Secret Story: For Those Who Scroll

The dark of the Movie theater. How trusting you are to sit in the dark with hundreds of total strangers, also sitting in the dark,

Right - Behind - You.

I remember working in the Movie Theater as a young lad. After a while, I got bored with the novelty of seeing free movies, the SAME movies, several times a day in chunks, scraps, and pieces. Then there were the rude folk. Those human droppings who try to waste everyone else's money and enjoyment by making stupid remarks, kicking the seats in front of them, and/or being generally obnoxious. I would always be the one, chose by the management, to go quiet the "loud" ones because I was pretty good at it.

I'm a big guy and I was good at getting obnoxious people to be quiet.

I could always be counted on to go in; make the noisy people in the audience silent, and come back out. No muss, no fuss: not ever

Truth be told though, even in a 12 screen theater, it was hard to keep quiet about the people who wouldn't leave after the movie was over: the people for whom an ambulance had to come and take them away.

No witnesses of course: total strangers, no one knew each other. The folks seated in the dark, didn't see what happened, or maybe did see but were secretly delighted at the plight of the obnoxious jerk who had harassed them so.

Hmmm. I didn't really think of that at the time. I probably should have given that more thought.

In any case, the first three times it happened, the manager was very tense about having to call an ambulance and the subsequent arrival of the police. And yet she didn't fire me, and she didn't send someone else: I was THAT good at my job. One day she was told that if the police or ambulance had to come one more time, they would close the place down, there would be an investigation, and they would release it to the news.

So . . . did my boss turn me in? Did she fire me?

No. She just stopped calling the ambulance: No ambulance, no police. Whenever somebody couldn't leave, she would send me alone to go with the great big plastic garbage cart to clean up the screen room for the next show.

Soon, obnoxious people weren't coming to our theater as much. Everything was fine for many months, almost a year. My manager was promoted out of the theater and they sent someone else to run the show.

One summer day, two days after school let out, we had one screen room with an ENTIRE ROW of rude noisemakers, disrupting others and daring the other moviegoers to do something about it. I remember that it was a very hardcore horror movie: a gory blood and guts kind of flick; really attracts a select type of fan. As always I first asked the noisemakers to please be quiet in respect to the rest of the patrons. That works about half the time.

"You think you can make us be quiet?" was the response. Well of course I could. I knew that, though I guess they didn't. There were many of them, so I couldn't be furtive, quick and silent as usual - but - I did make them be quiet.

I silenced them during the loudest, most screamingest part of the movie.

- Just as the film broke.

- A blinding bright shutter blade of light froze me and exposed me at 24 frames a second.

The automatic sensor alarm on the projector alerted the manager in her office. This was her first time with me and my methods.

She arrived in time to see the result of silence. She stood there gaping at me and my work. Then the stunned crowd rose to give me a standing ovation. Some of my new "friends" helped me move the silent people out to the dumpster. They clapped my horrified manager on the back and swore how they "would always come back to THIS theater!"
"This one really takes care of their customers!"
She left in a daze while I cleaned the screening room, only to ask my co-workers to call the police. Her surprise at me was compounded by the response she got from them. I'd worked at the theater for years and many of them had worked with me nearly as long. So of course they knew me and what I did. I'd been at it for a long time.

After closing, the new manager asked me to "Please help me lock up."
When everyone was gone, she courteously gave me the day's receipts, over $30,000 dollars in cash, and asked me to "Please quit." and never come back. She was exceedingly polite.

I'm not stupid of course, I clearly understood her reasons and I appreciated her being up front with me.

I finished college and got my degree. Now I'm a police officer. The TV show COPS is coming to our city next week to spend a month taping and riding with us. The Police Commissioner himself has given me that time off: a bonus vacation with pay.

-Feo Amante