Chapter IV: The Night Shift

The Night Shift

The night goes by so much faster with laughter.

I arrived at Jester at five. The next set of movies wouldn’t start till seven. At a dead theater in suburbia, a two hour break meant that the crew would clean the mess from the previous set and then talk about the ongoing Jester soap opera for an hour or so. I really don’t understand the propensity for these kids to forge fleeting relationships at work.

“Kids.” Listen to me. I’m only one year older than most of them. But the difference one year of college makes…

Of course, the girls mostly talk about the Jester Drama. The guys just try to make everyone laugh. I just happen to be the best guy for that job too. One day, the Jester crew starting dishing out nicknames to everyone. I was the “funny one.” This wasn’t my first nickname at Jester.

Around six, one of the new assistant managers, Dana, assigned me to the “float” position. Obviously someone let her know that I could do any job the theater needed me to do and that I’d do that job without protest. Dana transferred over from the bigger theater in the next town over. She impressed me with her competency. An unfortunate situation altogether as she only worked in Hellerton once a week. I followed her assignment and drifted from concessions, to box office, to cleaning theaters, and to any of the odd jobs I undertook along the way for the rest of the night. I still don’t care what job I do, just so long as I have a job.

Around quarter to seven, the box office lines surged. Elise stood alone in the Box Office. “Cute enough,” I always thought. She had the right height, a sweet smile, but a caustic complexion. Her saving grace was that healthy sense of humor. I’ve always been such a sucker for girl who laughs at just about anything I say.

“Hey Elise, looks like I’m here once again to save the day,” I said suavely while signing into my register.

“Zach, save that kind of talk for Cameron.” She knew that would shut me up.

Cameron. My first real girlfriend. We started dating senior year of high school and managed to keep it going throughout freshman year of college. All of those two in the morning phone calls—all cherished and forgotten. I wish I never knew her now. But that night while selling tickets to hundreds people she must have penetrated my unconscious and secretly kept me in euphoria.

It wasn’t long before I jumped on a Box office register that the lines for the seven o’clock set dissipated like hookah smoke out an open window. Typical Friday night. I’ve heard people call it international date night. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date on Friday night. Unless you consider a standing arrangement with dear sweet Jester a date.

Cameron and I always went out on Tuesday nights. I worked the day shift on Tuesdays. She’d meet me at work. We’d grab grub somewhere and then head straight back to the theater for a movie. That is of course unless something more…satisfying came up. Working at the theater provided cheap enough dates. Free movies are quite the perk.

I helped clean the concession stand around eight. Gravity must really get a kick out of pulling down popcorn--enough of it falls on the ground. I can’t imagine how many tons get swept up by brooms and butlers each year.

I took my break at 8:30. I hopped in the Saab and drove to the Wendy’s pick up window. I always got Frosties and French Fries for the rest of the crew on Friday nights. I chomped down a spicy chicken sandwich and a side salad. At least I created an illusion of eating healthy.

After break, I cleaned a few theaters with the usher crew. The girls often worked the front end jobs selling tickets and junk food. The guys picked up all the stuff the girls just sold. My cheery benevolence towards strangers often kept me out front with the girls. That gets annoying after a while though. A guy needs to work with guys sometimes if only to vent testosterone induced frustration. I still haven’t found a better release for stress than yelling, “F**K!” in an empty movie theater.

The business really is sexist. The girls always say they want to go on cleans. The only time they get the chance is during the week when a guy isn’t there. Yet we all put up with it.

The ten o’clock set lagged. A few semi-intoxicated couples and a handful of stoners came for a few terrible comedies. I covered Box Office for Elise so she could talk to Ally. At that point, exhaustion kept me from caring about fairness in the work place.

Around ten after ten, a familiar voice awaked me from my mechanical daze.

“Hey look! It’s Zach Crass! I heard he never leaves Jester and sleeps on the popcorn kernels in the back.”

“And I heard his girlfriend is a s**t.”

I knew I’d found the right girl when it became evident that I could joke around with Cameron and call her s**t in front of complete strangers.

“And I heard Zach f***s koalas to pay for her.”

Attribute that statement to Seth Miller—he has one demented sense of humor. Cameron and Seth decided to go see Martin Scorcese’s The Departed again. I told them to tell Paul, the ticket taker, that the “Butcher said to let them in for free, otherwise he’d find himself the main ingredient in a Jester Hot Dog.”

Seth, Cameron, and I met in Eighth grade and even though Cameron was my girlfriend—I could care less that Seth and her were going to see a ten o’clock movie on a Friday night. My relationship with Cameron never severed our mutual friendship with Seth—something I feared would happen.

A friendship that steady doesn’t just sink one day, right? I’ll never forget my first year in Hellerton when they were my life line. My first two real friends. My two connections to sanity and fidelity.