. So Omar asked me, as a manager, what my customers would say if there were forty people in line and one cashier.

They'd ask my district manager to fire me. It's a long line, people don't always get there in plenty of time for their film (like us, since the show started at 7:10 and I didn't get home until five of seven), and they hate to miss the start.

Then we get to the refreshment counter. The wait here was less, but the Sunday adventure was not nearly as satisfying as the Friday adventure. Friday's cashier was pleasant, sweet, and had a sense of humor about how busy it was. She screwed up our order, but was so apologetic and nice that we didn't even get irritated (and trust me, I get irritated at people who work in customer service very easily because I know what they should be doing versus what they are). Tonight, the kid (a different one) was surly, rude, and ungracious. I realize he's getting paid seven bucks an hour to sling popcorn to people, but he can at least smile at someone when that someone says have a good night to them.

The movies themselves were fine, it was the fellow filmgoers who made me go "What is it with People?"

Both movies are super violent. Hi, it's a Bruce Willis movie and he doesn't do stuff like Moonlighting anymore. Don't bring your kids! And yet, the woman behind us at Hostage had at least three kids under the age of thirteen with her, all of them girls who were between seven and eleven. There's a scene with a bong in it and one of the girls asked her mother what that was. The mother's explanation? "It's drug paraphanalia for marijuana." I'm all for being honest with your kids, but Jesus there's a time and a place for those explanations and the movie theater isn't it! There's some pretty disturbing things in that movie: lots of blood, possible rape, suicide and immolation. And these little girls are sitting behind me watching the whole thing! I had a hard time enjoying the movie knowing these kids were sitting behind me. After the movie was over, she herded her kids into whatever tragic tween girl Disney flick was playing that night. Lady, if you went to see a movie and your kids want to see a different one, just send them into the theater they want to see and go see the grownup movies by yourself or with the sixteen year old son who's with you who doesn't want to see Ice Princess (or how Buffy's little sister is kidding herself about her acting career).

So tonight, we're watching a pretty violent movie and as the end credits are rolling, this guy, his wife and their kid walk past us to get out of the theater. The kid is an eight or nine year old girl. I realize sitters are not as cheap as they were when I was a sitter. Twelve years ago, I charged $4 an hour to watch the kids on my street. These days the going rate is more than I pay my staff at my store. Are you so cheap you need to bring your child to a movie like that? Christ, you're going to pay even more later on for the therapy bills when the kid can't stop having nightmares!

People, violent R-rated movies where people's genitals get shot off and their bodies are set on fire and girls are almost raped are not appropriate places to bring your prepubescent daughters (or sons for that matter; it just so happened that in both instances these kids were girls). Get a grip!

Thank you for not being an asshole, Love, Lucy