I've been working in a theatre for a little over a year now (small, two-screen, independent, the same one as /u/kiralovescats!
) and I've collected a few stories of weirdos and bizarre complaints/compliments but nothing quite like what happened tonight.
It's a bit of a long tale, a two-parter with entirely unrelated parts, but I promise it gets good at the end.
**Part 1**: "We're going to see the SCARY movie, right Daddy?"
Right now we're showing *Mr. Peabody and Sherman*, a kid's movie, and *300: Rise of an Empire*, which is... Definitely not a kid's movie, let's say.
Normally in this sort of situation I'll get a lot of parents coming up to me at box office to buy tickets for them and their small children and answering with a joking "Oh, haha, just *guess!
*" when I ask which movie they're seeing. I'll play along for a second but confirm that they're definitely seeing the children's movie once they get their bad Parent Jokes out of their system.
There were a few of these parents tonight,
but after the main rush there comes in a group of two men with two tiny tykes in tow and when I ask them what movie they're here to see the answer comes as an extremely deadpan "*300*.
" I sort of half-chuckle for a moment, startled by the matter-of-fact delivery, before realizing that the man was entirely serious.
* Me: "So... How old is everyone?"
* Customer: "They're four and five."
* Me: "... You...
Were you serious about *300*? You realize it's rated R for basically everything it can be? Lots and lots of blood, graphic violence, language, nudity, and strong sexual content?"
* Customer: "Oh, they're just going to sleep through it."
I was entirely stunned as I printed their tickets and warned them that it was a *very loud* 3D movie. They nodded, smiled, and ushered their excited preschoolers toward concession.
Now, I can be kinda overly protective about tiny kids and my siblings were notably traumatized in their childhood by watching scary movies at the same age.
I had to turn away sixteen-year-olds earlier because they weren't old enough to see it alone but had to just let a four-year-old march upstairs with his dad.
I definitely went to the ladies' room and had a bit of a cry. I'm enough of an adult to totally admit that.
**Part 2**: "... I tripped."
Time passes, everyone gripes a bit about bad parenting and I chill out before the show ends. Once it does, I head back to the box office and my coworkers split up to take care of the mess.
Business as usual.
Suddenly there was a ridiculously loud ***CRASH***. I jump, my coworker at concession jumps, and we stare at each other for a moment across the hallway before finally leaping into action.
I get that it came from the women's bathroom from him and dash in, not knowing what happened.
There's a lot of people hanging about since the show had just ended, a lady was washing her hands and both stalls were taken.
I come to a stop right outside the closest stall and stare at the shard of porcelain that had skidded across the floor and the flood of water rushing quickly after it.
Ladies come out of both stalls, and I glance into the first and confirm that it didn't come from that one before moving down the line and nearly colliding with the woman coming out of the second.
* Me: "ARE YOU OKAY? What happened???"
* Lady: "... I tripped."
She is walking out of the stall, head tilted down towards the ground, seemingly perfectly okay and I glance behind her towards the toilet.
It has absolutely *shattered*. The seat itself is fine, but the entire back part looks like it exploded outwards from one side.
Entire chunks are on the ground and the pipes are violently spraying water on the walls, the floor, and probably me as well.
My eyes are huge and I let the woman pass me as I take a second to screech a bit in my head.
As I turn my head to ask her what happened I see her silently slip out the door around my manager, never to be seen again.
We get the water turned off, wipe up the mess,
and everything is probably going to be okay by tomorrow or Monday but I don't know if I'll ever quite know how that woman managed to demolish our toilet so thoroughly.
TL;DR: Preschoolers make me cry in a bathroom stall. Same toilet later implodes. I think I might be the new Moaning Myrtle.