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Mondays at the Movies
Work. It’s terrible. At least I have a semi-interesting job. True, the black and yellow vests aren’t exactly glamorous, but working in a movie theater is always interesting. Cleaning out the theaters, selling tickets, and best of all, free popcorn, candy, and movies. Down side are all the teenagers that go though. They’re loud, annoying, immature, and just when you get the cardboard cutout advertisements for new and upcoming movies, they knock it down or rip Johnny Depp’s arm off.

However, I didn’t have to worry about that on this day. I was just selling the tickets. A nice, easy, and sometimes peaceful job. I had just finished giving seven tickets to a woman with six kids in full-on birthday mood, when the phone at the desk rang.

“Hello. Raffle Theaters. How can I help you?” I answered in my programmed voice.

“William, please. Help me?” Paul pleaded.

“Paul? How did you get this number?” I paused for an answer than quickly realized I didn’t want one. I answered myself. “Never mind. I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?”

“Because! It’s not my fault you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“But you have to help me. I don’t know what to do,” he pleaded. It was disgusting.

“Well, grow up and figure it out by yourself.” I slammed down the phone. Just for extra measure, I picked it up and slammed it down a couple more times. A guy walking in the door gave me a strange look, but I just ignored him. Paul was getting on my last nerve.

The phone rang only a few seconds later.

“Hello. Raffle Theaters. How can I help you?”

“Please?” Paul.


I slammed down the phone again.

“Rough day?” the guy asked me, now standing in front of me.

“No. Just annoying,” I answered.

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