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10 Ways to Get Sacked From a Dead-End Cinema Job
Having worked years ago in a dead-end cinema job on 12-hour night shifts (and usually longer), I often found myself contemplating how to terminate my employment. These are just ten of the wacky methods I came up with.
1. Pretend to be an area manager by putting a wastepaper basket on your head and yelling “Hee-haw! Hee-haw!” whilst blindly stumbling around in a useless attempt to locate the reception area.
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2. Run off 500 bum-prints on the photocopier and send them to head office via same-day-dispatch marked “Urgent!”.
3. Grab two ice-cream cones from the concession stand and stick them on either side of your head, then pretend to be a mad bull and head-butt the manager in the rear.
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4. Ring all the local funeral parlours on the cinemas behalf at 3am in the morning just to see if they really do operate a 24-hour service.
5. Kill an annoying customer and use their remains to top up your supplies of hot-dog and burger meat on the concession stand.
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6. Put out an emergency radio call for all the cinema security staff to go to the locker rooms pronto and when they arrive inform them that someone has broken into your locker and stolen five pence.
7. Write “I Quit” on a piece of A4 paper with your signature on it and stick it to the regional managers forehead……with a bowie knife!
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8. Act as a translator when important foreign visitors come and tell them the managers’ friendly greeting translates as “You’re a tribe of incontinent old farts with faces like camels backsides”. As they return with a suitably heated reply, translate this to the manager as their way of saying “You’re the son of a motherless dog with innumerable sexual deseases”. Having done this, stand back and enjoy watching the fireworks as both sides fight it out.
9. Ring up the cinema from an outside payphone and ask searching questions about the security set-up in a deep, foreign accent.
10. Turn up for work totally legless after drinking around fifteen or twenty pints of ale, stagger into the Head of Personnel’s office, urinate in the stationary cupboard, be violently sick all over the paperwork in the “out” tray and collapse in an unconcious heap on top of any member of staff (preferably the Head of Personnel’s rather buxom blonde secretary) who just happen to be there at the time.
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