Slap & Tickle

Friday, Glorious, Friday!

I am SO happy it’s Friday. It’s been one of those weeks (I seriously do not want to relive the crap of this last week of pure hell), and I am unbelievably happy and grateful that the end of the week is upon us. It’s especially amazing to me that until a few years ago, I hated Fridays.

Long ago, in a lifetime far, far away…
…I used to work for these bastards that owned a chain of mediocre “Luxury Theatres.” I say mediocre, because they were once pretty cool, but due to the ineptitude of the management of the company, had slipped and the word luxury could not be applied to anything in the building. The company was riding on the coattails of their reputation that had been set 20 years before, and that rep was quickly erroding. An interesting side note: later they remodeled the theatres, added a lot of neon, digital projection, new seats, etc., and they seem even more behind the times. People still go, make no mistake about it, but the glory days are truly over.

Anywho… back to me.

Movie theaters do their primary business when ‘real people’ (i.e. those with jobs, or in school) are in their spare time. That would be evenings and weekends—for the school kids, Christmas break, spring break and summer break. So when were we busy at the theatres? Friday night, all day Saturday, Sunday matinee and a little on the weeknights (and the aforementioned school breaks).

While the rest of the country would be anxiously awaiting the weekend’s arrival, I would be dreading it. New movies, more crowds, and a disaster or two waiting to jump out at us. No matter how well planned we would go into the weekend, something would surely come along and F’ it all up. If a film didn’t break—and throw the show times off for the rest of the day—then employees were sick, if everything else was fine, then we ran out of some silly bit of stock like popcorn, coke, cups, along with the occasional napkins or straws. You’ve never seen a woman go ballistic until you tell her there are no straws (unless it’s when the tampon machine breaks—then you get a first hand look at the ravages of the PMS).

If we’d covered everything, that would be the night that all the plumbing (read: toilets) backed up into the snack bar, causing us to run around in our bare feet with our pants rolled up. Although it was disgusting, it wasn’t that bad until someone mentioned that the water level was quickly rising to the level of the plugs located around the snack bar. Great, do I want to die of typhoid or electric shock. Wait… wait… I’m thinking here. In the meantime, people are still clamoring for their popcorn—trust me you don’t want to get in the way of someone who came to the movies and can’t get popcorn.

Regardless of what crap went wrong, it was always at the worst possible moment. Usually, a general manager from the company would be watching when and employee would scratch their nuts; or my favorite: would drop a hot dog on the ground, pick it up, dust it off, and throw it back on the grill.

Those Fridays were a lot like Mondays for everyone else. It was crunch time, get the work done faster and better than before—generally, without any reward (at least monetarily). The satisfaction of a job well-done only goes so far for a 16 year-old (or a 36 year old, for that matter).

By the time Monday rolled around, it was a dream! The events of the weekend were over and the prep for the next weekend would begin—but at such a nice slow pace. I used to love Mondays—unless it was a holiday—then I’d f’ing hate them. I’d wander in on Mondays, get the place ready to open, read the paper, start some movies, make a call or two. If I was lucky, I’d see about 12 customers the whole shift. A day without seeing a customer was a sunny day indeed. Mondays, were just glorious…

Now I’ve done a 180 degree turn on this. I hate Mondays (unless they are a holiday) and love, love, love Fridays!

I have nothing of note planned for the weekend (okay, sure there’s the obligatory masturbation several times on Saturday—it’s been a busy week and I must catch up!). I do have a thing tonight I’m going to, but nothing for the rest of the weekend. I thought about the Lonestar, but why bother? No, that’s not self-pity, it’s my natural lethargic state. I’m excited about the weekend; it’s more about the prospect and potential of doing something amazing and fun, but not about actually going and doing something.

So, three cheers for Friday and all the potential for a possibly exciting, potentially fun, probably dull weekend. Hey, a lousy, lazy-assed weekend is still better than a fun-filled workweek.