Working the Door

In theater lingo, working the door means I'm the one who stands at the front of the theater and tears your tickets when you enter. I thank you politely for coming, tell you which auditorium your movie is in, hand you back your ticket stub and say, "I hope you enjoy the movie."

On week nights when there's not a lot of theater traffic, working the door is BORING! You stand in one place for hours, grateful when a customer comes in and gives you something to do. This may be fine for high school kids who are looking for easy money without having to work up a sweat, but for those of us mature enough to have a good work ethic, working the door sucks.

But being the eternally optimistic person that I am, I try to find something positive in even the most mind numbing routines. That's why I noticed this couple who came in last Wednesday to see The Bucket List - the best movie not nominated for an award at this year's Oscars.

The couple were obviously father and daughter; he looked to be close to 70, and she in her mid to late thirties. She held the door open for her dad to enter, handed me the tickets and headed for the concession stand. The father headed towards the bench to the side of concessions. You could tell he was tired and not in the best of health. The walk from the parking lot had worn him out. His thinning hair was all askew, and the sweater he wore didn't seem to provide sufficient heat to keep him warm.

There were no other customers so I kept watching these two. The daughter waited her turn in the concession line and when it was her turn, she turned to her father and asked if he'd like to have a bag of Twizzlers. He thought for a long time. It must have once been a favorite of his, and his daughter remembered and thought it would be something he'd enjoy. Finally, the old man shook his head. Perhaps he'd lost his taste for Twizzlers, or perhaps his dentures wouldn't chew them well, or perhaps he'd lost his sense of taste along with his vitality. He looked sad, and a little scared.

Scared because he was being forced to confront his age and the limits it put on his body. His mind may have been 35 years old, but his body don't always follow his mind's instructions. I think the fear was for the future - when he was unable to even get out to a movie, and perhaps he was afraid of what lies on the other side of this life.

His daughter obviously wanted to spend whatever time she has left with her dad. She thought it would be a good idea to bring him to a movie and get him out of the house. She too was probably afraid - afraid of what her life would be like when her dad was gone.

It was fitting that they were there to see The Bucket List. My favorite line in the movie goes something like this: "When he died, his eyes were closed, but his heart was open."

I don't always look at theater customers as pigs, though many (most) are. Once in awhile someone will touch you in an unexpected way. I hope that this dad and daughter are able to spend a lot more time together. It's something I'll be looking at in another 15 years, and I know my youngest daughter will be there for her dad.

Hopefully I won't still be tearing tickets or cleaning the theater behind pigs, or greeting customers at Wal-Mart. There's more important things in life than work and movies.