Ode To A Movie Theatre

Since the age of sixteen, I have worked in a movie theatre.  Every break home from college, every summer, almost every weekend I’ve been at home, has been spent there.   In that small theatre with three big screens, one little, and no windows, I have spent many an hour.  I have served popcorn, got drinks, splashed butter, and swept the floors, I have bled, I have burned myself, I have laughed more times that I could possibly imagine that I would.

It has been the best job to have, especially the best first job.  I have been unbelievably spoiled.  I have been surrounded by something I love, I have been surrounded by films, I get to talk about movies every single day, I get to talk about them to people who are equally as passionate and nerdy as myself.  Our work uniform can be any film related shirt we own, of which we all have many.  Star Wars, The Goonies, Jaws, Friday the 13^th, Office Space, new films, old classics, we wear our shirts with pride. 

I have been spoiled because I work with my friends.  I sit in the back office with these people and debate about who’s stronger, The Hulk or Thor.  We sort ourselves into Hogwarts houses, and we assign the elements of Avatar to each house.  We watch trailers and grade films, we write blogs, and we make fun of customers we see on the video cameras.  We run away from customers we don’t like.  Like the guy with the mustache who talks too much, or 8 o’clock lady who never leaves.  We make fun of “BB” and thank god she finally gave us a good enough reason to kick her out forever.

I understand that I am the only one that will be able to appreciate this post.  But I just wanted to write about a place that has meant a lot to me these past six years.  That will still continue to mean a lot to me.  Plus, I might be back there in four months if this temp job doesn’t work out, so it doesn’t really feel like I’m leaving for good.  That and they might need me come October when the tourists go rampant and they think they own the place.  (They don’t).  So tonight, I will have my last shift (maybe), at least for the next month or so.  They couldn’t get rid of me if they tried. 

No more "first day of school"

So, I am starting a new job tomorrow.  This day also happens to coincide with the beginning of freshman orientation at WAC.  Now, I know move in day was today, (Thursday) but let’s be honest, most shit starts tomorrow.  Do I feel like this is some sort of sign that my college life and post collegiate life have somehow come full circle?  I want to say no because that sounds douchey, but in a small sense, yes, it feels a little full circle to me.

Four years ago around this time I started some weird adventure where I went to the land the Chesapeake with no idea where I was or who I was.  After four years I found out where I was, and only somewhat who I was (am? Tenses are hard).  I went into college with somewhat of a passion for writing, and left writing a blog and having written no pieces of writing other than an abundance of English essays, History papers, and an occasional lab report.

I used to think I was bad at making friends, but that was actually just because I was a stupid ass in high school.  I’m actually really good at making friends, keeping them maybe not so much, but the ones I have will mostly likely fill my otherwise boring life with amazing stories.  These are not limited to calling and telling me they woke up in a parking garage, or being blackout drunk peeing on a roommate’s entire DVD collection (The parking garage I condone, the destruction of a movie collection I do not).  There are few things I prize more than loyalty, and that goes both ways.  If those morons tell me they need my help hiding a body, you bet your ass I’ll be there with some duct tape (do you need duct tape for that?  I am totally underprepared).  And if they call and tell me we’re doing a reunion at The Bird on some random ass Tuesday night when I have to be on a train at 6:30 the next day, like hell I’m not gonna be there. 

So moving on from that sentimental and weepy crap.  Ok, not really.  I’m sad I’m not moving in this weekend, I’m sad I don’t get to start classes on Monday.  Would I give my twin brother for just one more year?  I want to say no, because most people think it’s wrong to offer up your twin brother, but hell, I’d fucking do it.  I want one more year of hanging out in left field at a baseball game drinking beers hidden in backpacks.  I want one more Friday night where I’m shitfaced by 8.  I want to go to class hungover as hell and smelling like beer on Wednesday at 9:30.  I want another homecoming dance and birthday ball.  I want an Ihouse party circa sophomore year.  I want to call my friends and tell them I don’t know where I am, but they better come find me anyway.

And I know I can want this forever and it’ll never happen.  I’m starting my first real job tomorrow on a Friday (who starts on Fridays?) and I won’t be done by noon and drinking by one (just kidding, I only drank that early on special occasions…).  I’m not scared, because I feel like I’ve done this a hundred times, maybe not in an office, but I’ve had more “first days” than I can count.  Now lets pray I don’t get fired.

Cover letters

To me, cover letters are like papers, only ten times more horrible.  See, I can bullshit a paper.  I don’t like to, and believe me I feel like shit afterward (less so when it gets a good grade) but I do it.  I do it because I would procrastinate to the last possible minute to the point of absurdity.  And this “last possible minute” began to grow more and more (or less and less) as my time in college went on.  The “last possible minute” in my final semester at WAC had gone from the 24 hour mark freshman year, to an hour before my 10:30 a.m. class.  That paper needed to be five pages long with substantial textual evidence which I had yet to look for.  I got an A- by the way.

This brings me back to this cover letter problem.  Which is that I do not know how to bullshit them.  Because you can’t, because they actually mean something in life.  This isn’t going to get graded, this is a potential job or career.  And I’m not talking about a cover letter to fucking Target (pretty sure you don’t even need one), it’s for fucking Harvard University.  You don’t bullshit Harvard.  Plus I’m not one for lying.  I find myself to be a rather honest person – except about feelings, god knows I’d keep those locked about in an ivory tower if I could.  I don’t want to falsely advertise myself as my mother keeps trying to do. 

I’m going to be honest, my resume is not impressive.  I never got any other summer job besides the one I’ve had at the movie theatre since I was 16.  Every summer my mom bitched, prodded, and poked for me to get another job, and somehow, magically, I never did.  I’ve spent almost six years smelling like popcorn and butter, having to take shit from some of the stupidest people in the world, and barely scrapping hours together to have something to spend on booze when I got to school.  I never did anything else except for the summer going into college where I worked in an office building at a community college on the North Shore.  It was fucking murder, or it would drive me to murder, I can’t pick which would have been worse.

I was always too scared to apply to anything else.  Mostly due to the fact that I have zero self-confidence, and also partly because, let’s be honest, I wanted to spend my summer days sleeping until 10:30 until I had to go to work to 10:45 to work until 4:30 three days a week.  But the majority of the reason is because the only thing that I’m pretty confident about myself is that I’m not qualified to do anything with my life besides write sarcastic personal essays using a (mostly) anonymous blog.  How’d you like that run on sentence?

So here I am, sitting at my home computer attempting to write a cover letter and failing miserably.  What am I supposed to say?  Dear ______ I heard through the grape vine that you have a position for ______ and I would probably (not) be very good at that. 

Why the fuck did I major in History?